Chapter 13
S even guards are stationed at the oak door. Each one different from the guards I saw the day I first got here. Jumpier. Their eyes occasionally dart to Dae before flicking back down. I circle the party. All I need to do is slip out. That’s what I tell myself—with the guards watching every crevice of the party, it’s always been hard. But with Dae’s eyes following me, it’s grown to a new level of impossible.
The smell of baked pumpkins, honey-glazed pears, and roasted parsnips fills the air. And the fruit. The sweet, sickly, decaying smell of fruit permeates. Dae is right. It is demonic.
“Want to dance?” Obi reaches out a hand, drunkenly swaying from side to side.
I frown. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” he smiles.
“You might catch the wrong attention.” My eyes flick to where Dae sits.
Obi shrugs. “Maybe I know exactly what I’m doing. Maybe I’ve got a grand master plan.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Maybe you’ve got a death wish.”
He laughs. It’s a low, deep laugh. A rumble. “Maybe.”
I put my hand in his, and he twirls me. He twirls me until I’m just the song. Until I cease to exist. Until it’s just me and Obi, and we’re dancing among the stars. My feet start to hurt, and tears prick my eyes, but it’s impossible to stop. Besides, why would I want to? It’s such a lovely dance.
The room spins around me. Too fast. I throw up, but I still don’t stop. I laugh and laugh. And Obi laughs. A scream, kicking legs are dragged up the marble staircase. Obi presses his lips to mine, and butterflies flutter about inside my stomach. He pulls away, and a smile tears across Obi’s lips as tears shine in his eyes, his pupils begging for release.
Demonic. That’s exactly what this court is.
I trip and somehow that lets me out of the dance.
I search for Dae, but he’s nowhere to be seen. I leave Obi, crossing the room, looking everywhere for Dae. Just as I’m about to go looking for him upstairs, he strolls down the steps. His eyes are trained on Obi. He stops. He turns back, walking up the stairs again. Then he stops again. His fingers twitch. His hands stretch out before curling into fists. He takes a slow, considered step forward.
Shiva’s standing next to me. “What’s wrong with him?” I ask her.
Shiva shrugs, stuffing another parsnip in her mouth. He takes one last glance at Obi before his face straightens, and he skips down the stairs. From the corner of my eye, I catch the butterfly-winged Jinn he spent half the night with flirting shove her way through the crowd with wide eyes. But she’s on the other end of the room from Dae, and the crowd is thick.
She catches me staring, and I quickly avert my gaze. I steal a glance back, and she’s looking right at me. She points at Dae and gives me a look that tells me to do something. Dae continues walking purposefully towards Obi. When he reaches him, he grabs him by the arm and drags him out of the dance. Obi stumbles, almost collapsing to the floor. He rubs his legs and then stands tall, glaring at Dae.
Dae’s presence is a black cloud on the horizon, there’s no telling which direction the cloud will go in, but it’s sure to bring thunder and lightning with it.
The sky darkens. The Fae begin laughing that much louder. The humans become that much jumpier. Shiva creeps away from me, and I catch her edging closer to Abnehor until she’s in his shadow. Abnehor grows a few inches to cover her, moving closer to a wall, which shields her back while he protects her front.
Goosebumps rise on my neck.
I edge my way closer to Dae and Obi. Stormy, grey eyes catch mine, stabbing into me like icicles. Dae’s frozen face surveys me, fingers restlessly tapping the sides of his legs as he watches.
My stomach knots. We’re on the precipice of something. On the edge of a cliff about to be pushed over.
A decision is made, and Dae’s eyes leave me. He meets Obi’s glare. “Right,” Dae sneers, “you wanted a fight, you’ve got one.”
“What?” Obi takes a step back.
Dae follows him. “You wanted a fight. Here it is.”
Obi shakes his head. He’s not glaring anymore. He’s afraid. “No fight between us is fair.” He must know Dae very well—it’s exactly what I’d say if I wanted to get out of a fight with him. “You’ve got magic. And if I beat you, which is impossible, these vultures will pick at my remains.”
Dae sneers. “I won’t use magic.” He turns to the crowd. “No one is to touch him. Even if he kills me.” His eyes reach mine. They’re cold and vicious. He scoffs at me and then returns to Obi. “There. Happy?”
“No,” the butterfly Jinn’s voice calls across the courtyard. She’s ignored.
A slow grin crosses Obi’s lips. He presses a finger to his lip, as though he’s thinking about it, before swinging a fist straight at Dae’s face. Dae ducks with a measured shift, his foot thrust out in front of Obi’s ankles. Obi falls to the ground, his face slamming into the floor as he winces.
I dart forward, my heart ready to explode.
Obi twists up, kicking Dae in the stomach. Dae flinches, doubling over as Obi grabs him by the head and pulls him down, smashing his face into the floor. Dae cries out, his jaw clenched. He rolls out of the way of a punch. Obi’s fist slams into the ground, and he shakes it.
Obi’s eyes widen as Dae leaps on top of him and starts pummelling. Thud. Thud. Thud. Flesh rips beneath Dae’s fists, a low growl escaping his lips. Obi can’t seem to catch a thought fast enough. Dae just keeps smashing his fist into his face. Shit.
Abnehor’s mad laughter sounds from somewhere in the crowd, barely drowning out Shiva’s screams. Her desperate pleas for him to do something. Anything. Please, Abnehor, please, anything . But Abnehor’s mercy doesn’t extend beyond her, and who is he to stop a King?
Dae’s playful glee is gone, replaced with cold determination.
He’s going to kill Obi. And no one is going to stop him.
I shove against the crowd, ramming my fists and elbows into anything that stands in my way. Thud. Thud. Thud . Long, lavender-adorned fingers wrap tight around Obi’s throat. I dig my nails into a Faerie’s neck, clawing her aside. Muscular arms flail at Dae, ripping through the air, never reaching their target. Dae tightens his hold. A gasp. A whimper. Obi sucks in his last breath, his body bucking.
I ram the last jeering Faerie out of the way. I leap on Dae, grasping at his hands. It’s useless. Obi’s face bulges, the veins in his neck sticking out harshly as he struggles desperately against Dae’s grip. He’s losing steam. I pummel Dae with my fists. He doesn’t even flinch. Just grips harder, complete and utter determination on his face. A fFaerie grabs me from behind and drags me off. I scream frantically. My voice is a whisper over the frenzied throng.
I kick the Faerie in the shins, freeing myself from his tight grip, and throw myself to the ground beside Obi. My tear-filled eyes blaze up at Dae as I clasp my hands before me in a prayer.
“Please, please, I am begging you, please stop.” I consider talking to his human side, but he doesn’t have one. “I’ll do anything, I’ll give you anything.” The second I say it, I realise what Dae can bargain for.
Dae’s eyes dart to mine, bent over and huddled before him. He loosens his grip. A gasp escapes Obi. I let out a long breath, tears coming faster now as Obi sucks in more breaths. Everyone stills, waiting for the Faerie King’s decision. Obi’s breaths echo across the silent room as the colour returns to his skin. Dae’s eyes lose their crazed silver hue, turning back to a cold grey.
“Give me your life,” Dae says in a cold voice. This isn’t the boy I grew up with.
Fucking shit. My mother’s life for Obi’s. “Don’t do this. Please,” I beg.
For a while, Dae doesn’t move. Then, he cocks his head. Still straddling Obi, he watches me closely, devouring every inch of my face as he bends down and whispers something in Obi’s ear. My ears strain, but I catch nothing. He sits back up and waits, his gaze intent and focused.
Obi nods once.
Dae jumps up and turns his back to us, stepping out into the crowd, his knuckles a gory mess. Everyone disperses. Everyone except me and Obi.
“I hate him,” Obi mutters, his voice raw.
I press my hands into my face. “What did he say?”
Obi coughs, his battered face wincing with the movement. “He said, ‘Don’t touch what’s mine.’”