Chapter 12 Rhianelle
War is coming.
I need to get this information home. But every time I approach a door, it seems to shift. The corridors loop back on themselves and the passages lead nowhere. I'm led to the endless sea of revelry in the ballroom once again.
Heavens above.
The fae magic is designed to keep guests here, trapped in eternal celebration.
At the room's heart, they're playing the Hunt Game.
It's practice for the real Wild Hunt. The prey wear bells that sing their location.
When someone is caught, they're dragged to a crystal cage where they must sing and dance… or strip. Whatever the crowd demands.
"Care to play?"
A black-feathered winged fae offers me his hand. I shake my head and he doesn't insist.
That's a relief.
Some of the guests are more persistent, trying to drag me into their games. I decline with a polite smile and slip away.
I try the eastern passage but my attempt is thwarted once again. I'm back in the ballroom with the other revelers. Frustration builds in my chest, but I keep my expression neutral. I can't afford to look distressed and draw attention.
I'm searching for yet another way out when the music changes. The crowd responds immediately and everyone begins pairing off.
Dear gods and Un, please help me.
I'm standing in the middle of the dance floor without a partner.
"May I?"
The voice comes from behind, cultured and smooth. I turn to find a masked fae extending his hand. Raven-black hair frames his face. His silver mask covers everything but his mouth and jaw.
Refusing would draw attention. I take his hand. A strange sensation goes through me the moment we touch. His eyes widen slightly behind the mask. He felt it too.
Dread washes over me as he pulls me closer.
I know this man.
He's the Shadow Fae. Landon. One of Eirik's Masters of the Hunt.
Oh gods… I'm about to dance with one of the fae king's most dangerous warriors.
My blood runs cold. I was in his house. I walked his halls and threw his stupid painting out the window. Now I'm in his arms. If he pieces together who I am, I won't make it out of this ballroom.
But Landon doesn't seem to know. My enchanted mask works too perfectly.
Landon's hand steadies at my waist while his other hand holds mine firmly. He begins leading me through the dance's opening steps. I have no choice but to follow. The music swells and we move with it.
My first steps are guarded. Every movement feels like a risk. But then the music pulses and takes over. Landon's movements are so practiced that my body begins to trust his lead. A thrill runs through me and I stop fighting it.
I'm just dancing.
He guides me through spins and dips like we've rehearsed for years. This is actually fun. Swaying just for the pure joy of it. It's been so long since I danced like this. I let myself move, feeling the music in my bones.
Landon keeps his eyes locked on mine the entire time. He's magnificent at this. I let myself sink into the rhythm just for a moment.
But I overdo it. I forget that my body has limits.
My bad leg wobbles during a particularly demanding turn and I stumble slightly. Landon adjusts immediately. He seamlessly changes our pattern to something less strenuous. When the music calls for another spin that would strain me, he substitutes it with a gentle sway that looks intentional.
The transition is so smooth that anyone watching would think it was meant to flow this way. But I know better. He felt me falter and compensated instantly without embarrassing me.
"You're a natural," he murmurs as he dips me.
"Thank you." My voice comes out breathless.
When I straighten, I catch sight of the other dancers around us. They're all stunning, with flawless skin and elegant movements. Every single one of them looks like they stepped out of a dream.
"Beautiful," I murmur to myself.
Landon scoffs. "Beautiful?"
I'm caught off guard by the edge in his voice.
"That's probably not how they really look," he says, his gaze sweeping across the ballroom. "Masks on top of masks."
I blink, surprised. "It's all glamour?"
He nods and lets out a breath. "Everything is just an illusion."
"What do you mean?" I ask carefully.
His hand tightens at my waist. "Sapphire eyes mean you're blessed by the moon. Red hair means you're touched by the dying season. We show the traits we like and hide the ones we hate."
This isn't distant observation. The bitterness in his voice speaks of something personal.
Superstitions are woven into the fabric of fae society. I've heard of some of the absurd ones even in my court. It is said that red-haired fae are considered more vulnerable to iron, making them weak and unreliable for battle.
Touched by the dying season.
The truth is that another royal bloodline challenged Eirik's father thousands of years ago.
Therrin the traitor's line was infamous for having red hair.
After they lost, the myth was sown and watered until it became truth.
Perhaps that is why Landon's hair is dark now instead of the hint of red I caught while he was emerging from his bath.
"I think red hair is beautiful," I mutter quietly.
Landon pauses to look at me. Something shifts in his expression. Then he twirls me gently. "Where do you come from?"
The question makes me swallow against a dry throat. "Far."
His gaze traces the edges of my mask. "That's exquisite craftsmanship. Perhaps the eastern courts?"
Fear crawls down my spine. I shake my head. My heart is beating so fast. He guides me through the next turn and I force myself to keep moving. I maintain the steps even as my mind races for an escape.
"You don't have to tell me. Forgive me, I was being intrusive. Force of habit," Landon says after a moment. "But are you here alone?"
I hesitate. "Why do you ask?"
"A noble lady without an escort or chaperone is rare."
"I can take care of myself."
His lips curve slightly. "I don't doubt that."
He spins me out and back. The music builds toward its crescendo and the sequence calls for the partners to come close.
Landon pulls me in, his hand spread across my lower back.
We freeze in the ending position as the final note hangs in the air.
Our faces are close enough that I can see the dark flecks in his blue eyes through the mask. Neither of us moves.
Instead of releasing me, Landon keeps my hand.
"You look like you could use some air," he says with concern. "Allow me?"
He's guiding me toward the terrace before I can refuse.
The crowd parts easily for the Shadow Fae.
The revelry magic shifts around us as we cross the threshold.
I feel it bow to Landon's presence. The passage doesn't return us to the ballroom.
We step through the glass doors and the cool night air rushes over my skin.
"Better?" he asks, releasing my hand but staying close.
I nod, grateful for the space to breathe.
The terrace opens onto a breathtaking view of the fae realm spreading beneath us.
Calanmai lights twinkle across Avalon like fallen stars scattered across the earth.
They shine over the rivers that run with sparkling gold.
I inhale another deep breath at the sight of the trees as they glimmer with bioluminescence under the eclipse-darkened sky.
Avalon is beautiful. But I need to leave. I need to find Blaire. We need to get out of here before anyone realizes what I've learned—
"If it isn't the silver rabbit who stole a wyvern from my lawn," Landon suddenly says.
The world tilts. My muscles lock as his words register.
No. No, it can't be…
I turn slowly to find him watching me. His mask is now removed and held loosely in one hand. Without it, his features are starker. Eirik Bloodhound's Master of the Hunt stands before me.
How long has he known? Since the dance? Was this entire evening a trap, letting me think I was clever while he played with his prey?
"Remove your mask," he says.
The words are soft but carry the weight of command. My hands shake at my sides. I could run… but I've seen him fight before. Landon is faster than me and stronger. I'm trapped on a terrace and there's nowhere to go.
"Did you think I wouldn't know you?" His voice is quiet, almost amused. "I've spent weeks thinking about the thief who had the audacity to break into my estate. I told you I would find you."
And he would kill me.
That was the threat he'd made that day as I fled with Coral. The memory of his rage echoes in my mind. What will he do now that he has me cornered?
There's no point in denying it. He already knows. I reach up and remove the mask. My fingers fumble with the silk ties at the back of my head. They've tangled somehow, or maybe it's just that my hands won't stop shaking. Finally the knot gives way and I pull the mask free.
The cool air touches my face and for a moment there's relief. It's an inappropriate feeling, standing before someone who wants me dead. I force myself to look at the Shadow Fae and face whatever comes next.
Landon's expression changes.
It's not anger or triumph at catching the Elven Queen in enemy territory. Instead, his entire body goes rigid. His mask slips from his fingers and falls to the stone terrace with a soft clatter. He takes a step back and nearly stumbles. His eyes are wide, locked onto my face.
"You're my mate," he says.
The words hang in the air between us. It doesn't make sense. I already have a mate.
Svenn.
This fae is confused and mistaken. The eclipse is playing tricks on his senses—
"You're my mate," he repeats, stepping closer now. His hand reaches toward me like he can't help himself. I back toward the balcony rail, genuinely frightened by the look in his eyes. Desire and devastation war across his features.
"No. You're wrong," I whisper against the whistling wind. "I already have a mate."
"The bond doesn't lie. I can feel it. You're mine."
He reaches out.