Page 118 of A Dance with the Fae Prince (Married to Magic 2)
Chapter 34
Raph sets a breakneck speed.He’s so much more nimble than I that I’m scrambling to keep up. He bounces down the rubble as though it were skipping stones, landing on a cobbled river walk below as I’m just climbing down the first boulder.
I bite back shouting his name. I don’t want to draw attention to ourselves. I just have to keep up. So I jump. I land hard, falling forward and scraping one knee so I don’t roll my ankle. I push off with both hands and run in the direction that Raph disappeared, praying I haven’t already lost him.
Citizenry of the High Court are only adding to the confusion. They’re silhouettes, darting around frantically. It’s utter chaos. Yet miraculously, I manage to spot Raph among the fray.
He glances behind him and catches my eye; I nod and we keep running.
A sudden, icy wind whips through the area, dissipating the smoke. As it does, I grab Raph by the collar, and yank him into a small alcove where others are huddling. I push to the back, holding him close with both hands. Raph glares up at me.
“We should—”
I shush him, looking back over the square. None of the other people around us seem to pay us any mind. We’re just two other citizens of the High Court, afraid of and darkly fascinated by whatever wrath the Butchers are about to reap on the intruders.
Shaye stands alone on a bridge that spans the river in the center of the square. Her shoulders are relaxed, hands on her hips, as she looks up at the four Butchers that are perched on the nearby rooftop. One of them lazily flips a dagger.
“Impressive you made it this far, traitor,” one of the Butchers says blandly. “Maybe that means you won’t be totally boring while we kill you.”
“Why don’t you come down here and find out?” Shaye cocks her head to the side.
“She’s confident,” the Butcher flipping the dagger says. “We should see if she has such a bold tongue in a few minutes.”
I scan for any sign of Giles. He’s nowhere to be seen. That can only mean he’s taken up some kind of strategic position to help Shaye. After his insistence on staying with her, I know he’s not going to abandon her now.
“Oh, if she does, can I cut it out?” One of the Butchers laughs. “I find that’s sometimes the only way to deal with smart talkers like her.”
“Well, if you’re too intimidated to stop me, I think I’m going to go and have a word with the king.” Shaye shrugs, and starts down the bridge in our direction.
No sooner has she moved than the Butchers launch themselves from their perch. Shaye doesn’t so much as look their way. A giant wall is erected out of nowhere—no doubt Giles’s doing. Shaye puts her back to the initial three Butchers to fling daggers at two others who jump from hidden vantages.
As the fight picks up, the citizenry begins to scatter.
“We should go now,” Raph whispers. I nod, yet I can’t seem to bring myself to move. My eyes are glued to the battle that’s only just beginning. Though I already know how it will end. For as strong as Shaye is, and as clever as Giles can be with his magic…there are only two of them, and a seemingly infinite number of Butchers. All I can hope for is that they’re taken alive and put with the rest of the survivors of Dreamsong.
We’ll save them with the rest. I have to believe it to be true.
Raph tugs on my hand and I can finally force myself to move. We fall into step between two couples rushing away from the combat. We keep our heads down, and miraculously, no one stops us.
We walk until the sounds of battle have faded. I don’t know if they faded because the struggle has ended…or if we are too far to hear it anymore. That’s when I finally gain the courage to look around.
I’m instantly overwhelmed by how…normal it all seems—well, normal by Midscape standards. I had been expecting the High Court to be a place with blood running through the streets and screams hanging in the air. I expected to see people living under a vicious ruler, the threat of bodily harm hiding behind every corner.
But the men and women seem no different than the people of Dreamsong. Away from the chaos and the nightlife of the section of town we entered in on, the streets are quiet. People keep to themselves, heads down and shoulders high, as they march toward wherever it is they’re going this late at night.
The buildings are made with the same style construction as many I saw in Dreamsong. There’s stained glass, and iron lampposts. Most are two or three stories tall and far more condensed than Dreamsong was.
It’s in the comparisons that I slowly draw that I begin to see the darker undercurrents. The construction is so similar that it can’t be by chance. I think of what Giles told me of his people—that the courts of crafters and tradesmen were slowly rounded up by Boltov and assimilated or killed. Or perhaps the houses are even older and date all the way back to Aviness. They are a part of stolen history; their occupants are captives. Even though they’re going about their business, the normality is a shroud—a lie to cover up the constant fear they must live in.
“I don’t like this place,” Raph whispers.
“I don’t either. We’ll do what we came here to do as quickly as possible.” Yet even as I say that, I think of Shaye’s warning. I only have one chance to make it into the castle. I have to wait for the right moment.
We move up the streets, heading for the highest point of the High Court—the castle. As we near I can hear faint music. It makes me all the more aware of how quiet things have been. We emerge onto a main street. Down in one direction, far in the distance, is the main gate of the High Court. In the opposite direction is a large portcullis that protects the opening of the castle.
“So that’s it,” Raph murmurs.
“I hate how pretty it is,” I say under my breath. Spires made of silver are edged with crystal that almost looks like frost. Motes of light drift through the air, circling up the high points, and then out over the city—as if all the magic I saw throughout the fae wilds stems from this one source. Every window is embellished with a frame of carved stone in the shape of lilies and stars. Every balcony railing is adorned with scrollwork. It’s the castle I always saw in my dreams after listening to the storybooks Joyce would read through the door.
