The Key

Chapter 11

“Yeah, but banishment spells are specific,” Prince Dan interrupts. “You don’t get to bunch a set of different things in together. You gave me the rundown on the magic differences between angels and demons a couple hours ago, I don’t forget stuff that quickly. Even if Lucifer put some of his own magic into the archdemons, they would still qualify as something else. All the fire my dad makes is full of his magic, but you don’t get rid of him if you dispel his flame spells.” Briefly, he closes one of his eyes behind his mask. “Trust me, we check that kind of thing. So if Lucifer went anywhere, he would have gone with the angels.”

Casper wasn’t involved with the drafting of the spell tablets. Capturing Archdemon Alistair was pivotal in their understanding of demonic magic, but that is as far as Casper was truly involved in the process. There’s a great deal he doesn’t know about the intricacies of the banishment. He reassures himself, yet knows he’ll have questions for Uriel after tonight.

“I thought I was taking tonight off,” Casper chooses to say. “Unless you would rather instigate a debate I’d need to fetch books for.”

“Somebody save me, he’s got citations.”

Casper makes himself smile with his mouth.

With his free hand, Prince Dan strokes his fingers up the inside of Casper’s arm. “Ready for more?”

“Citations?”

Prince Dan moves his eyes in a quick circle. “Okay, enough of that.” As the song changes, he pulls Casper forward.

This time, they keep closer to the edge of the dancing. Casper gathers him close, and almost immediately, they’re swooping to the side. Prince Dan keeps them on the periphery for the sake of space, not to have it, but to use it, inhabit it, soar through it.

Stepping double-time in places, there is as much joy in the speed as there is risk. The turns are tighter, harder, and the dead weight of Casper’s wings threatens to drag him off his feet without a balancing flap to counteract the motion. He takes to spinning Prince Dan instead and turning in place to draw him back. They join. They separate for the sake of joining once more.

They run out of space for great, sweeping steps and turns, as even the strength of Prince Dan’s presence cannot overcome the press of moving bodies crowding them toward the tables. Their motions grow more contained, though no less controlled.

“We’re doing this every night,” Prince Dan says into his ear, his breath shiver-hot.

“But tomorrow night,” Casper reminds him, containing a sudden alarm.

Verbally, Prince Dan pauses before replying. Physically, his movements remain as smooth as ever. “Maybe I’m confident in your research speed.”

Casper forces himself calm. “You did promise,” he says. He’d agreed to this night for the sake of that promise. “I need to–”

“Cas,” Prince Dan calls him. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

Casper tries to spin him out, a bid for distance and a moment for thought, but Prince Dan takes the motion in a way Casper hasn’t seen before. Their arms rise over Casper’s head and then Prince Dan is behind him, one hand curved around his left hip. Right hand in right hand, Prince Dan holds him closer than he had in their previous dance, or in the entirety of their lesson. The prince’s jacket rubs at Casper’s wings unpleasantly.

“I’ve got you,” Prince Dan continues. “It’ll work out.”

“You can’t take care of me,” Casper tells a prince.

“I can if you let me,” he answers. His jacket continues to rub at Casper’s wings. His legs brush against Casper’s flight feathers. His hands are hotter than his breath, than the line of him at Casper’s back, and Casper can’t seem to stop trapping himself.

“ Dan ,” he says, hard, and Prince Dan turns him back around. Not knowing where else to go, Casper’s arm returns to its place around Prince Dan’s waist.

“I’m not asking you not to be scared,” Prince Dan tells him, eyes serious behind his mask. “I’m just asking you to trust me.”

“I’ve known you three days,” Casper says.

“Feels like longer.”

“But it hasn’t been,” Casper insists.

Prince Dan looks away. He licks his lips and exhales, his shoulders joining in for that motion.

“It was going to be a surprise,” Prince Dan says. “We had a look through some old logbooks – all right, Sam did – and there’s some stuff from a raid on a demon stronghold. Centuries old.”

“From a demon stronghold,” Casper repeats. It might be a lead, but it won’t be the tablet. If the tablet had ever fallen into demon hands, it would have been used already. They would have ended the banishment of their older brethren long ago, and this world would bear obvious scars from that outpouring. “What is it?”

“There’s a tablet,” Prince Dan says.

Somehow, Casper does not stumble.

Instead, he says, “In what color stone?”

“A dark blue-ish black,” Prince Dan answers. “About the size of a dinner plate, with some language nobody recognizes.”

It can’t be.

It could be, but it can’t be.

But Seer Shurley did say it was here.

In terms of clarity, verbal prophecies are typically cryptic, filtered heavily by a seer’s mind, but there is something almost uncannily straight-forward in the message In Winter Castle lies the key to the return of angels, and to the return of Lucifer’s might; beware, for demons know. Not for the first time, Casper wishes he’d had the chance to communicate with the seer directly. Perhaps this tablet is a stepping stone to his true goal.

For now, Casper stops himself from wondering and instead says, “That sounds promising.”

“Right?” Prince Dan says. “So relax. I told you, I got you.”

They dance on as if Prince Dan seeks to prove it.

His mind too full of questions to keep silent, Casper says, “You looked on my behalf.”

Prince Dan manages to make a shrug look graceful. “Sam did.” He spins Casper one way and then the other, arms raised and Casper moving beneath them, his wings tucked tight, and it is almost reassuring to have his body reflect his mind.

“Why?” Casper dares to ask.

“’Cause he’s a nerd.”

“Dan.”

Prince Dan ducks his head, horns lowering. “’Cause he wants me to be happy.” He looks at Casper and he doesn’t stop.

Not knowing what he’s meant to say, Casper says something else. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“This morning, you didn’t know how to dance,” Prince Dan reminds him, and he spins Casper again before catching him in a loose embrace. His voice might be gentle. It might be tentative. Casper needs a larger frame of reference to be certain. “Think it’s down to whether you want to learn.”

“It’s been three days,” Casper repeats.

“Do you want more than three days?” Prince Dan asks.

Casper holds his gaze and says, “Yes.”

There is no other answer.

Prince Dan smiles as slow and wide as the spread of his arms. “That’s a good start.”

“I’m not sure what you want from me,” Casper says.

“I want you to have a good time tonight,” Prince Dan tells him. He pushes one of Casper’s hands and pulls the other, and they spin apart and back to each other. “Relax a little. Well, learn how to relax, then relax a little. Do you like dancing? It seems like you like the dancing.”

“Very much,” Casper replies.

“Yeah?” And Prince Dan smiles so much more. “Then we’re gonna dance and eat stupidly tiny excuses for pie, and if you really, really want, you can whip out some of those citations you love so much. And you’re not gonna worry about the rest of it. Just for tonight.”

“I can try,” Casper says. If Prince Dan’s promise truly remains intact, he can afford it.

“That’s all I’m asking,” Prince Dan says, and he seems to believe it.

“Are you always like this?” Casper risks asking.

Horns glinting, Prince Dan shakes his head. “Haven’t been for a long while, Cas. But I know what potential feels like. And I know what passing up on it can do to you.”

There are no more spins as the song enters its final stage. There is no more separating, or undue speed, or any feat of notable difficulty. There is simply Casper’s arm about Prince Dan’s waist, Prince Dan’s hand upon his shoulder, and a palm resting against another palm.

They hold each other, and when they at last stop moving, they are still holding each other.

“Another break?” Casper suggests.

“Yeah,” Prince Dan says, and he lets all of Casper go except for his hand.

Seeing other couples abandon the dancing area for the benches, Casper asks, “Might we sit down?” He permits himself to sag slightly, a motion more unnatural than the position of his wings. He hasn’t been physically tired in centuries, not since Archdemon Alistair.

Looking at him with a somehow firmer focus, Prince Dan at last permits Casper to hold his arm. He moves Casper’s hand himself and doesn’t let go even once Casper grips his upper arm. “Right, you’re not used to this. You were holding up so well, I didn’t think – here.”

He guides Casper to the end of one of the tables, clearly inviting him to lean. Three people on the bench they approach realize they have somewhere else to be, and the space clears. Rather than step over the bench, Casper approaches the end of it from the side. He shuffles forward, astride it, and sits straddling, the end of the bench pushing only lightly at his flight feathers.

With another kind of smile, Prince Dan shakes his head and copies Casper, throwing a leg over the bench and sitting in front of him. Their knees touch, the space between their laps forming a large diamond. Casper leans slightly to the side, his arm on the table, to indicate fatigue. Prince Dan lays his arm on the table as well, and Casper turns his palm up before Prince Dan even finishes reaching.

“Didn’t mean to push you so hard,” Prince Dan apologizes. “You all right?”

“I may need to retire early,” Casper replies, “while I can still walk.” He catches at Prince Dan’s fingers, that light, brushing touch inspecting his palm.

Prince Dan lets himself be caught. “We can sit more.”

Casper shakes his head. “I promised three,” he says. “I don’t go back on my word, and certainly not with you.” Although Prince Dan claims Casper will have his research night tomorrow, Casper still speaks to establish an obligation.

“I wouldn’t want to break you,” Prince Dan replies.

“Worse than you have tried and failed,” Casper answers plainly.

Prince Dan frowns. “You just point ‘em out, Cas.”

Not for the first time tonight, Casper tells him, “I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“You don’t,” Prince Dan agrees, rubbing his thumb across Casper’s wrist, just beneath his sleeve. It tickles. “But maybe you could let me anyway, just a little.”

Casper considers this. “Just a little,” he allows. He lifts his fingers and slips them beneath Prince Dan’s cuff in return. It’s a tight fit with these narrow human sleeves. Prince Dan’s smile returns, as slow and hot and lingering as his touch.

“It’s great you want things on your own merit,” Prince Dan says after a long moment of quiet. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for that. But I’ve seen enough to know high-born stupidity gets farther than low-born smarts.” Seated at a table of aristocrats, he says this without trying to conceal his words.

“Is that why so many of your knights are low-born?” Casper asks, pushing the conversation away from himself.

Prince Dan shrugs with one shoulder. “You want resourceful people, you find the people without the resources. Really, we just started picking up people who showed promise around our hunts, and it’s worked out. That’s how Dad got Bobby and Rufus, that’s how Bobby got Jody and Jody got Donna, and all down the line. We’ve still got our legacies, like Jo. Her dad was something else, let me tell you.”

“Please do,” Casper says, and they talk about the knights and their hunts. Their knees stay pressed together on each side of the bench, though under the table, Prince Dan’s leg shifts. He presses forward as they speak, leaning closer to catch Casper’s words when those around them begin to converse more loudly. A gradual change, it is eventually the inside of Prince Dan’s thigh that presses against Casper’s knee. They don’t so much hold hands as clasp each other’s forearms. Every so often, someone tries to speak with Prince Dan, but the attempts never last long.

Casper leans harder onto the table. He tilts his head the same way, keeping it low, both curious and deferential. The angle bares the side of his neck somewhat, the effect no doubt enhanced by the dipping chest of Balthazar’s borrowed shirt atop his own.

Time passes, too much, and Casper is keenly aware that it tolled ten o’clock some time ago.

At a pause in the conversation, Casper straightens, pushing his shoulders back. Attentive, Prince Dan immediately changes track, asking, “Ready for three?”

Casper nods. He stands, using a hand on the table to push himself up. Prince Dan easily steps back over the bench and Casper allows himself to be steadied, as if it is the weight of his wings, not their stiffness, that wears him down.

“This is an interchanging dance,” Casper seeks to confirm. He wraps his arm around Prince Dan’s as if for additional help, which seems to please him greatly.

“Yeah,” Prince Dan says, cutting them a path out of the hall. “Still remember the steps?”

“I do, but that is for one specific dance.”

“And?” Prince Dan asks. “That’s the one dance you need.”

“All four partners need to perform the same one, to a suitable song,” Casper continues. “Presumably everyone dancing performs the same one.”

“That’s right,” Prince Dan says, “and I’ve got it covered. Have a little faith, Cas.”

“In the orchestra?” Casper asks.

Prince Dan laughs. “Fine, in them too. They might not be knights, but they still take orders.”

“How much of tonight did you prepare?”

“Not much,” Prince Dan replies. “Told Jo to tell you where to find me, had some water brought up to the library.” He smiles in a way that seems to touch Casper’s face. “Still can’t believe we spent over an hour and a half up there, and you never wandered off to look at the books.”

“They didn’t hold my interest.” There had been no tablets on the shelves. Still, he hadn’t had the chance to check the display cases, and he ought to be thorough, even while having a lead for tomorrow night. “Though I wouldn’t mind returning upstairs with you after this.”

Prince Dan inhales deeply, chest rising. “For the books.”

“And a quieter place to sit,” Casper adds, keeping with his role as a tired human.

“People will talk,” Prince Dan warns.

“People already are.” That much has been clear all night.

A few steps more, then Prince Dan asks, “Do you mind?”

“Do you?” Casper counters. “I’m not particularly suited for the public eye.”

“Cas,” Prince Dan says, “unless the public eye is blind, it thinks you’re gorgeous.”

“Somehow, I doubt that’s what they’re saying.”

“So you do mind.”

“I’m aware, not upset,” Casper says. Humans put great stock in breeding behaviors. Copulation between certain members of the species results in reproduction in addition to, or perhaps in lieu of, pleasure. Beyond this, Casper is uncertain of the specifics.

He’ll ask Balthazar, once he’s finished speaking to Uriel about the banishment spell. Hannah might know something as well. Her information, should she have it, would likely be a much calmer version of Balthazar’s, and therefore more practical. Still, there remains the irksome risk that all of it might be outdated, Hannah’s and Balthazar’s both.

“If it’s too much to handle,” Prince Dan begins, his mouth dropping close to Casper’s ear. “If, uh.” He swallows. “Last time. My last time. People talking. It was too much for her. And I get that.”

Casper looks up to him, their faces close. Again, they walk with the coordination of a dance, with trusting steps and arms entwined. It is very pleasant, and Casper will have to teach these human dances to his siblings when his mission is over.

“Just let me know,” Prince Dan tells him. “If it gets too uncomfortable.”

“I’m very comfortable,” Casper says, and he surprises himself to mean it, cramped wings and all. At the pleasure clear on Prince Dan’s face, Casper seeks to add more. “I’m glad you sought my company, though I’m still not certain why.”

“’Cause you made no sense,” Prince Dan replies. “The showiest wallflower, staring at the building and ignoring the people.” His eyes travel lower. “Plus the rest of you.”

“You make no sense either,” Casper says, because this is both bold and rude.

“Guess that’s why we’re both so interesting.”

It’s a fair point, and Casper nods.

They reach the throne room, but there is no music when they enter. For some reason, Prince Dan grins wider at this and guides Casper through the milling throng. He seems to know precisely where he’s going, even before Casper catches the first glimpse of gold-tipped horns.

At the base of a stone pillar wrapped in long, shining ribbons, Prince Samuel stands in a small circle of conversing party-goers. A much shorter woman stands beside him, her blue mask in the style of fae fashion. Casper recognizes her vaguely from the previous night, or he thinks he does. With wingless bodies and ever-changing outfits, humans are absurdly difficult to keep track of one night to the next. The consistency of the masks is as much a blessing as their presence is a hindrance. In any case, he’s almost certain this particular woman had been dancing with Prince Dan last night when Casper first approached him.

All gathered are listening to the man on the woman’s other side. A man of reasonable height, his mask is the sleek semblance of a wolf’s head. Beneath it, his hair is a sandy blond and worn short, not in the current mage style. He speaks with a smooth and quiet voice, and he gestures just as gracefully with hands sheathed in brown leather gloves, each fingertip glittering darkly with the suggestion of claws.

Prince Dan moves to his brother’s right, and he brings Casper with him. The circle opens and closes around them just as quickly. The man in the wolf mask pauses in his story to bow, and the rest of the circle, save Prince Samuel, follows. Looking to Prince Samuel, Casper aims his bow in the Mage Prince’s direction. Prince Samuel smiles back before wrapping an arm around his brother’s shoulders.

“I gave the musicians their break ten minutes ago,” Prince Samuel informs Prince Dan. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“We can give them fifteen,” Prince Dan replies. “I think introductions are in order. Sam, you’ve already met Casper. Casper, this is Lady Jessebel, healer mage and baroness.”

Casper bows to the blonde woman, though less deeply than he had to the prince.

Prince Samuel indicates the man in the wolf mask. “And this–”

The man in the wolf mask steps forward smoothly, removing his right glove. “Nicholas,” the man supplies. He offers neither surname nor title, merely his hand in a traditional shake. It’s a deliberate lowering of his own status, forgoing both mention of his family name and the need for Casper to reveal his own lack of one.

Casper takes his hand firmly, and Nicholas shows his teeth. “Seraph Casper, I presume. Have you come to slay archdemons?”

“Should the opportunity arise,” Casper responds.

“Then you would cause an even greater stir than you already have,” Nicholas says with what might be a quiet sort of kindness. He squeezes Casper’s hand with both of his before releasing, and the remainder of the circle introduces themselves in turn.

Following Nicholas’ example, they all use given names over titles, and Casper has an undeniable sense of social advancement over the night previous. No one else offers their hand, each expecting a slight bow on Casper’s part, but the change remains palpable. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Prince Samuel exchanging a smile with Nicholas and granting him a pleased nod.

With introductions finished, Casper shifts his weight to stand fractionally closer to Prince Dan. Noticing immediately, Prince Dan sets his hand where Casper’s wings overlap behind his waist. Around them, the conversation resumes, Lady Jessebel prompting Nicholas with Prince Samuel looking on attentively.

Very soon, there is a shift in the crowd as the musicians return to their places. Nicholas concludes his tale of goings on at the Royal Hospital. Prince Samuel leans down to murmur something to Lady Jessebel. She nods back up at him and stands on tiptoe to respond into his ear. They smile at each other before moving apart. Lady Jessebel approaches one of the women in their circle, whereas Prince Samuel pulls Nicholas closer with a glance. The pair of men look at Prince Dan and Casper.

“Ready?” Prince Dan asks.

Casper nods as seemingly the entire assembled throng takes their positions, a strange civilian formation. Civilians with an exception, Casper notes as Prince Dan guides him into place.

“It’ll be me, Nick, Sam, and back to me,” Prince Dan tells him. “Then it’s library time.”

Casper smiles and he risks showing teeth. Prince Dan smiles back. They stand at attention before each other, the brothers side-by-side and Casper beside Nicholas. As the music starts, they each turn their bodies to their right and extend a hand toward their initial partner. Their hands meet palm to palm before their eyes, and then they begin to move in full.

They step. They turn. Casper keeps his eyes on Prince Dan, and though they barely touch, they move together. Right hands then left hands, meeting and parting. They step. They turn. They perform as they practiced, and there is something grievously dissatisfying at this display of coordinated distance being their final dance.

Prince Dan nods out the beats leading up to the first transition. The changeover occurs smoothly, the brothers readily falling into step together and Nicholas keeping every motion deliberate. Prince Samuel says something to provoke a laugh from his brother, and Casper is careful not to look away from his new partner.

The leather of Nicholas’ gloves is soft, a strange contrast from Prince Dan’s roughened palms. Nicholas meets him motion to motion, and something inside Casper grows unnerved. Nicholas is a placid force, the calm one might expect of a healer. Composed, his only signs of distraction are the occasional glance to Casper’s wings where they rise over his shoulders.

“It’s like stepping into another world, isn’t it?” Nicholas comments. They step. They turn.

“It’s very grand,” Casper agrees. Right hands then left hands, meeting and parting.

“A welcome change, I’m sure.” The sound of his voice seems distantly familiar, but all these wingless humans look so similar.

“It is.” They step. They turn.

“Will you be staying until the wedding?” Nicholas asks.

“No. A prior obligation.”

Nicholas smiles faintly, shaking his head. “Such a shame.”

Their portion concludes. Again, they exchange partners. Again, Casper holds out his arm, and, again, the back of his hand is met with the back of another.

This time, something pulls .

Eyes wide, Casper jerks his hand away. He fumbles the motion in returning but does not have time to touch again before they turn apart.

Drawing closer, unfaltering in his own steps, Prince Samuel assures him, “You had it right, it’s back of the hand first.”

“Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll remember.” Prepared this time, he holds still through the next touch, and that pull is just as strong. Not a pull away from Casper, but a pull within . It slips somewhere not under Casper’s skin but adjacent to it, simmering within the magic that is his life force, and Casper knows what this is.

The knight with the fireball, the queen’s difficult pregnancy: Casper’s theory was right.

The ache of his wings vanishes. The fatigue of stress and subterfuge falls from him. Though the pull stops each time skin contact is severed, the surge of energy remains.

Showing no signs of noticing, Prince Samuel asks, “Is my brother behaving himself?” Where Prince Dan guided him and Nicholas met him, Prince Samuel anticipates him.

“It is my understanding that your brother is behaving as himself, Your Highness,” Casper replies.

Prince Samuel laughs. “I’m sure he is.”

Right hands then left hands, meeting and parting. The pull stops but the potential of it remains as long as the touch lasts. Under his skin, Casper thrums, as refreshed as if he’d spent a week meditating. He watches the Mage Prince for corresponding signs of fatigue, but Prince Samuel must be strong, composed, or both.

“You should stay for the wedding,” Prince Samuel tells him. “We still have a seat for Seer Shurley and no one to put in it.”

“I’m afraid I’m obligated elsewhere, Your Highness,” Casper replies.

They step. They turn.

“Has Dan already tried to get you out of that?” Prince Samuel asks.

“No,” Casper says, “but he has complained.”

Prince Samuel laughs again, and the vast store of magic beneath human skin becomes that much more accessible.

Still faintly buzzing with it, Casper makes the final change of partner. Prince Dan returns to him with a smile unrivaled by even his brother’s laughter. By some shared, unspoken thought, Prince Dan and Casper both repeat Casper’s mistake from their lesson, greeting each other not with the backs of their hands but with a mutual forearm block.

If anything, Prince Dan’s smile only grows. Somehow, there is no menace in the gleam of his teeth. It matches the light of his eyes too well.

Armed with new knowledge and what feels like an excess of energy, Casper grounds himself through one touch and the next. He stays calm, composed, and he knows he could hold his wings still for hours more of dancing. Holding the rest of himself back is now the concern.

Right hands then left hands, meeting and parting. They step. They turn.

The music slows, and they slow with it. They stand back in their initial square formation, arms out to their first partner.