Dance of Nothing (Court of Midsummer Mayhem #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Benedict’s legs sprawled out before him in the dirt as he leaned his back against the wall of his cell. He remained perfectly still to avoid rattling the shackles on his wrists and ankles as he watched the rat slowly peeking its head through the hole beneath the door.

A real rat? Or another illusion? There was no way of knowing in this place. Even if the rat ran up to him and bit him, that too could be an illusion gripping his mind and making him think he was in pain.

As a member of a fae court—the son of a high-ranking noble, no less—Benedict had experienced a few glamours and illusions in his day. His mother had a glamour necklace that smoothed away her wrinkles while his father hid his gray hair.

Yet Benedict had never experienced illusions to this level. The usual, relatively harmless glamours only fooled the eyes. They didn’t mess with the mind. They didn’t fool one into feeling pain or hunger or cold.

But he wasn’t in the Fae Realm that was bound by the Laws of Bindings. No, this place existed somewhere in the Realm of Monsters, or so he’d guessed. A pocket of it that was somehow cut off from everyone and everything, making even the laws that bound the fae twist and turn in unexpected ways.

How would he know if something was real ever again? He’d been lost in the illusions for the months he’d been locked here in Claudius’s secret prison. How long that was, he didn’t know. Was even the passing of time an illusion at this point?

The rat froze, then ducked out of the hole, disappearing from view on the other side of the door. The reason for the rat’s disappearance became apparent a moment later when the locking bar rattled, and the door swung open.

One of the looming guards stood there, his chain mail armor clinking. He unlocked Benedict’s shackles before he hauled him to his feet.

Benedict didn’t resist. There was no point. The guards were brutes—banished fae who thrived in the harsh environment of the Realm of Monsters—and recruited by the fae lord Claudius to serve in his growing army.

As Benedict was hauled past the other cells, he caught glimpses through the tiny barred windows of the figures slumped inside.

Some he didn’t recognize. But others were fae librarians or other members of Benedict’s court who had been captured during the past year that the Court of Knowledge and the Court of Revels had been at war.

After being hauled down the twisting passageway of the dungeon, Benedict was finally dragged through an outer door that, even when opened, showed nothing but an inky black swirl.

For a breathless heartbeat as he was yanked through, pain clawed his skin into his bones, and if he’d had the time, he would have screamed.

Then he was staggering out the other side into a small, stone-lined cellar without any furniture or decorations on the walls. Besides the rift-door behind him, the only other thing of note was the wooden door directly across the room.

That, and the fae lord standing in the center of the room, a cluster of other fae standing just behind him. He had brown hair, a short brown beard, and piercing green eyes. When he smiled, he appeared jovial, almost charming.

It was enough to fool the na?ve, if one didn’t know that the smile hid his cruelty. Claudius would smile just like that while enacting some horrible torture on his victim. Benedict knew that from personal experience.

As Benedict took in the presence of the other fae with Claudius, he couldn’t hide his start of surprise, much as he wished he had.

There stood Master Librarian Domitius, Master Librarian Demetrius, a swordmaiden Benedict vaguely recognized as one who commonly guarded the doors to the Great Library, and a goblin man with donkey ears.

Benedict glanced the way he’d come, then back at the four fae with Claudius. Hadn’t he just seen all four of those people locked in the dungeon? How had they gotten here?

Another glamour. This one was likely of the more common variety, but it still couldn’t be good for the Court of Knowledge.

Claudius’s amiable smile widened. “I see you’ve noticed my latest plan. You are unaware that the Court of Knowledge and Court of Revels have signed an uneasy truce that has ended the fighting.”

Benedict couldn’t help another twitch. The war was over. After a year of fighting between the courts, perhaps they could go back to peace.

Unless this was all a trick? All Claudius had done for the past few months was mess with Benedict’s mind. There was every chance this was another lie.

“Due to the truce, the courts have agreed to exchange any prisoners still held by each side.” Claudius’s sneer curved in the framing of his neatly trimmed beard.

“I couldn’t let such an opportunity go to waste, of course.

Even King Oberon doesn’t know about this plan.

Only my contact in the Court of Knowledge knows, and that contact specifically requested that you be returned rather than one of my substitutes. ”

Benedict’s stomach sank as he took in the four fae wearing glamours. With two master librarians, a swordmaiden, and one of the lowly lackeys of the court, Claudius could wreak havoc in the Court of Knowledge. Especially since he apparently had a spy in the court.

“Why are you telling me this?” Benedict did his best to meet Claudius’s gaze squarely. Surely Claudius realized that Benedict would promptly report all of this to his king.

“I decided to leave you with one more torture.” Claudius stepped forward.

As he was several inches taller than Benedict, he loomed over him where he was pinned between the guards.

“Before you leave, you will vow a geas that you will not tell anyone about this prison. You will not communicate anything you saw or heard while here. Not in writing, by words, gestures, or by ensuring someone accidentally overhears. You will also vow that you won’t interfere with these fae.

That is my torture. You will know my plan, but you will be unable to do anything to stop it.

You will slowly spiral in an agony of silence while you watch your court fall. ”

A geas was an unbreakable, magical vow that would irrevocably bind him if he made it. If one did manage to violate the geas, it usually led to one’s utter destruction.

“And if I refuse?” Benedict’s heart pounded. There was no way he’d make that vow and risk his court.

Before this war and his imprisonment, he’d been rather indifferent to his court and his king. But his experiences in the war and especially in this dungeon had a way of changing him.

“Then I will simply have you thrown back into the dungeon and explain why to my contact.” Claudius shrugged. “It would be better to have this contact’s willing cooperation, but I can ensure it by another method.”

Benedict shifted in the grip of the guards.

If he was returned to the prison, he’d have no chance whatsoever to warn King Theseus.

But if he made the geas, there was a chance—slim as it was—that he could find a way around it.

One couldn’t break or violate a geas, but this was the Fae Realm.

Tricky wording allowed one to wiggle out of most bindings.

Would Claudius allow him to leave if he left himself a glaring loophole? He’d have to put it right in the vow he made out loud.

Although, Claudius was fae. Fae loved loopholes, wordsmithing, and bargains, even when giving such things risked that they could lose.

But it was the thrill of the risk that they craved. And Claudius was no exception. If anything, he craved it more than most. The tricky ones always did.

“I vow a solemn geas that I will do as you say.” Benedict kept his gaze fixed on Claudius as he added in a rush, “Except to tell everything to the person I apparently blame for my imprisonment.”

One of the guards slammed his fist into Benedict’s stomach. His breath whooshed out as his knees buckled. Pain flared through his gut, then his knees when they slammed onto the stone floor.

But the guard had been too late. Benedict had gotten the words out, and he could feel the way the geas settled on him as a weight, first on his back, then on his soul.

Claudius stroked his beard, staring down at Benedict. “An interesting addition. I would have said that I’m the one you blame for your imprisonment, but it would do you no good to leave me as your loophole. Do you blame your king? Or someone else?”

Benedict gasped for breath where he knelt. Would Claudius let him go? Or had he just thrown his one chance at freedom away?

“Or…” Claudius leaned closer, his voice lowering. “Do you blame the Wild Fae Primrose? He is the reason for the war, after all.”

Benedict clenched his jaw.

Something in his eyes must have given him away because Claudius chuckled and straightened.

“In that case, you will merely lead my spy straight to the Primrose, and I will finally have that pesky fae hero in my grasp. Very well. I’ll let you go.

Just know that my spy will be watching your every move. ”

Benedict finally dropped his gaze, hanging his head as if in defeat.

Hopefully that loophole would be enough.

In the dappling shade of the thick foliage overhead, Benedict stood with the four false fae prisoners at the edge of a clearing in the Tanglewood, the magical forest that created the border between the Court of Knowledge and the Court of Revels.

A handful of other prisoners had joined them, likely ones held by King Oberon instead of by Claudius.

King Oberon and several fae from the Court of Revels stood around them, ostensibly the ones running this prisoner exchange. While Claudius hadn’t come, several of his fae had done so in the guise of members of the Court of Revels.

On the other side of the clearing, King Theseus, Queen Hippolyta, and several of her swordmaidens guarded a cluster of prisoners from the Court of Revels.

King Theseus wore his black librarian-style coat, which paired well with his black hair and blue eyes.

Queen Hippolyta’s white dress lay beneath a layer of chain mail, her sword belted at her hip.

“King Oberon, let’s not prolong this or stand on ceremony,” King Theseus called across the clearing. “I will start my prisoners walking toward you if you send your prisoners toward me.”

“Very well.” King Oberon puffed out his already exaggeratedly muscular chest. He made a grandiose flourish of his hand, and the guards shoved Benedict and the other prisoners forward.

Benedict walked at a slow pace, searching the prisoners headed toward him. He needed to find one prisoner in particular. His whole plan depended on it.

There. Benedict tried to subtly swerve in the fae’s direction until—right when they reached the center of the clearing—he stepped in the fae’s path. “Lord Chauvlyn.”

The black-haired, hard-eyed fae glared down his nose at him. “Yes?”

“Rumor has it that you are one of the few people who know who the Wild Fae Primrose is.” Benedict spoke as quickly as he could. He wasn’t sure how long he could get away with speaking with the lord from the Court of Revels before someone noticed. “I need to know who he is.”

“Why would I tell you?” Lord Chauvlyn raised one eyebrow. “I have not even told my own king.”

A puzzle that many in the Court of Knowledge had wondered about. It seemed the knowledge of the Wild Fae Primrose’s identity was a bargaining chip that Lord Chauvlyn wasn’t going to give up easily, even to his own king.

And yet Benedict needed to convince him in the next few seconds to do just that. “The current truce depends on it. Perhaps even the fate of the Fae Realm itself. Please. I will owe you a favor.”

Lord Chauvlyn’s eyes glinted at that. After all, owing another fae a favor was a dangerous thing, especially one that he offered without any conditions.

“Very well. All I will tell you is this: You will never find the Wild Fae Primrose unless you set aside your misconceptions of who a hero must be.”

That…wasn’t helpful. At all. Certainly not worth owing Lord Chauvlyn an unrestricted favor.

Lord Chauvlyn made to step around him, but Benedict blocked his way again, daring to grab his arm. “Please. I need more than that. You don’t understand—”

His throat closed around the rest of the words. He couldn’t say anything else because of his geas. He couldn’t even say Claudius’s name.

Something almost bleak entered Lord Chauvlyn’s dark eyes. “Perhaps I understand more than you know.” The fae lord’s gaze drifted past Benedict to where King Oberon stood. “My reception by my own court will not be as pleasant as my imprisonment by my enemies.”

With that, the fae lord successfully stepped around Benedict and continued on his way toward the Court of Revels.

Grimacing, Benedict strode in the other direction. Toward the court that didn’t know it was already in danger.