Chapter Fifteen
Lark
Zomo has outdone herself. The great hall is transformed from its empty, desolate state of a few hours ago, and although magic has made the feat possible in mere hours, her vision is truly unmatched. Vines creep over every surface, flowers blooming in corners of the room.
We Unseelie might value fauna more than flora, but we are still creatures of nature. From the impressed murmurs I hear from small groups admiring the flowers, which shimmer in the faint glow that emanates from the walls, I know that Zomo has made her point.
She will remain in the Unseelie court. She has thrown a ball worthy of a future king.
The troll at the door announces my entrance, and all heads swivel our way.
Grant is a step or two behind me and Dante, but the troll skips over Dante to announce Grant instead, mentioning only his supposed species and name.
Selkies are notoriously social, and I do not know how he has managed to avoid affiliating himself with even an invented clan, but then perhaps he has used the mention of a husband to his advantage.
A human partner is hardly valued here, no matter the species of fae.
My fingers twitch with the urge to reach out and rest my hand on Dante’s lower back, to steer him through the room.
He receives as many curious glances as I do, but he keeps his eyes down and does not stray.
My jaw hurts from how tightly I am already holding it.
If they knew the truth of my soulbond, things would be very different.
Of course, if they knew the truth, Dante would not be here at all. The thought seizes me. I know the truth, and that is that, had Dante been stolen, I would not have taken so long to arrive. I would not have waited meekly for someone to bring him to me.
I recognise hardly any of the fae who move to greet me, and many are younger than I expect, which is to say, at least a few centuries old, but younger than those who used to make up our court.
And it is court fae who greet me first, desperate to be seen and recognised and to, hopefully, keep their positions once that crown rests on my head.
I murmur my way through the pleasantries, and though gazes stray to Dante from time to time, no mention is made of him.
“You have been to visit them?” the fae before me asks. Veles. He is older, older than even my parents, though by a handful of years. His dark hair is shot through with silver—a magical indulgence rather than a quirk of aging. I do not know when he will fade. He appears hearty enough.
“The tomb?”
He inclines his head in affirmation.
“Yes. We were there this afternoon.”
He looks at Dante, and there is no indication of surprise on his face that I would take a pet there. Dante darts his eyes up, then away.
“You would have been wiser not to bring him here,” Veles says to me after a few silent seconds.
“I would have been wiser not to come back at all. Unfortunately, my hand was forced.”
“You should have never allowed it to be.”
I bristle, and so does Dante, though his reaction is, somehow, even subtler than mine. Veles clicks his tongue against his teeth, annoyed.
“There has been talk already,” he says. “We cannot risk our entire realm every time a leader passes.”
“Talk about what?”
“Whether the fae who wear the crowns should rule us.”
“You sound like a Seelie.”
Veles raises one eyebrow. It’s not a reprimand; it is a challenge, and my cheeks burn. Dante watches him now, unabashed, and Veles turns his attention from me.
“There are a few other pets here,” he says. “Should you stay awhile, you will undoubtedly come to meet them.”
“Others?” Dante asks.
Veles nods. He turns slightly, indicating one of the low sofas at the back of the room. Three men occupy it, each of them young and lithe and glowing, but also undeniably human.
“They have been with us for some time. Far more time than they ever would have had in your realm.”
Dante says nothing. He stares at them, wide-eyed and almost confused, then drops his gaze again and takes the tiniest step closer to me.
Even if I could declare him my soulbond—and I would, in a heartbeat I would—then those pets still might end up his only company. I know no other high fae with a human soulbond. I am certain that most fae who have them leave this realm entirely.
It was not made for them. Even now, I watch the way one of the pets laughs, glassy-eyed and flushed. He has a faint, shining scar down his right cheek and pats another pet on the shoulder before he takes an overeager sip of his wine.
His laugh is hollow.
“There are a few candidates you could choose to sit on the other throne,” Veles says, all his warnings and cryptic statements apparently forgotten. “If you like, I am more than happy to discuss them with you.”
I nod. I know I will likely take him up on the offer; I do not know these fae well enough to make that decision alone. I can assess their raw power, but the crowns are heavy and I need someone who can withstand that weight alongside me.
“Enjoy the rest of the ball, Your Highness.”
He inclines his head to Dante, too, before he walks away, and I signal over one of the fae serving tonight, a kelpie who is wearing half of her glamour. She offers me a tray of wine and I take one glass before I wave her away.
“I would offer you some,” I murmur, “but I fear it would be too strong.”
Dante huffs. “Probably.”
Some fae are already dancing. A few are in pairs, but most are in groups, and the flute players speed up as they move faster.
I spot Grant across the room, chattering away to a small group of gancanagh who already seem completely enamoured of him.
Every so often, his gaze sweeps the area where Dante and I are standing.
“Do you think she’ll be here soon?” Dante says, and I take a sip of the wine. It is tart, flavour bursting on my tongue, and I wonder if Dante will taste sweeter.
He asked a question. I nod. “Most likely. The party will continue until sunrise. Almost all of the guests should already be here.”
He is careful in the way he moves, but I know not all the eyes on him are confused or judging me for apparently bringing a pet when I have found my soulbond.
No. Many of these fae covet him, and—I look at the other pets again.
Each of them wears a collar, thin chains and necklaces that glint in the light when they move. Other fae know better than to touch.
I could have offered Dante one under the guise of him wearing jewellery. He would not know to ask what it truly meant. But I could not bring myself to do it, even as I want to see something on him that claims him as mine. The colours are not enough.
I take another drink of my wine. A deeper one this time, and Dante stands a little more rigidly next to me.
“Are you all right?” he says.
“Fine,” I reply curtly. “Come. We should meet more fae.”
I sweep off without another word and Dante follows me, sticking by my side as we spend the next hour speaking with groups of fae.
Our castle is the heart of the Otherworld, being as the crowns reside here, but many of these fae own their own estates and land beyond our reach, though being on the Unseelie court is an honour, even for them.
I am surprised to find no Seelie here, the tailor’s soulbond being an exception. Zomo has been gracious enough to invite them both to the ball, likely in view of their work today, and as far as I have seen, no one has bothered them.
“It is an honour to have you back,” one of the high fae says. She is young, maybe only two centuries old, and her red hair has been artfully arranged to fall around her face. When she meets my eyes, she blinks slowly and smiles. “We have held out hope for one of our princes to return.”
“I never thought I would return here,” I reply. “You are…?”
“Nuala Aeferthe.” She ducks her head. “My mother, Remiette, sent me. She served on your mother’s court.”
I nod. I remember her, though nothing particularly stands out in my mind.
I always did my best not to spend too much time with members of the court.
But Nuala seems keen for me to acknowledge her, and it is only when Dante shifts his weight, moving infinitesimally closer to me, that I understand her true intentions.
Soulbond or not, Nuala would like to sit on the throne, and she believes that her appearance and charm will be enough to secure that position.
I give her the faintest smile. “It is a shame your mother has not opted to return herself. With all the change our realm has seen, a few traditional court members would prove useful.”
Nuala nods quickly, but some of the enthusiasm fades from her gaze. One of the fae with her titters, and I turn a sharp gaze on him. He wilts immediately. If I am to rule this place, then I need to show my strengths and set my own boundaries.
I reach up and settle one hand possessively on the back of Dante’s neck. I have seen his wolves do it from time to time, and besides, it is the only place I can touch and feel the soft warmth of his skin. Nuala swallows hard and her face flushes.
“If you are to take your mother’s place in the court, at least I can be assured you will have someone to turn to should you require any guidance,” I continue. “I do not recall her steering my mother wrongly in the past.”
“I am honoured to hear it,” Nuala says. She knows where she stands now. It is better to get that out of the way sooner rather than later.
“Presenting Oisin Hlyn,” I hear and turn to see the fae who has turned up unforgivably late to the ball.
At first, he does not look interesting at all.
He is like most high fae—tall and lithe and good-looking, although his sweep of black hair is cut shorter than any high fae I have seen tonight.
The deep blue of his robes complements his dark skin, and he greets Zomo first before turning his attention to the rest of the room.
It is then that I see it. Every flower in this ballroom has turned its face towards him, and the vines closest to him vibrate with excitement. His power brushes briefly against mine.