Chapter 10
Alette
Music swells like a living thing, the rhythm foreign and unsettling. King Ashton leads me through the patio doors, and we pause in the doorway. Me, fighting the way my head feels light and detached. Him, staring at me as he drops his hold on me.
Glancing away from him, I look at the room in confusion.
Like magic, the tables are gone, and a dance floor is full of dancing fae.
King Ashton takes a couple steps forward, then looks back at me, waiting, but I don’t know what for.
He should join his people. He should dance if he wants to. And just leave me alone.
But I get the feeling this night is far from over, even though I’m exhausted and spent.
My mind keeps searching for that quiet, safe space inside me to disappear into, but the sharp world around me keeps me tethered to reality.
Everything about this world is too bright, too colorful, too full of movement and noise.
Fae spin and sway in elegant, otherworldly dances, their bodies moving with a fluid grace I could never hope to mimic.
It’s mesmerizing, almost like watching a river flow effortlessly around rocks, washing over every obstacle with ease.
The room is alive with vibrant colors, fire fae in blazing reds and oranges, their movements sharp and fierce; water fae in deep blues, their steps flowing like water over stones; earth fae in muted greens and browns, grounding and steady; and wind fae in stark whites and silver, darting gracefully as if carried by unseen currents.
It’s breathtaking, and yet the beauty feels foreign and hollow.
I much prefer watching the drunks dancing at the inn.
“Pretty little human,” King Ashton’s voice cuts through the music, smooth and full of charm. It’s a voice that seems to wrap around me, warming me momentarily before I remember who I really am, where I really am, and who this fae king really is to me.
I turn to see he’s come back to stand close to me, so close I’m shocked I didn’t sense him sooner. His golden hair gleams under the light of the chandeliers like it’s a halo around him. “Dance with me.”
“Dance?” I repeat, eyeing his outstretched hand as if it might bite me.
“Yes, dance. You know, when two people move to music?” he teases, stepping even closer. I can feel the heat radiating from his body like a fire. “I promise to make it the best dance of your life.”
Not that there’s much of a competition. I’ve never danced with anyone outside of silly dancing at the town tavern. Ever. And certainly not at a fancy ball like this. That thought rolls over me, making a ball form in my stomach. “I don’t know how to dance…”
A curious look washes over his face, and his tone shifts, becoming more sincere, less like he’s performing for the other royals. “I’ll teach you.”
I bite my lip, my heart pounding like a wild animal desperate to escape.
“Come on,” he coaxes, his voice low and inviting, a gentle pull that tugs at something deep inside me. “It’ll be fun.”
Fun. The gods know I haven’t had much of that in my life. I hesitate, caught between the desire to escape this reality and the unexpected pull of his cheerful confidence. It’s as if his grin tugs at something unfamiliar in my chest, a spark of longing I can’t quite place.
Reluctantly, I place my hand in his, and the moment our skin touches, an unexpected jolt of energy races through me, igniting every nerve ending. “Okay.”
King Ashton leads me onto the dance floor, and the crowd parts to make room for us, their eyes following our every move. Anxiety builds inside of me as I become the focus of the fae. This was a mistake. I’m going to make a fool of myself.
The music shifts, slower now, the melody wrapping around us like a warm embrace.
He places one hand on my waist, firm yet gentle, and keeps the other clasped around my hand, guiding me effortlessly to a tune I’ve never heard, a dance I’ve never imagined.
My other hand rests on the top of his shoulder, not really knowing what to do.
There’s a strange intimacy in the way he holds me, a connection that sends my pulse stuttering.
To my surprise, I don’t stumble. I don’t step on his feet or tumble to the ground.
I just… let the fae king lead me in this odd dance.
The world blurs around us, the other fae fading away into a swirling background of colors and sound.
And it’s strange how familiar this all is, as if we’ve danced this way a million times before, in another life.
“You’re better at this than you let on,” he says, his brown eyes glinting with amusement.
“It’s all you,” I confess.
“It’s not. Trust me, I know. I’ve had many poor dance partners, more than I can count,” he says, leaning in slightly, his gaze fixed on my face with open fascination.
I feel the heat rising in my cheeks, and I look down, suddenly self-conscious under the weight of his attention. I'm… no one. Less than no one. I’ve been told that every day since I was ten years old. Why are these fae kidding themselves into thinking I'm special?
I nibble my lip. “Well, maybe we’ve been dancing long enough…”
He looks surprised, as if he can't fathom why I would want to stop. “Done already? Surely you want to dance longer?” His tone is light, playful, but there’s an underlying seriousness that tugs at my heart.
I do want to, but I don’t. “This just feels strange. You. Me. Everyone.”
“Strange but fun?” he asks, lifting a brow, a teasing glint in his eyes.
“I don’t know.”
His voice drops, low and intimate, as if we’re the only two people in the room. “I think you enjoy my company more than you let on.”
“Huh?”
He tugs me just an inch closer. “I think I’m just what you need.”
“What are you doing?” I ask, confused and a little alarmed at the way the energy has shifted between us.
“Why, I’m flirting with you, Alette. Don’t they do that in the human world?” he replies, his tone so casual, so sincere, that it takes me a moment to process his words.
It wasn’t obvious before, but now it is.
There’s something intoxicating about his attention.
But along with that warm feeling, there’s a nagging voice in the back of my mind, reminding me that this is all just a game to him, a performance for the other fae and a way to keep me on his side, to do the quest. Because all he wants is his connection to the elements back.
I study him, searching for any hint of deception behind his dazzling smile and playful remarks.
I’ve never been great at reading people, but I know in my gut that the man before me is hiding some aspect of himself. There’s something lurking beneath the surface, something dangerous and bloodthirsty that I can’t quite grasp. It’s the same thing that all the fae are hiding tonight.
Before I can dwell on it further, a voice cuts through the music. “Well, isn’t this cozy,” someone sneers, the disdain thick in their tone.
I glance over my shoulder and see King Oberon standing near the edge of the dance floor, arms crossed, his sharp blue eyes locked onto me and King Ashton, his scowl deeper than usual.
Or maybe not. This guy has done nothing but scowl since I met him.
All the kings make me nervous, but no one more than the king of the fire fae.
“What do you want, King Oberon?” King Ashton asks, his tone light but his posture stiffening, the air between them charged with tension.
“I want to dance with her,” King Oberon says, stepping forward with unsettling confidence.
“She’s already dancing with me,” King Ashton replies smoothly, refusing to relinquish his hold on my waist, his grip firm.
“I wasn’t asking,” King Oberon snaps, the menace in his voice palpable as it slices through the celebratory atmosphere.
I feel like a rope in a tug-of-war, caught between the two powerful men. King Oberon glares at King Ashton, who smirks back with an easy confidence that probably infuriates the other fae.
Me? I’m just trying to shrink between them, to disappear from this whole tense situation.
“You don’t tell a fae king what to do,” King Ashton says, each word measured.
“You’ve had enough time with the chosen one, and you know it,” King Oberon asserts angrily, his eyes narrowing.
“Maybe let’s let her decide,” King Ashton suggests finally, his grip on my hand tightening slightly, as if he senses my anxiety. “Unless you’re afraid she’ll choose me,” he adds, a teasing note creeping into his voice, but I can see the flicker of seriousness lurking beneath the surface.
King Oberon growls, low and threatening, and before I can say anything, he grabs my arm, pulling me toward him. “Enough,” he snaps, his tone leaving no room for argument, his grip tight.
The sudden movement throws me off balance, and I grab onto King Oberon’s arm to steady myself.
That’s when it happens. A flame erupts from Oberon’s free hand, licking up his arm in a blaze of red and gold, illuminating the stunned expressions of the fae around us.
The crowd gasps, the music screeching to a halt, and the ballroom stills, other than the fire that’s casting flickering shadows across their awestruck faces.
“King Oberon of the Fire Fae,” someone whispers, awe in her voice, the reverence palpable in the air.
“How is this possible?” another voice murmurs, confusion rippling through the crowd.
I look around, bewildered, as fae drop to their knees, shock written plainly across their faces. Others whisper, their expressions flickering between fear and wonder. Why is this so strange? I mean, he is called King of the Fire Fae.
The flames fade, leaving King Oberon staring at his hand as if it belongs to someone else. He flexes his fingers, his scowl replaced by something almost like wonder.
“What’s wrong?” I finally ask, my voice trembling as I struggle to understand what just happened.