Page 125 of A Dance with the Fae Prince (Married to Magic 2)
Chapter 36
I’m going to die,that’s my first thought. And my second thought is, fight.
I fall backwards, not even caring how I might land, as long as I dodge his attack. But Boltov has fae speed and power. When his first swipe misses, he follows through on his momentum, spinning and dropping down to the ground over me. I roll, amazed his claws don’t find their mark a second time. Then I look up and see why.
Davien looms over us, still glowing and holding Boltov by his wrist. Chaos abounds in the hall; some people are running for the portcullis; some step out of the way and pour themselves fresh glasses of wine to watch the entertainment they were promised.
“For even trying to touch her, I condemn you to death,” Davien snarls. Boltov struggles to break free of his grasp, but can’t.
Butchers are charging from every corner of the hall. “Davien, Butchers!” I shout.
He glances over his shoulder to assess the threat. With his free hand, Davien grabs the glass crown on Boltov’s brow. Boltov screams. There’s a horrible ripping as the crown is freed. I watch as his flesh is sheared from bone in chunks that cling to the crown, as though it had been cemented to Boltov’s head. Davien looks at it in surprise and disgust, before throwing Boltov back into the dais with unnatural force. Boltov’s head cracks against the stone, leaving a trail of blood, and his eyes are dazed. His lids slowly droop closed. Without the crown, he looks like the frail, little man I first saw him as.
“I’ll hold them off.” Davien looks between Raph and I. “You two, find a way to free the others.”
“With pleasure.” I push myself off the ground. Davien doesn’t have time to place the crown on his brow before the Butchers are on him. The head Butcher knocks it from his grasp.
“Davien—”
“Go!” He snarls and lunges for the man who rounded up Dreamsong.
I curse, fighting the urge to stay and help him. “Follow me, Raph.”
Raph is at my side as I begin to run to the doors that Davien was escorted in from. “Where are we going? What about the people above?” I know without seeing that he’s looking up to his father.
“I’m not sure about them yet.” I push a startled courtier aside and right in the way of a lunging Butcher. “They were keeping Davien through these doors, so I can only assume that’s where they’re keeping the stronger, or more dangerous people. We need them.”
“Do we want more dangerous people?” Raph spins out of a Butcher’s grasp. He reaches into his pockets and holds up what looks to be shimmering sand. He blows it out of his palm and it ignites in the air, exploding into millions of tiny sparks—harmless but effective in concealing us escaping through the doors.
“We want dangerous people if they’re our dangerous people,” I whisper. Even though the main hall has erupted into chaos, these passages are quiet and I would be a fool to think that Boltov would leave his prisoners unguarded.
“Oh.” Raph gets it. “Like Vena and Shaye?”
“We can only hope.” The hall continues away, lined by doors that look far too nice to hold prisoners. “Raph, if you were keeping prisoners, where would you put them?”
“In the heart of the hill,” he answers without missing a beat. “Closer to the center where all powers are weak except for the king’s.”
“Then we head down.”
“Wait.” Raph takes my hand. “I doubt this will work, but it’s better than nothing.” He closes his eyes and a look of extreme focus overcomes him. I watch as an image overlays on top of him, slowly condensing into place like water solidifying into ice until it appears solid. Where Raph once stood is one of the Butchers who stopped us by the castle’s portcullis.
“Did you just make us both look like Butchers?”
The illusion laid on top of him nods its head. I have no idea where to look, because I know Raph only came up to my hip. “Again, I doubt it’ll work. Most fae can see past others’ glamours.”
“But it’s better than nothing. You’re brilliant.”
“Just hold my hand. I have an easier time glamouring you as long as I can touch you.”
“Fine with me.”
We start down the hall. At the end it opens into a room. Fortunately, it’s empty, and there’s a staircase that heads both up and down. We take the downward path into another room. It’s in the fourth hall that we see a group of Butchers racing past in the distance. We wait, clinging to the wall and holding our breath. Only one glances our way but doesn’t seem to register us as out of place. Raph’s glamour works.
Down another staircase, the finery of the castle is beginning to disappear and be replaced by what I would expect of the Boltovs. There are rooms designed solely for unsavory delights—the sort that makes me cringe and pass through as quickly as possible. I hold Raph’s hand a little tighter. It’s going to take him some time to process all this once we’re done. But if we succeed, he’ll be able to have that time with both of his parents still alive.
As we’re passing by a door, I hear faint mutterings inside. I halt and press my ear against it, confirming my suspicions.
“What is it?” Raph asks.
