33
The night before the Blood trial, the king held a ball.
This ballroom was hewn out of obsidian and dotted with gemstones. I’d never seen so many jewels in one room; they caught the torchlight in a writhing rainbow of color that matched the swirling couples below.
I watched from a balcony with a few of the other servants. This was a more intimate affair, and servants weren’t allowed on the dance floor. Many of the Underfae had taken the night off, but Aidan and I had chosen to watch the spectacle instead.
He leaned against the railing, staring gloomily at Edric as the handsome Fire candidate danced with a succession of partners, both male and female. “He looks wonderful, doesn’t he?” Aidan asked dourly.
“He does.” Edric wore a cloth of gold tunic with a short cape crafted from links of variegated metal, each one fashioned to look like a flame.
“And he was very brave at the solstice.”
I chuckled, although the memory of the solstice was still painful. “Why do you sound so sad about how handsome and brave he is?”
Aidan traced the balcony railing with an ash-gray fingertip. “Because it’s hard to see something you want every day and know you’ll never have it.”
My laughter died. I couldn’t pass judgment on that.
My gaze inevitably strayed to Drustan. He, too, looked incredible in a copper ensemble that matched his hair. The torchlight highlighted his athletic movements as he turned lady after lady in smooth circles across the floor.
“Your prince is handsome, too,” Aidan said.
My fingers clenched around the railing. “I know.”
We hadn’t been together since the evening of the solstice. More than a week without seeing or touching him. He hadn’t sought me out, but I hadn’t sought him out, either.
“He mentioned you.”
“What?”
“At the solstice. At least, I assume that was you.”
“Oh.” The fucking comment. “I assume so.” Did I really know that he’d been speaking about me, though? How could I expect loyalty from a prince who only spent time with me behind closed doors, who would never be able to love me in the open?
Who might never love me at all?
“How did you feel about it?” Aidan tried to sound nonchalant, but I saw the concern in his eyes and was grateful for it.
I squeezed his hand. “Let’s just say I can empathize with your mood tonight.”
We watched for hours, until Edric kissed a beautiful Fae lady. Aidan left quickly after that.
When the clock struck midnight, I was the only servant still watching. I didn’t want to go back to Earth House and lie awake in bed worrying about what would happen tomorrow. Better to stand here watching with pride as Lara accepted dance after dance. She had been a success throughout the trials, and the Noble Fae were finally taking notice. I was happy for her, even though it made me sad to think that no one would ever know what I’d done. What I’d sacrificed, whom I’d killed , to help my friend win.
Footsteps sounded behind me.
I expected it to be one of the Underfae, so I was shocked when I turned and saw Kallen. He wore midnight silk flecked with diamond stars, and a thin silver band circled his head, contrasting sharply with his black hair.
“Hello,” he said.
I blinked at him as he joined me at the rail and rested his elbows against it, more casual than I’d ever seen him. “Hello,” I hesitantly replied. “Are you here for information? I don’t have any.”
He shook his head. “Not tonight.”
“Then why are you here?” He should have been dancing below, as he had earlier. He’d moved like quicksilver across the floor, light-footed and elegant.
“I find balls dull.”
“That’s no reason to spend time with a servant, much less a human.”
He made a humming noise. “?‘Much less’ isn’t any kind of term for you, Kenna.”
What did that mean? Typical faerie nonsense, but my skin flushed hot for reasons I didn’t want to examine. “Won’t you be missed? What if someone looks up here and sees you?” Interacting with servants was hardly a popular activity for the Noble Fae outside of the spring equinox celebrations. Except for Drustan, of course, who did whatever he wanted to.
Only in empty hallways and warded rooms, though , a small voice in my mind said. He hasn’t looked up once tonight .
My eyes fell to Drustan again—who was holding a blushing Earth lady far too close as he whispered in her ear. Jealousy surged in my breast, hot and stinging.
“No one misses me,” Kallen said.
The words startled me, and I ripped my attention away from Drustan and focused on the dark faerie at my side. “That can’t be true.” Surely at least other members of his house cared for him.
“How could it not be true?” He shrugged, a subtle, resigned movement. “No one even wants to look too closely at me, lest I murder them or betray them to the king. Half the court is convinced I can hear their whispers on the night air.”
I bit my lower lip, recalling the way he was able to disappear into shadow. “Can you?”
His mouth twitched at that. “Only if those whispers reach the ears of one of my sources.”
Sources like me. I tried not to hate myself too much for it.
“Well, I’m looking at you,” I told him, letting my gaze linger on his face, then the broad stretch of his shoulders under black silk. A deadly faerie. A beautiful one, too, but then all the Fae were.
“You do seem to lack a sense of self-preservation, yes.”
“I’m still alive, aren’t I?”
“You are,” he acknowledged. “Somehow.”
“I’ll try not to be offended by you saying ‘somehow.’?”
He was still facing the gathering below, elbows on the railing, but his face tipped towards me at that. A lock of black hair slid over his shoulder, and I had the irrational thought that his hair looked soft. His lips parted, but he didn’t say anything. I wondered if I’d annoyed him with my flippancy, for daring to speak to him like we were any sort of equals. “It’s interesting,” he replied at last.
“That I’m alive?” It was suddenly hard to form words. The way he was staring at me was…I didn’t know what it was.
“That you look . That I—” He bit down on the rest of that sentence, then shook his head. “The danger in looking at the wrong people, Kenna, is that sometimes they want to look back.”
Uneasiness crawled over my skin. I was so aware of him—of his height and the taut strength of his body, of the infinite and unknowable depths of his eyes. Of the stillness and the threat of him, of the bodies in his past and the blood in his future.
Of the way he looked almost…sad.
“Am I the wrong person in this scenario, or are you?” I somehow managed to ask, heart fluttering like a trapped rabbit’s.
Now he looked startled. “Are you—” He broke the words off, then made a soft noise I couldn’t interpret. “What a strange woman you are.”
The statement was so absurd it broke through the uneasy tension that had been building in my gut. Of everyone in Mistei, I had to be the least strange. “How flattering,” I said dryly, shifting on my feet and trying to shake off the lingering feeling of…whatever it was. I still didn’t understand why we were having this conversation, and I didn’t like not knowing. “So why seek out such a strange woman? Why not keep spinning your web down below, cultivating the rest of your sources?”
He scrutinized the dance floor, a small furrow etched between his brows. “I told you. Balls are dull.”
“You dance well, though.” Exceedingly well. I’d found myself watching him more than once, noticing the way he moved with liquid grace.
He met my eyes again, and now I saw exhaustion in those midnight-blue pools. “Dancing well doesn’t mean I enjoy it.”
“Perhaps you need better partners.” I nodded at the faeries below. “They’re all so restrained. In the human world…” I trailed off, biting my lip.
“What about the human world?” His gaze was solid and steady, encouraging me to continue.
“Dancing is more exuberant. Everyone ends up sweaty and laughing by the end of it. No one down there wants to sweat.”
“How succinctly you summarize the difference between the Fae and humans.”
I studied him curiously. I’d made what I’d thought was a horrible bargain with him, but he hadn’t been nearly as terrible as I’d expected. He hadn’t pushed me that hard or demanded as much as he could have.
He’d been oddly honest with me already tonight—as honest as the Fae ever were with their insinuations and partial truths—so I decided to see what else this enigmatic faerie would share. “Why haven’t you been crueler to me?” I asked softly. He winced, and I was so startled by that small sign of hurt that I laid a palm on his sleeve. “I don’t mean it like that. It’s just that you’re the King’s Vengeance. You could do anything to get what you want. You could torture me or threaten me or beat me, and the king would approve of everything you did. Why haven’t you?”
He studied my hand on his sleeve, then lifted his gaze to meet mine. “You saw the solstice punishments.”
“I did.”
“Every solstice I’m reminded of a fundamental truth. Act like your enemy long enough, and you become them.”
“I don’t understand. What enemy?”
He shook his head, dark hair brushing his shoulders. “It isn’t important.”
“No, I think it is.” His arm was warm beneath my palm, the heat of him sinking into me through the thin silk of his shirt. A more natural warmth than Drustan’s magical fire.
There was a long pause while Kallen looked at me like he was weighing questions and possibilities. “Roland thinks he’s justified no matter what he does,” he finally said. “So do all the Fae. So do I, most of the time. But not everything is justified.”
I squeezed his arm, strangely moved by the confession. To my surprise, he rested his other hand on top of mine. His palm was warm and calloused.
“You don’t want to hurt people,” I said wonderingly.
“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”
“I’m not surprised, just…” I hesitated. “All right, surprised.”
He barked out a laugh. “I appreciate your bluntness.”
“I’m not surprised about you, specifically.” I grimaced as he raised his eyebrows. “All right, maybe about you, specifically. But I’ve seen very little compassion in Mistei. By all accounts you’re a heartless spy and murderer, capable of any crime on behalf of the king.”
“And by all accounts humans are ignorant, dirty, worthless creatures.” I bristled, and he smiled. “Does that make it true?”
“Fair point.”
We stared at each other, caught in a moment that felt oddly fragile.
I don’t know why I did what I did next. All I knew was that it felt right.
I faced him fully, dropping my hand from his arm. His own palm slid away from mine reluctantly. “I think you need to learn how humans dance.”
His brows shot up. “Do I?”
“Yes.”
“Why is that?”
“Because balls bore you, and they shouldn’t bore anyone.” If I were free, I would love to be twirling down there. “Besides, this dirty human knows a few tricks that might surprise you.”
He let out another rusty chuckle. When I moved away from the railing, out of sight of anyone who might happen to look up from below, he followed, pacing after me with slow, considered intent. A shiver skated down my spine. This was some sort of madness, probably, but I raised my arms in a dancing frame and smiled when he clasped me close.
“What step should we do?” His hand flexed on my waist.
“I’m going to teach you something new.”
And I did, teaching him a rollicking dance I’d always loved. It wasn’t dignified or elegant, but it was fun. We spun madly, and as he threw his head back and finally laughed freely, I laughed with him.