First Night
I HAD SEEN THE Golden Hall only at a distance before, the yellow-tiled roofs of its tallest towers rising above the canopy in bursts of colour.
At ground level, its organic form blended with the forest, so that one moment we were travelling through untamed bush and the next I was standing looking up at the two great tree trunks that merged into the arch of the entrance gate.
My hands trembled as I showed my invitation, but the guards let me through without challenge, and I was abruptly here, on forbidden ground. I’d done it. The thrilling, terrifying excitement of that froze me silly until someone hmphed behind me and I hurried to get out of the way of the next guest.
The great ballroom lay open to the stars and was bordered by gnarled, twining kōwhai trees, their golden flowers in full bloom.
Small fae creatures perched in their boughs, and I looked for Golden among them without success.
Perhaps he was in the crowd? Maybe he wasn’t always a bird?
He certainly wasn’t the wyrling I’d assumed.
I’d heard it was possible for a powerful fae to shape-change.
I’d never met one that could before, but Golden’s magic was certainly powerful, because fae lords and ladies dipped their heads in acknowledgment as I passed, accepting me as one of them.
Lively music came from a band of green-skinned nymphs, the kind of tune that teased your feet to move with the beat. Giddiness filled me, and I moved closer, irresistibly drawn by the sound. I could dance all night if I wanted, or at least until close to dawn—hours and hours away.
I spotted my stepsisters on the dance floor and hastily huddled back toward the edges of the room. The twisting yearning that had driven me here wavered.
“—yes, I have only the two daughters.” I heard Lady Bloodthorn’s voice nearby.
I froze and slowly turned my head. My stepmother stood talking to a fae with gossamer dragonfly wings.
“I had heard you kept a human changeling in your household?” the fae asked in a tone of honeyed poison. They looked to belong to House Sweetgrass.
Lady Bloodthorn gave an awkward titter. “Who doesn’t?”
“We do not let humans in the house,” the Sweetgrass fae said contemptuously. “Lavender has been most carefully raised.” They nodded towards one of the dancers, presumably the scion of House Sweetgrass who they hoped would win the hand of the king.
Lady Bloodthorn’s smile was cold. “My own daughters do not find one mortal changeling a trial. Of course I understand those of particularly delicate natures may require more tender protection.”
The Sweetgrass fae smiled with equal chill. “How quaint of you. Does the king know your daughters enjoy playing with a mortal sibling?”
If my stepmother’s smile had got any colder, it would have grown icicles like fangs. “We are fond of our pet, but it is not the same thing as family, of course.”
She turned before I could hide, but her gaze skimmed over me without recognition.
The illusion was holding. Great. Fine. I was fine.
I moved jerkily away from them both, telling myself I was grateful my stepmother was fond of me.
Fondness was a good thing, wasn’t it? I could have belonged to a house like Sweetgrass and been relegated to the kennels.
But my hands shook, and I glared at the whirling dancers.
I wasn’t grateful; I was angry. The dark, reckless emotion rose up through my cracks, flushing my whole body with heat, sending my muscles trembling.
I wanted to do something ill-advised. Something to force all these fine fae lords and ladies to acknowledge the lowly human among them.
That was when I saw the lord of the Golden Wood, King Tāwhiri.
Tall, with deep bronze skin and dark hair that sparkled in the feylights, he would have been arresting even without the antlers and the great feathered wings.
Those were a bit of a surprise, more of an outward sign of belua blood than I’d expected, but there was no mistaking him.
When he came off the dance floor, men and women crowded in, vying to be next.
And yet there was a sense of stillness about him, as if he were the eye of the hurricane around which the rest of the world turned.
With his face in profile, half-covered by a mask, I couldn’t help considering his jawline.
It was well enough, I supposed, but, really, Acantha—river cliffs?
You didn’t think to mention the enormous feathery wings while you were getting caught up in poetic detail?
Or that he had antlers? How dare he scorn Rose’s horns, the hypocrite!
Tāwhiri opened his mouth to answer one of his courtiers—and then saw me and broke off mid-sentence.
All his feathers flared up for a second in surprise.
Oh no. Just what sort of magic had the tūī imbued me with?
Had the king seen through it? Should I run?
What if that made things worse? Could I bluff it out?
Unfortunately for all these sensible and rational thoughts, the seething anger still had me in its grip, and so I found myself lifting my chin, refusing to look away.
Had I gone mad? But it was too late to run now; he was striding towards me.
I held myself with a stiff confidence I didn’t feel, caught between defiance and rising terror.
Maybe I was about to get my wish to hold the court’s attention after all—and they would all take pleasure in seeing the lowly human punished for it.
Thorned Sister, why had I been so stupid as to come?
As he drew closer, I saw that his mask was accented with the same feathers as my own: black with a glittering blue-green lustre. The same feathers made up his vast wings, currently furled tightly against his back.
I’m not an idiot. My building panic swerved right back into anger, even hotter than before. Call me Golden, my left foot. Up close, I could see his blue-black hair was tipped with bright silver, like the back of a tūī’s head. His snowy-white cravat even evoked the tuft of the bird’s throat.
“Will you dance, my lady?” he said in the same smooth midnight voice I’d heard from a bird much earlier today. A feather and a song, indeed! He’d never been the lowly creature I’d taken pity on. He could have granted me true freedom, but instead he’d played me for a fool.
“You,” I said flatly.
“Me,” he agreed, holding out his hand. The arrogance!
He’s a king! I reminded myself. Of course he’s arrogant! You’re a human in the middle of a forbidden fae court! Don’t do anything foolish! Or at least not more foolish than you have already.
I took his hand.
His fingers curled around mine, the point of contact shivering through me as he led me out to the dance floor. Beyond him, I felt the eyes of the court. I caught sight of Lord and Lady Bloodthorn and Acantha, their eyes narrow and lips drawn tight.
King Tāwhiri’s arms were firm, and he moved with elegant, light-footed grace. If not for, well, everything, I’d have thoroughly enjoyed dancing with him. As it was, my emotions seesawed between outrage, panic, and curiosity.
“My intimates call me Tāwhiri,” he said.
“Good for them, Your Majesty,” I said before I could stop myself. I hastily pressed my lips tight.
His mouth curved. “This morning you pulled me from a trap, and tonight you wear my feathers. That is fairly intimate.” His dark eyes searched mine, as if he couldn’t puzzle me out. I wondered what he looked like under the mask. Undoubtedly beautiful.
I said nothing. It seemed safest.
“Thank you for coming. I wasn’t sure whether you would, even with two invitations,” he said into my fraught silence.
“Two?”
“The invitation to the house of Bloodthorn included all its scions.”
“Why did you want me to come? You don’t even know me. And I’m human.”
He looked surprised and a little ruffled, as if he were the only one allowed to ask awkward questions.
“I am currently obliged to seek a bride,” he said in a tight, clipped voice. “You yourself said you were a daughter of Bloodthorn. If I must choose from amongst the scions of the twelve houses, then by Sister Night, I will have the full breadth of them here to choose from.”
It shouldn’t have annoyed me that he’d invited me only out of perversity—why else would he, after all?—but it nonetheless did.
“I came for the music, not you, just so you know,” I said.
It surprised a laugh from him. He had a good laugh, warm and resonant as apple cider. That and the fact that nothing terrible had happened yet made me relax a fraction. After all, if the king had invited me personally, I couldn’t get into trouble for coming, could I?
I winced, thinking of Lord Bloodthorn. I definitely could.
“Why are you called Cinders? That’s not a traditional Bloodthorn name,” he asked.
We spun in silence as I debated how to answer. He’d bothered to find out my use-name? “My mother was a scullery maid, apparently. It’s not my actual name.”
“Apparently?”
“I never met her.”
Tāwhiri blinked dark eyes. “What is your true name, then?”
It was a rude question for a fae. I remembered that he was a king, which I’d been in danger of forgetting for a moment there, with the laugh and the warm hands and the intensity of his gaze.
“I don’t know. Lord Bloodthorn didn’t bother to ask when he took me, and he never gave me a thorn-name himself.” It came out more bitter than I’d intended.
His eyes bore into mine, and I felt uncomfortably seen. Tāwhiri canted his head. “Why did he take you, if he did not mean to treasure you?”
I sucked in a breath. It’s not pleasant to have a stranger voice your deepest insecurity after less than a minute of conversation. “What were you planning to do if I didn’t rescue you this morning?”
He said nothing, only looked a little ashamed.
Realisation hit me, followed swiftly by mortification. “Oh. You didn’t need rescuing, did you?”
Of course he hadn’t truly been caught in our bloodthorn tree.
He was a king. He probably had enough magic to blow the entire manor to smithereens.
He hadn’t needed saving, and I’d driven myself half-mad with pain this morning for nothing but his entertainment.
I was just a toy to him, a human puzzle that had briefly intrigued him with its novelty.
He’d invited me to his ball to see if I’d dance to his tune, and I had.
My anger roared up again, and the words were out before I could stop them. “All right, you’ve done your bit, dazzled the stupid mortal girl, thumbed your nose at your court. Go dance with your real bride prospects and leave me alone.”
I wrenched myself out of his arms, leaving him standing in the middle of the dance floor with wide eyes and his arms still half-raised.
Gasps rippled out from the assembled watchers.
I held my head high and glared at them, these beautiful and terrible sidhe, and relished their attention.
I might never be good enough for them, but right now, I was the one with the power to reject a king in his own palace.
Then I left.
There must have been a jolly good intention-sensing spell on the stag-drawn carriage, because it pulled up just as I stomped out the door.
I almost ignored it in a fit of angry principle, but the pragmatic part of me pointed out that while principle was all well and good, it wouldn’t be Tāwhiri suffering the long walk home on tired feet.
That thought damped the heat of my anger enough for me to climb grudgingly into the carriage.
I tried to fan it back to its earlier white-hot outrage on the ride back, re-playing the satisfying look of shock on Tāwhiri’s face when I’d refused to play his game, but no matter how I tried, I couldn’t recapture it.
Instead, a kind of hurt tiredness curled my stomach into knots, and I had a humiliating urge to cry.
The manor was dark and quiet when we reached it.
I stood for a moment gazing up at it as the carriage pulled away, leaving me small and sad and alone.
The ball would go for hours yet. If I hadn’t lost my temper, if I’d just swallowed my tongue and flattered Tāwhiri’s ego, I could have still been there.
Why had I ruined everything? Couldn’t I have played the grateful over-awed human for a single dance?
He’d have lost interest in his mortal toy if I’d just given him that, and I could have spent the rest of the night enjoying myself. Why had I let him get to me?
I gathered up my skirts and made my way into the house. Fortunately, I knew all the places to step to avoid creaks, and the gargoyles merely eyed me sleepily as I came in.
It was because he’d made me feel seen, just for a moment, I decided. Seen as no one else ever had. It had been a lie, but the fleeting illusion of it had struck deep, gotten beneath all my usual sensible armour.
My attic felt even drabber than usual, with my memory still ringing with nymph song. I hid the beautiful dress, mask, and shoes under my bed and told myself I’d be glad when things were back to normal tomorrow.