Chapter 31
Candles crowded the room, and the chandeliers dripped with melted wax.
Golden flames danced on top of them, reflecting off the mirrored walls and bouncing to every glinting corner.
Dancers floated by in elaborate costumes better suited for a medieval ball than the twentieth century.
A few wore stylized Elizabethan clothes, with ruffs and bubbled breeches.
Others sported full-face masks shaped like unnamable beasts, while some wore masks that only covered them from ear to ear, leaving their grinning, hungry mouths exposed.
Every guest had a visible weapon that glinted at their waist or on their wrist. Long rapiers extended like tails from some, while others had sharp-toothed axes crossed over their backs. Mouse was grateful for John’s sword cinched at her waist.
The Faeries seemed to have an aversion to gunpowder, as Mouse could not spot a single pistol among the hundreds of Faeries crammed into the room. She wondered if that was another reason they left the mortal realm. Did the creation of guns and cannons disgust them? Or frighten them?
Luckily, the Faerie courtiers were more interested in their conversations or their dance partners than they were in Mouse, so she could dart unseen into a corner to strategize.
Nearby, two Faeries huddled against each other, whispering conspiratorially.
One had ribbons hanging down off her craggy horns and framing her face.
The other had long black hair tied back into a knot.
It took Mouse a moment to register that his hair was a flurry of feathers that ran down his back and burst out of his cravat.
They both drank from golden cups full of liquid the color of starlight.
Mouse could smell the alcohol from her post by the wall.
“Did you hear that Thornwood gave his source of power to that mortal girl?” the Faerie woman asked, her voice rough as sandpaper. She took a sip of her drink, her eyes keen on the Faerie man’s face.
“Of course, that’s all anyone here wants to talk about,” said the Faerie man. He coughed every third word, and his eyes dropped as though he was struggling to stay awake.
“His father was just as foolish.”
“I suppose so.” The Faerie man’s eyes scanned the room, blatantly searching for more exciting gossip. Mouse wondered how the woman managed to rope him over to her, considering his disinterest.
“They say he is in love with her,” the Faerie woman continued.
Mouse’s heart vaulted and stumbled. She could not help but lean in closer.
The words caught the Faerie man’s attention, too.
The feathers rose on his back. He brushed them absently, but the Faerie woman saw that she had piqued his interest. “Yes, in love with her. That’s why the King wants to be rid of him so badly.
You know how he feels about things like that, after Viola.
And I’m sure that is why the King banished the girl. ”
In love with me? Mouse struggled with the thought.
Just before they were married, Mouse believed that he might have feelings for her.
She knew now that she had feelings for him, despite herself, especially after the night in the library.
But how could he love her, after he had betrayed her?
Even if he was a Faerie, Mouse felt that his treachery struck down any assurance of love.
Still, she remembered Thornwood stepping between her and the Faerie King, protecting her from the monarch’s magic. And he had enchanted the bag at John’s cottage. That magic must have taken a toll on him, when he was bound by the Faerie King and missing his source of power.
“Plebeian, mortal dilemmas,” the Faerie man said, and the Faerie woman nodded.
“They sent the hounds after her. I heard she was torn up just outside of town.”
The Faerie man scoffed, “Certainly not. I was there.”
The Faerie woman smiled, catlike in her glee.
“Oh yes. How could I forget?” she cooed. “You know it all, then. Tell me, and I can straighten the others out.”
“I see we have nothing more to say to one another,” he said.
The Faerie man bowed before drifting away.
The Faerie woman shrugged before throwing back the rest of her drink.
Sparks drifted down around her face from the base of the cup.
She opened her eyes while her lip rested on the rim and caught sight of Mouse.
She lowered the cup, and her lips pulled apart in a vicious snarl.
“What are you looking at?” she growled.
Mouse froze, internally kicking herself for getting too caught up in their conversation. She searched her memory for anything useful and dove into her first idea.
“Please forgive me, ma’am,” she said. She plastered on her best local accent. It was a horrible imitation, somewhere between the village baker and a pirate, but Mouse hoped that the Faerie woman would not know the difference. “I meant no harm.”
Mouse did not need to fake the fear in her voice.
“Spying, were you?” the Faerie woman asked.
“Oh, no, ma’am. I was stunned by your beauty, is all.” The Faerie woman preened slightly at that, and Mouse continued. “I feel so foolish, but I wanted a glimpse of the beautiful Fae folk I’d heard tell of since I was a child.”
The woman opened her arms wide, putting her soft pink gown on display. It was slightly more modern, like Mouse’s, with pale jewels crusted over the bodice. “And?”
“You are beyond my imaginings, ma’am,” Mouse said, dipping into a curtsy.
“And him?” she asked, pointing her chin to the Faerie man who’d just left. He was leaning next to another Faerie woman with gossamer wings and a bear mask.
“Perhaps he might be to someone else’s taste, my lady.” Mouse wrinkled her nose.
The Faerie woman laughed. “I like you, even if you are a little fool for venturing into the spider’s web. You had best go before someone less forgiving catches you.”
A pinch of relief mixed with Mouse’s adrenaline. She had taken a chance when counting on Faerie vanity, and it seemed that it paid off.
“I cannot leave until I see the Faerie King, ma’am.”
The Faerie woman laughed again. “Looking for death, are you?”
“No, my lady. I promised my brother I would see if the tales about the Faerie King are true.”
She waited, her heart thrumming in her ears.
“Very well, I’m hardly going to stand in the way of an amusement. Just do not beg me for your life when he catches you.”
Mouse bowed, but the Faerie woman had already flounced off, searching for another glass of the star drink. Taking her chance, Mouse darted into a busier section of the crowd.
She plucked an abandoned silver mask off a table and tied it on quickly, hoping that the owner would not miss it before Mouse completed her task. She scanned the room for Thornwood.
The Faerie dances were half minuet, half dance-of-their-own-making.
It was hard for Mouse to predict how they would move.
She found herself dodging dancers and revelers equally.
Luckily, the star liquid kept most of them occupied, and the others were focused intently on one another.
Each Faerie had a fiery look to cast at someone.
Whether it was a look of love or hate, it did not seem to matter much to them.
Faerie servants stood out in the crowd like ink stains.
All were dressed head to toe in black, as Mickelwaithe had been, although Mouse did not see him.
The Faeries buzzed around them, taking the drinks and food as quickly as they arrived.
The servants moved briskly through the crowd, avoiding the dancers with ease.
They flitted between different groups, restocked trays appearing in their hands as soon as the previous ones ran out.
A tall Faerie servant with red hair tied on top of her head worked through the crowd nearest Mouse. Mouse followed her at a distance. It was easier to pass through the group while following the woman, and soon Mouse was free from the crush of bodies.
She saw a raised platform in front of the fireplace.
The fire roared, and a throne stood like a shadow in front of the flames.
Mouse could not see if anyone sat on its seat.
The darkness felt like deliberate magic in such a bright room.
Her heart croaked in her chest as she dodged to see the throne through the dancers.
The redheaded servant changed course, diverting from her path toward the throne to another group of Faeries forming a circle around something Mouse could not make out yet.
Mouse followed close behind. Laughter rang out from the Faeries in the circle.
Sparks twinkled near their heads before floating down and mingling with their hair and clothes as they drank.
They spoke in elaborate riddles built of English, French, German, and a language Mouse did not recognize.
It almost sounded like Irish Gaelic, but the words were strange cousins of those her father would sing under his breath while he worked.
The Faeries pressed in around the servant, vibrant birds of paradise surrounding a stoic crow. A spring of unseen magic refilled the items on the servant’s silver tray, and Mouse used the distraction to slip through to the middle of the circle. She froze.
Thornwood was there.
Dark chains bound him to the floor. A purple bruise marred his left eye, and his scar stood out against his haggard, pale face. His eyes flashed dangerously at the surrounding Faeries.