Page 120 of A Dance with the Fae Prince (Married to Magic 2)
“I don’t like this; I don’t like any of it.” He folds his arms.
That’s certainly an understatement. None of this is going as I would’ve hoped. I’m exhausted, pushing my limits; my brain is running out of good ideas. Maybe it ran out a while ago. I guess we’ll find out if Raph is right and this is a terrible idea in the making.
We trail the performers to an inn not far from the castle. As soon as they go inside, I hear the band strike up again and I breathe a sigh of relief. At least they didn’t immediately retreat to their rooms. It will be easier to catch a word with them this way.
I stop Raph. “You’re going to stay here, okay?”
“What?” He blinks several times in shock as he watches me remove the glass pendant from my neck. “You can’t— What’re you—”
“If I don’t come back out, you find a safe way out of here and you go. You take this as far away as you can, you hide it somewhere no one will ever find it.” Guilt and sorrow are companions of desperation as I stare down at the small boy, watching the fate of his people rest on his little shoulders. “Wherever you hide it, you take that secret to your grave. Anyone who could know you have it would do the same—I will do the same. Keep yourself and the magic of Aviness safe.”
“I can’t…” He grabs my hand with both of his. “I can’t do this without you.”
“I hope you won’t have to.” I pat his hands with my other one. “But if things go badly in there, this is the safest way. So promise me you understand what you must do.”
He reluctantly nods. “I understand.”
“Good.” I turn to face off against the inn. Sucking in a deep breath, I march across the narrow street on the exhale. Before I inhale again, I’ve opened the door. There’s no turning back now.
The troupe isn’t so much performing as sitting and strumming together. The first floor of the inn is a tavern, empty at this time of day. I can smell the herbaceous aroma of something slow cooking in the back—the owners no doubt getting a head start on the dinner rush before the sun is even up.
Because it’s so empty, all eyes are on me as soon as I enter. Instruments fall silent. I cross straight for them, weaving around the vacant tables. My eyes meet the man who I assume is the head of the troupe. The man with the raven hair and markings on his brow whom I played with in Dreamsong.
We simply stare at each other for several long seconds. I can tell he recognizes me instantly—I can tell they all do by their demeanor. We’re silently sizing each other up, waiting to see who’s going to act first. The muscles in my legs are tense and ready to run.
“You look weary, traveler.” The leader hooks a chair with his toes and kicks it toward me. “Take a load off.”
“I’ve come a long way.” I sit. “I heard the king has something truly special planned for the end of the autumnal celebrations.”
“Can’t speak for the king, but we’ve heard whispers of the like.” As their leader speaks, the troupe exchanges wary glances. I see the flash of steel as one of them moves. Bards who live on the road would be armed to the teeth.
“Must be nice, having the opportunity to see those celebrations inside the king’s halls.”
“It’s certainly something.” The fact that he doesn’t agree—that none of them have immediately called the Butchers at the sight of me—gives me hope.
“Do you play for royalty often?” I have to be absolutely certain where their loyalties lie. How they can go from playing for the people of Dreamsong to Boltov’s inner circle in a few short days is beyond me. But if I’m to work with them, I need to understand.
“Only when we’re summoned. The king has a good ear for music; he appreciates quality.”
That must be why they’ve been afforded some freedoms. They must’ve cut a deal with the king—or at least reached an understanding. Is what I have to offer enough to sway them from the security they’ve managed to procure?
“Do you think he would appreciate the quality of my playing?”
“As I said, I can’t speak for the king.”
That’s not a no. “It would be an honor to play for the Fae King.”
“Would it now?” He arches his eyebrows.
“I desperately want to get inside the castle.”
“And why is that?”
I bite my lower lip, weighing my next words carefully. “There is something—someone—within his walls that I would very much like to see. But alas, the Butchers keep the place well-guarded and I’m not of high enough standing to gain entry otherwise, so there’s no way I’ll be able to get in on my own.”
“You want to play your way in, is that it?” His directness gives me hope.
“If that’s what it takes.”
