7. Nocturne, Part III The Manipulation
“ W e need to get you in front of him.” Rodney refreshed their goblets. After only one, Aisling could feel heat flooding her veins and warming her cheeks. She wondered idly what color she’d blush under her verdant skin.
Rodney was born for this: the sport, the maneuvering. He was the master in this bout of chess, and he could hardly wait to get the game started. The only way he could have been more excited was if he were on the board himself, rather than instructing Aisling’s movements.
“I don’t know, this whole thing just feels so…manipulative.” Now having seen the king in the flesh, Aisling was losing her nerve. He looked every bit as cruel as he’d been described. Strikingly beautiful, she’d admit, but frightening .
“Well, that’s because it is. It has to be. How else are you going to get what you need? Certainly not by asking nicely. And anyway, I gave you three weeks to come up with an alternative plan,” he reminded her.
He had, and she hadn’t. “I know.”
“It could be worse.” He shrugged, picking at a large purple plum he’d chosen from the table. “He could look like that.” Rodney nodded towards a group of squat, fanged faeries with skin the texture of stone and black tufts of hair down the ridges of their spines. “You’re not going to make a move until the party dies down, so relax. We just need to get him to notice you first.”
“How are we going to do that?” Amongst the crowd, her tiny form would hardly stand out.
He grinned, then beckoned over a satyr who had been leering at Aisling since the king finished his speech. “You’re going to dance.”
“No,” she pled, eyes wide, when the male took her hand and began to pull. “Rodney, no!” But her words were lost in the noise and the last thing she saw of Rodney was the flash of an encouraging smile before she was spun into the satyr’s broad, hairy chest.
He had to lean down to hold her around the waist and his other hand fully enveloped her own. He smelled of all the darkest parts of the forest: the rot, the decay, the mold. She grimaced as he crushed her body against his. But despite his size, he was an agile dancer. On cloven hooves he led Aisling through spin after dizzying spin. As she continued to dance, her nerves slowly gave way to exhilaration. The other dancers blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes, and she lost herself in the frenzied pace .
Rodney stepped in before the satyr could drop his hand any lower down her back and shooed him off to find a new partner.
“Let me lead you, I’m going to take you closer to the throne,” he all but shouted into her ear. He maneuvered them through the crowd deliberately, pausing here and there for several beats to hide their movement in the intricate steps of the dance.
Then, they were front and center to the throne. Aisling kept her eyes on Rodney, on the whirling gowns and wings and braids that brushed against her as they turned, but never let them stray in the king’s direction. One song bled into the next and the rhythm rose and dipped like waves crashing on the shoreline. She was giddy and lightheaded and could hardly feel her feet or determine where she ended and the other Fae around her began.
Rodney spun her once more before pulling her firmly out of the throng, back to their quiet corner. She’d been reluctant to abandon the dance, but once she’d stopped, she realized that she could scarcely breathe. Her feet ached and her lungs burned. She would have stayed in there all night if he’d let her.
“Did you feel it?” Rodney asked of the magic that had washed over them with the notes of the music. Aisling nodded—she had. She’d felt so light, she was almost sure she’d been floating.
“I thought the tea was meant to protect me,” she said. He handed her a fresh goblet of honey wine and she drank it down thirstily.
“From enchantments. Music, dancing…that’s a different magic entirely. It works its way into you until you’d sooner die than stop.”
Aisling shivered slightly. Suddenly, she could hear strains of sinister notes underlying the lively tune.
Rodney maintained that they should wait, and so they did, biding their time while the celebration slowly waned. It could have been hours later, or mere minutes, but when the first revelers began to depart, the rest followed. The satyr passed by once in a bid to convince Aisling to leave with him, but the pair managed to avoid further interactions. She could tell that Rodney would have rather been in the center of it all, satiating his Fae proclivities for one night before returning to the human realm, but he refused to leave her side despite her urging.
Those that remained swayed slowly or sat propped against the pillars and walls, halfway to passing out. Certainly by now, no one left was sober enough to pay a pixie any mind.
Aisling grabbed an empty goblet and a bottle off of the banquet table as she passed, pausing briefly to take several long swallows to steady herself. The comfortable drunk she’d been nursing all night had begun to wear off, but the wine quickly brought back a warm buzz as she approached the dais. The role she was playing tonight demanded a level of confidence that she didn’t possess on the other side of the Veil. But here in the Wild, she wasn’t herself anymore—not really. This Aisling was cool and bold and sure. Ready to act, rather than plan. So she let that wine draw her further into character.
The Unseelie King sat reclined on his dark throne, sharp chin in one hand while his other played over the carved designs of an obsidian arm. He didn’t notice her stopping to stand in front of him until she spoke.
“Would Your Highness grant an audience to a humble pixie?” Aisling curtsied deep to the floor, glancing up coyly through her long lashes. She had to concentrate to keep the tremor out of her voice and her limbs as she moved. He slid piercing silver eyes over her before nodding almost imperceptibly. She stepped up onto the platform.
“How can you seem so dissatisfied with such a glorious court?” Aisling turned to take in his view. It would have been enthralling earlier, at the height of the revelry. It was hardly the same now, but still no less impressive. Aisling watched a few waif-like females drifting around a group of very drunk hobs. The king didn’t so much as look at them but kept his eyes on Aisling warily.
“What is it that you want?” He rubbed a hand over his face. His diction was intriguing, with the barest hint of a strange accent that Aisling couldn’t quite place. Feeling emboldened by the fact that he hadn’t ordered her away yet, she sashayed around the back of his throne and leaned around its right side.
“To serve you a drink, My Lord. Honey wine?” She poured the amber liquid into the goblet she’d brought and circled back to the front of the throne to offer it to him. She took a sip from the bottle as she waited with it outstretched.
“You are not supposed to be up here.”
“No one has stopped me so far.” Aisling raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at the cup in her hand until Kael sighed heavily and took it. She smiled, satisfied, and took another drink. When she was sure Kael was distracted, she looked for Rodney where he lurked in the shadow of a pillar. He gestured to her to hurry up.
When the king had finished his wine, Aisling shot a hand out and wrapped her long fingers around his wrist. He looked up at her, startled, but his pulse remained steady under his skin. She winked and refilled his goblet. She let go once the liquid reached the brim and sat on the ground beside his throne. After she’d finished the bottle, she tossed it off the dais. Kael watched it roll in a circle on the dusty floor.
“You look bored,” she observed.
“Do I?” he said absently into his cup before draining it.
Aisling’s heart was beginning to race with the knowledge of what would come next. “We’re out of alcohol.”
“I believe you’ve had enough.” Kael set his goblet at his feet and leaned back once again.
“I believe you haven’t,” Aisling countered. Kael glanced back at several empty bottles scattered behind him. Aisling stood, aware suddenly of the slight heaviness of her eyelids. Everything seemed a little softer now. A little hazier. She put her hands on the arm of his throne and moved close.
“Come and play,” she said, voice low.
“Excuse me?”
“They won’t miss you for an hour or two.” Aisling nodded towards two of the king’s knights, both flirting with winged females with ruby skin. “Come on.”
Kael maintained an expressionless gaze, eyes straight ahead. This had to work—she had to make it work.
In one final bid to convince him, she leaned in close, her lips almost, almost touching the very tip of his pointed ear. “Have you ever kissed a pixie?” she whispered .
That got his attention. The intensity of his glare faltered just slightly, and before he could object further Aisling had slipped her hand into his and pulled him to stand. He stopped her before she could lead him off the front of the dais, though, and nodded wordlessly towards a door in the wall behind the throne.
Aisling’s blood rushed loudly in her ears as he guided her away from the drunken laughter echoing through the cavern with their fingers intertwined. He led her down a torchlit hallway, far from prying eyes, but stopped midway. The air was thick with anticipation and an electric energy thrummed between them when he turned to face her. Aisling took a step closer, then another, until Kael’s back was pressed against the cave wall and there was only an inch of space between their bodies. He was already leaning down, maybe unconsciously. This was coming easier to her than she thought.
Raising herself onto her toes, she tipped her chin to bring her lips close to his. Kael’s breath hitched, and she could feel the tension building in him.
“This is a dangerous game you’re playing, little pixie,” he murmured, his voice low and husky.
Aisling’s fingers lightly brushed against the sharp angles of his face, tracing a path down his jawline. “Isn’t all of life a game, Highness? Tonight, I thought I might like to play it with you.” Her taunting words dared him to take the bait. She’d surprised even herself with her irreverence, but it seemed to be working just as intended.
Kael’s restraint wavered and he leaned closer, drawn in by her challenge. His fingers lightly grazed her wings. She couldn’t feel them there, but the gesture sent shivers down her spine all the same. Just a breath apart now, he hesitated for a beat. Then another. Then took Aisling’s hand again and resumed pulling her down the hallway. She let him.
He led her to the doorway of a chamber, pitch black inside, and Aisling’s stomach dropped. The uncertainty of what awaited her past the threshold set alarm bells off in her brain, muted by the wine but still loud enough to bring her pause. He knows, she thought. He’d found her out and she’d followed him willingly to her death. Already inside, Kael looked back at her with a smirk playing across his lips, at once both threatening and alluring.
“Are you afraid of the dark?” Now it was his turn to tease.
Aisling set her jaw and met his pale eyes. She wouldn’t let him win. “Only when there’s something in it to be afraid of.”
He seemed satisfied by her answer enough to let her linger in the doorway while he lit a tall, tapered candle and set the silver candlestick on the nightstand. Though the flame did little to illuminate the space, Aisling could make out a simple bed against the far wall. The chamber was small, almost certainly not Kael’s, but rather one he saved for occasions such as this, with females such as herself. He turned to retrieve her, letting his hands slide down her waist to rest on her slender hips.
“Better?” Kael asked. His smirk seemed softer now that she knew there was no malice hidden behind it.
“Almost.” Aisling stepped inside and closed the heavy wooden door. Then, she reached up to ease the black silken robe from Kael’s shoulders. He watched her, studied her, as it slid to the floor and puddled at their feet.
“And now?”
“Getting closer.” She took his hand in hers and raised it to her shoulder, guiding it to slip off one of the delicate cap sleeves of her dress. The intensity of his gaze was all over her skin, pins and needles that followed the path of his eyes and left her breathless. Kael’s breath, too, caught slightly when his fingers brushed over her.
Aisling slid a hand up around the back of Kael’s neck, settling it at his nape beneath his hair, and guided him towards her. He was so much taller than she was in this form, though she thought that even without the glamour the top of her head would only just reach his chin. He let her lead, giving in fully to her direction.
When Kael lightly touched his lips to her pulse, just below her jaw, Aisling’s fingers threaded through his hair and she pressed into him. He trailed kisses up, hesitating at the corner of her mouth. He was waiting for her, she realized. To take the lead, to take control, as she had from the beginning. He’d played straight into her trap. Aisling tilted her head and when their lips finally met, the whole chamber was set ablaze.
Kael fell backwards onto the bed, pulling her down on top of him, and the groan he loosed involuntarily raised goosebumps down Aisling’s arms. His kisses were raw and wanting and the taste of him was more intoxicating than all the honey wine in the world. His tongue moved against hers with urgent purpose, exploring the contours of her mouth, stoking the fire that had taken the place of every drop of blood in Aisling’ s veins.
Kael’s hands explored her back, bare now after having undone the thin tie that held the fabric around her body, and traced the curve of her spine between her wings. His lips only broke contact with hers once, when a quiet hiss escaped them as her hand brushed over his ear and jostled the earring that dangled from his lobe.
Aisling paused, drawing back to look at him. “Did that hurt?”
“It’s nothing.” He lifted his head to kiss her neck again but she pushed herself up on his chest.
“Here, let me see.” Aisling turned Kael’s face to the side and removed the earring back.
“It will close,” he protested.
Aisling hushed him and swiftly, gently, pulled the earring from his ear. “There.” He gripped her waist when she leaned over and set it on the nightstand before pulling her back down into his embrace.
Each needy touch that followed fanned the flames burning in them both. When he worked his way back up to tangle his fingers in Aisling’s hair, gently pulling at the roots, she ground her hips down against his. She felt his hardness there and knew that he’d soon be angling for more, so she backed off. Rodney’s words remained clear in her spinning mind: Leave him wanting more.
So Aisling sat up. “I believe the game is over for tonight,” she teased, out of breath. “I hope you enjoyed the kiss, Highness.”
Kael caressed her thighs braced on either side of his hips. Disappointment was obvious on his face, but it was laced with something else, too. Intrigue, she hoped. “What may I call you, pixie?”
She remembered Rodney’s warning—one that she’d heard from her mother many times, too—and demurred. If Aisling were truly a pixie, she wouldn’t give it so easily. “You can have my name if I decide to see you again.”
“It will be your decision alone, then?” His long fingers played across her skin.
She nodded once and echoed his words: “Mine alone.”
Aisling pressed one last, chaste kiss to the king’s lips then rose off of him. He didn’t follow her when she left the chamber, nor did he emerge as she retraced her steps down the hallway. With trembling hands, she tied her dress before reentering the throne room. Save for several faeries passed out splayed on the ground, it was empty.
She’d done it—and she could scarcely believe just how easy it had been. She thought he’d put up a fight, at least, before accompanying a stranger unguarded into a back room. It spoke volumes of his impulsivity, or maybe confidence in his own abilities to defend himself. Aisling shuddered slightly at the thought of what he could have done to her with his strong, lithe warrior’s body and fast hands. More than likely, it was she who’d been at risk all along.
As she made her way shakily on tip-toe through the passages, Aisling recalled the tale of the Princess and the Goblin, and how the young girl in the story had been gifted an enchanted thread to guide her back to safety. Aisling wished that she had some such thread now that would lead her out of the winding halls of the Unseelie Court. Though she thought she remembered the way, she made several wrong turns into dead ends before she reached the spiral staircase.
Rodney jumped to his feet from where he’d been resting half-asleep against the trunk of a tree when he heard Aisling’s footsteps approaching through the brush. Her hair was wild and she didn’t need to see herself to know that her lips were flushed and kiss-swollen.
“What happened?” he demanded. Before answering, Aisling turned and gestured for him to retie the dress that she was holding up with one arm across her chest. She hadn’t managed to get it tight enough to stay up on its own. Rodney did so quickly then spun her back to face him. “So?”
“So,” Aisling said. “I think we should get home.”
He shook her lightly by her shoulders. “Aisling, tell me.”
“It was a good plan, Rodney.” That was all she wanted to give him for now. Her head was still spinning, her body was still quaking, and her heart hadn’t ceased its relentless pounding since the moment she’d locked eyes with the Unseelie King.
Rodney’s eyes narrowed. “You enjoyed it,” he accused.
She ignored his judgmental look and said simply, “You were right—it could have been worse.”