“Promise him nothing,” Dugan whispered as I stood. I glanced back at him. His expression was that of bored apathy as he observed the festivities around him, but his whispered words had sounded anything but apathetic. I got the feeling he didn’t like this any more than I did.
“One dance,” I said, finally taking the king’s hand.
The skin on his fingers was hot. Too hot for comfort, even through the material of my gloves. A moment of shock registered on his face, and he dropped my hand, his brows furrowing.
“Typically it takes years inside a court for its magic to begin reshaping a fae, but you are quite icy,” he said.
I said nothing. I knew it wasn’t winter that chilled my skin, but my contact with other planes, the ones dealing with souls and the dead in particular.
“This should be better,” the king said, holding out his hand again. This time, when I took it, his skin was only pleasantly warm, not burning.
He beamed at me, his smile radiant, enchanting. As he took me in his arms and we began moving to the music, it was like I could smell the sunshine, taste the flowers, and feel the music. I felt warmer, as if the summer was seeping into me, chasing away the chill of the grave that clung to me far too often. It’s a glamour. Even knowing it wasn’t real, I felt myself relaxing into it, effortlessly following the king in his dance as the music filled the field around us.
He lifted me in the air, spinning us both, and the sound of merriment grew distant. By the time my boots hit the grass again, it was to silence. I blinked, pushing a step back from the king. I could still see the field of revelers, but I couldn’t hear them anymore. In the distance, I could see the long table where I’d been sitting, and by the way Falin and Dugan both shot to their feet, alarm evident on their features, something was wrong.
I rushed forward, intending to head back to the table, but several hurried steps took me no closer. I whirled around. The king was still one step behind me, exactly where I’d left him when I stepped out of his arms. He watched me, his posture casual, approachable.
I glared at him. “What’s going on?”
“A little privacy, for a conversation.”
I glanced around. In the grass in front of me grew a line of toadstools. No, not a line, a curve, and following it with my eyes, I realized it formed a large circle. I was in a mushroom ring.
“Let me out. You promised me safe passage while in your court.”
The king continued to smile. “And you are perfectly safe. As I said, this is just a little privacy. I have a delicate matter I wish to discuss.”
Falin and Dugan were moving now, their eyes scanning the field. Dugan’s hand rested on his sword hilt. Falin’s hands were at his sides, but I had no doubt he would have a weapon in a heartbeat if he needed it. I could see them clearly, but by the way they were systematically searching, I knew they could not see me.
“You are distressing my escorts.” I didn’t mention that I wasn’t feeling so calm myself.
“They will be fine. I just want a short conversation.” He held out a hand to me, beckoning me to follow him. There was what looked like a tent crafted from an enormous upside-down flower in the center of the mushroom ring.
I crossed my arms over my chest, not moving. “I thought you just wanted a single dance?”
“I am a man of many desires.”
I snorted.
“Hear me out. That is all I’m asking for.” He stepped over to the tent, peeling back one large petal to reveal a small room beyond.
“And after the conversation? What will you be asking for then?”
He pressed a hand over his chest. “Your suspicion wounds me.”
I glared at him. He stepped inside the flower tent. I could see a small table just past the petal-flap, two fluted glasses filled with pink pixie brandy set on it. He lifted one between two fingers and held it out toward me.
“Have a drink with me.”
“So now it is a conversation and a drink?”
He frowned. “You are making this difficult.”
I resisted the urge to tell him that his difficulties weren’t my issue, but that might push him too far. He was the king and I was in his court. I opened my