Page 119 of A Dance with the Fae Prince (Married to Magic 2)
“It’s pretty ’cause Boltov didn’t build it.”
“I figured as much.”
“Mom would tell me stories of Aviness when I was little. She’d say the castle, the hill, the glass crown, and the fae people are all one. As long as one stands tall, so do the others. And that’s why the glass crown can control the fae, and why it can’t leave the High Court.”
I crouch down and lean against a wall, listening to him. We perch ourselves at the edge of where the narrow road meets the main one, the castle in view.
“Did your mom’s stories have any tips for how we might get inside?” I ask, trying to keep my focus on him and our mission rather than the music drifting through the portcullis.
“Of course not. Stories don’t really tell you that.”
“Yeah, they’re pretty useless,” I mutter. “The stories of the fae from my world haven’t really done me much good here.” I close my eyes and listen to the tune as it reaches its end. At first, I thought I was so focused on it because it had been a few days since I last heard music—that wasn’t the magical sort. But the more I hear, the more I begin to think I recognize it. “That song… I know it.”
“Do you?” Raph arches his eyebrows.
I push off the wall. “I’m pretty sure I do.”
“It’s coming from inside the castle, right?”
“I think so.” I bring my thumb to my mouth and bite on the nail lightly. “I want to wait here for a bit.”
“What are we waiting for?”
“I want to see if we can figure out who’s playing that music.” I keep my eyes focused on the portcullis, ignoring the four Butchers lined up on either side.
“Do you want to get closer?” Raph shifts from foot to foot, as if already restless.
“No, we stay here until it seems unsafe or unwise to do so.” I make sure my words are firm and leave no room to be contradicted. One shot. That’s all we have. I have to be patient and take it when the time is right.
The music plays on through the night. The longer I listen, the more certain I am that I’ve heard it before. It’s not just the tune, or the melody, or even the unique harmonies—what I cling to is a unique rendering of those notes. Music is like painting. Artists can use the same medium, but no two people will create in the same way.
As dawn begins to streak across the sky, the portcullis finally opens. I stand. Raph pushes away from the wall as well. He grabs for my hand, clutching it tightly as we watch people stream from the castle.
They stagger into the early morning, clinging to each other and swaying. I watch the macabre parade stroll down the main street, fanning out into alleyways, and disappearing into the lavish homes that line the main run of the High Court.
These fae aren’t like the others we saw in the lower rungs of the city. They’re dressed in sumptuous clothes—silks and scandalously transparent chiffons with cuts that leave very little to the imagination.
Gold and jewels weigh them down, circling every finger and neck. The finery is even draped from their horns and wings, tied with ribbons and small chimes that sing as they move. These people float through the world as though they own it, as though they don’t have care.
“Look,” Raph whispers. “Their feet…”
Their gilded presentation is merely a distraction, I realize. Their hems and boots are bloody. I see crimson splatter on men’s waistcoats.
“You don’t think that’s from—”
“Don’t even think it.” I pull Raph a little closer to me. “We’re going to help them, and stop all this forever, I swear to you, Raph. I will stop this.” I look back to the portcullis in time to see the music troupe emerging. Sure enough, I recognize them. “Those are the players from Dreamsong,” I breathe.
“What?” Raph looks as well. “Those traitors,” he snarls. “How dare they—”
“Stop.” I clutch him tighter before he can run off in a just rage. Kneeling down, I look him right in the eyes. “You have to keep your wits about you now and think through every action. Will you do that for me?” Raph swallows hard and nods several times. “Good. Now, tell me, can you play any instruments?”
“The drums, a little.”
“The drums it is. Come with me.”
“What are we doing?” He stays at my side even though he is clearly uncertain about what has prompted me to march along the main street.
“I’m going to talk to them.”
