Shadow Faerie

Chapter 10

Ten

Night has fallen, winter has settled, and the ballroom is alive with activity. Women in gorgeous gowns and men in traditional faerie attire—suit pants and high-necked jackets with sharp angled shoulders—mingle on the dance floor at the center of the ballroom. Dozens of round tables encircle the room, each with a dragon ice sculpture forming the heart of the centerpieces. From the glass chandelier at the center of the ceiling, strings of tiny sparkling lights radiate outward. And from the ceiling itself, glittering snowflakes tumble downward, vanishing into nothing before reaching anyone’s head.

I stand toward one side of the room with Aurora and two of her ladies-in-waiting who, it seems, have been allowed to return from the holiday Aurora sent them on. They chatter on and on, occasionally sending curious glances my way, while I try to pretend I’m interested in whatever they’re talking about. The truth is, my mind couldn’t be further away from this party. I can’t get the thought of ink-shades out of my head. Roarke and that woman were obviously speaking about the place he and Aurora whisked me away to the day they found me in my old bedroom at Chelsea’s house. The place where Dash and I ran from a shapeless shadowy creature—an ink-shade?—and ended up back in the faerie world near the tear in the veil. With everything else occupying my mind, I’d barely thought of that incident until this afternoon.

My gaze travels across the crowd as I wonder which of these ladies was in Roarke’s room earlier. It could be any—

“And what brings you to the Unseelie Court, Em?” The question comes from one of Aurora’s ladies. Mizza? Some strange name like that.

I take a moment to get my smile in place, but Mizza doesn’t seem to notice. “The Guild wanted to imprison me, but some of the Unseelies—personal guards of Prince Roarke’s, actually—rescued me.”

She lets out a ladylike gasp and places one hand against her chest. “Oh, how thrilling. Was the prince with them at the time? He is so handsome, don’t you think?”

“Why did the Guild want to imprison you?” the other young lady asks. Her name has completely escaped me.

“I’m Griffin Gifted, so the Guild thought I deserved to be locked up.”

Both ladies’ mouths drop open, but I maintain my serene smile. I’m allowed to start sharing the first part of my story now—minus the specifics of my Griffin Ability. By mentioning Roarke’s name when speaking of my rescue, I’m hoping people will be more likely to believe him when he stands up later and announces that I’m the love of his life.

“It’s a very exciting story,” Aurora adds, “and I promise I’ll tell you all about it later. But right now, I want to introduce Em to some other people.”

“That wasn’t too bad, was it?” she asks quietly as she ushers me away.

“Uh … I don’t know. I didn’t listen to most of what they said.”

“Em!” She smacks my arm, but her mock horror soon turns to a smile. “I suppose it is all quite overwhelming for you if you haven’t been to an event like this before. So many distractions.”

“Yes,” I murmur, watching a miniature pegasus fly past. Raising my eyes, I notice there are quite a few of them in the air, each a different pastel shade. As I watch, a woman reaches up, catches one, and bites its head off.

“Oh,” I gasp, jerking to a halt. “That’s horrible.”

“What is?” Aurora follows my gaze and starts laughing. “Oh, Em, it’s just a flying cake. They aren’t real creatures.” She stands on tiptoe and grabs one. It struggles in her grip, but the moment she pulls its wing off, it stops moving. “See? Just cake and icing.” She holds the wing out to me, and beneath the pastel pink outer layer, I see caramel-colored cake.

“Um, no thank you,” I say when she tries to get me to take the wing part. “That’s just disturbing.” I look away from the woman sharing the beheaded pegasus with her friend and concentrate on smoothing out my frown. “So, do people know there’s a reason they’re here other than your mother’s birthday?”

“No one knows for certain, but they all suspect an engagement announcement,” Aurora says. “I’ve heard the words ‘engagement’ and ‘union’ a number of times while walking around this evening.”

“And I’m not supposed to confirm their suspicions yet if anyone asks me?”

“No. Let’s keep people wondering for a little while longer. They can spread as many rumors around this ballroom as they like until Roarke makes the announcement. Now, let’s see.” She touches the choker of black pearls resting at the base of her neck as she looks around. “Who can I introduce you to—Oh. Never mind.” The musicians on the raised platform at the far end of the ballroom have stopped playing. Aurora looks toward the massive arched doorway along with everyone else in the room. “My parents have arrived,” she whispers to me.

As the Unseelie King and Queen are announced, every guest in the ballroom bows or curtseys. “Welcome,” King Savyon shouts out as we all rise. “Thank you for joining us as we celebrate Queen Amrath’s birthday. Tonight, you will delight in the grandest of entertainment, feast on the most exotic of dishes, and dance until the sun rises. Let the celebrations begin!”

The chandelier explodes, and the ballroom fills with shrieks and gasps. I duck down and look up, my thoughts floundering to figure out what’s going on. An outside attack? The king losing his mind and killing us all? But as the smoke clears, I see hundreds of parachute-like objects floating down toward the crowd. Fearful murmurs turn to whispers of amazement, then to laughter and pointing. Aurora catches two parachutes and hands one to me. A small cube-shaped box hangs from a canopy of petals. As I place the box on my palm, the sides and top disappear, revealing a silver rose within.

“Perfect,” Aurora says with a smile. “They turned out exactly how Mother wanted them to.”

“What is it?”

“Chocolate.” She giggles. “And an enchantment that keeps you from tiring until the sun rises. We’ll be partying all night.” She pops the rose into her mouth and gestures for me to do the same. I chew the bitter chocolate as I look around at people jumping to catch parachutes, passing them around to their friends, and comparing roses to see if they’re all the same. My gaze falls across a man looking at me—and my heart almost stops as I recognize Dash.

Shock slams into me as he looks away and two women jumping for parachutes block him momentarily from view. It can’t be him. It’s a trick of my imagination, my mind morphing some other young man into the image of Dash. Nevertheless, I blink and peer more closely, some part of me hoping that it might actually be him. But it isn’t. His hair is different, and his arm, I notice when he reaches up for one of the falling parachutes, is bare, lacking the markings of a guardian.

“Oh, look!” Aurora grabs my arm and pulls me around. She points upward as the light in the room dims and people in sparkly leotards descend through the air from the ceiling. They slip gracefully between the strings of lights and hang just below them, slowly twirling and somersaulting in coordinated movements to the accompaniment of eerie music. It reminds me somewhat of synchronized swimming, or aerial silks where acrobats perform while hanging from pieces of fabric. Except now, there’s no water to float in. There’s no fabric to hang from. These performers are suspended in midair by magic.

The evening continues with dancing—which I manage not to mess up—eating, and drinking, interspersed with various outlandish, magical forms of entertainment: jugglers tossing multicolored balls into the air where they transform into rainbow candies that whizz around making popping sounds and shooting star-shaped candies at everyone; a woman blowing bubbles into any shape her audience requests; a pair of centaurs who gallop in and perform a dramatic dance before galloping out; and a man who coaxes his magic into an Imperia-sized dragon made entirely of fire.

My imagination feels like it’s on overload from all the fantastical things I’ve seen in the space of only a few hours when Roarke finally comes up to me. I’ve seen him from a distance this evening, dressed similarly to most of the other men but with the cuffs and high collar of his jacket made from gold embossed fabric. We agreed a few days ago that we wouldn’t speak or dance together until after the announcement. So if he’s standing in front of me now, that must mean—

“My lovely Lady Emerson, I believe we have an announcement to make.”

I swallow as my stomach lurches. “Oh. Is it that time of the evening already?” I’d hoped to put it off as long as possible. In fact, part of me has been pretending all night that if I refused to think about it, it might never happen.

“Let us not keep our guests waiting any longer.” Roarke places his hand against my back and directs me toward the raised platform where the musicians are seated. “I think we’ve built the suspense long enough. Everyone’s enjoying themselves, but by now there isn’t a single guest in this room who isn’t wondering which pretty lady their prince has chosen for a wife. Let’s put all their whispered speculations to rest.”

The closer we get to the platform, the quieter the room becomes. Finally, as we climb the three steps leading up the side, silences descends, interrupted only by the occasional whisper and the rustle of skirts. “Remember to show everyone how happy you are,” Roarke murmurs, his lips barely moving and his smile still in place.

I’m not sure I can fake happy right now, but I can at least hide my fear. As Roarke faces the crowd and I come to a standstill beside him, I try to mimic the way he holds himself, pushing my shoulders back and tilting my chin up slightly. I force my lips into as much of a smile as I can manage.

Then I make the mistake of looking out at the crowded ballroom. Hundreds of faces stare back at me with expressions ranging from curiosity to outright dislike. Don’t show fear, don’t show fear. I blink and settle my gaze on the far wall, just above the line of people. Don’t fidget, remain poised, keep smiling. But despite my mask of confidence, a distant roar begins to fill my ears. My heart pounds so wildly I fear I may actually go into cardiac arrest.

Roarke begins speaking, but I hear only scraps of what he’s saying: my past in the human realm, my Griffin Gifted status, my rescue from the Guild. I hear the words ‘quick courtship’ and ‘deeply in love,’ and then finally, Roarke looks at me, takes my hand in his, and says, “I’ve never been happier than the moment my father gave us permission to be united.” He faces the crowd again, keeping hold of my hand. “And so, my lords and ladies, I present to you the woman I will be uniting with in exactly twelve days: the beautiful, captivating, kind Emerson.”

Silence greets the prince’s final words. It hovers, expands, presses against my ears, and then finally—it pops. Shouts, cheers and applause fill my ears, and suddenly this union seems all too real. I know I agreed to it, but as long as it wasn’t official, I assumed I would find a way out of it. But now that everyone knows, it seems almost impossible. For the first time, it hits me—really hits me—that I may have to go through with this. I will marry a prince. This palace and these people will become my life. This will all become my mother’s life too. For as long as it takes to figure out how we’ll escape.

“Shall we dance now, my love?” Roarke asks me.

Not trusting myself to speak, I simply nod. He leads me down the platform and toward the center of the ballroom as the music starts up again. My legs begin to shake at the thought of an entire ballroom of people watching us dance, but Roarke raises his voice and encourages everyone to join in. With excited chattering, they rush to find partners as Roarke and I face each other and move into the starting position.

I’ve already danced numerous times this evening, but it’s different now. No one cared who I was before. No one paid attention to me. But now, even though they’re all dancing too, I feel their eyes on me. It would have been great if my Griffin Ability had been able to give me the skill to perfectly perform every step, but apparently my Griffin Ability didn’t know how to do that. So I’m left to concentrate intently on every move, every intricate piece of footwork, every twirl and pivot. Fortunately, with an expert partner like Roarke, it’s easy to hide the odd mistake and hesitation.

Partners switch around us as the music changes again and again, but Roarke hangs onto me for a number of dances. He presses a kiss beneath my ear at one point, and I have to work hard to keep from cringing. I tell myself to be grateful he didn’t go for my lips. Eventually, he hands me over to another partner, and now I really have to concentrate, my attention split between making polite conversation and following the steps.

Time passes. I continue circling the room, switching to a new partner whenever appropriate. Though I’m entirely out of my comfort zone, the music entices me to continue dancing. Or is it the enchanted chocolate I ate earlier?

Dance, converse, switch partners, repeat. I begin to wonder how long I have to do this before I can excuse myself from the dance floor and take a break from it all. I spin around and into the arms of yet another partner. A man, I realize with my second shocking jolt of the evening, that I do recognize after all.

Dash.