Destined for the Fae King (Courts of Faery #3)

Chapter 10

I cling to Vasilius as we shift to a new location. Colors spin and blur. And then, just as suddenly, the pressure around us pops, and the world stops moving. Seconds have passed, but we’re in a completely different place, though we’re likely no too far from the palace.

A roof shields us from the midday sun, but the view spreading out around us is still blinding. Sunlight shimmers off dunes of sand that fill my vision from one edge of my periphery to the other. There’s a literal fae king in front of me, one I’ve dreamed about for years, and yet all I can see is what’s past him.

“The Dune Sea,” I whisper in awe.

The sight pulls me in. I drop his hands and move to the edge of a gazebo of sorts. A railing of pale wood at the edge of the stone platform is all that separates us from the dunes. A strong wind would be enough to brush the sand right over my feet. Finally, I tear myself from the sight and look around.

Vasilius stands with his arms crossed, but he’s still smiling, so me totally ignoring him in favor of the view can’t be too bad of a misstep. Besides, I’m sure he expected some bit of surprise, given that he didn’t even tell me where we were going, and this is… There are few words for it. Stunning? Incredible? Awe inspiring?

The land behind me is sand as far as I can see, but behind the king, I can see this gazebo is at the edge of some large structure. A covered pathway occupied by several fae guards connects us to it. In the center of our structure is a small table set for two, covered platters already at each place setting. A fae male pours a bubbling golden liquid that I’m guessing is wine into two glasses.

“I take it you like the location?” Vasilius lifts one brow.

“It’s incredible.” I glace back again at the Dune Sea, unable to resist its pull. I never thought it would be hard to pay attention to the king during my time with him, but this may put me to the test. Turning back to him, I say, “Thank you for choosing me today, for bringing me here.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you’re pleased.” He holds out a hand to me again. “Shall we dine?”

A weightlessness fills me as I cross the space to him and take his hand. This could be our life, our future. Suddenly, the fact that my uncle somewhat forced me into this doesn’t seem so bad. There are certainly perks, maybe a lifetime of them.

Lunch passes both too quickly and far too slowly. I poke at the food, trying to pretend I’m still eating just to prolong things, but I haven’t actually taken a bite in a while. This should be the part of the meal where awkward get-to-know-you conversation has shifted into something genuine and exciting that leaves my skin tingling with anticipation and the actual meal itself a footnote in an otherwise exquisite date. Or that’s what I’d hoped for.

It must be because I started the conversation wrong, asking Vasilius what he liked to do when he wasn’t busy being a king. I had no idea he was going to spend the whole time regaling me with stories of hunting fae beasts through the wilds of the court .

Oh, I want to be interested, I really do, but I can only hear about slaying various vicious beasts for so long before the meal turns from exquisite to nauseating and it takes everything I have to focus on the words coming out of his mouth. I want to learn about him, truly, but I wanted him to get to know me as well. There’s no back and forth, little time for me to try to jump into the conversation, and every time I manage to get in more than a smile and nod, things boomerang back to where they were with Vasilius telling stories like he’s the one trying to impress me.

Maybe he is? My smile falters just a little at the thought. He’s a king after all. Most people probably just want to hear about him and play to his interests. I should do that, right?

Vasilius wipes at his mouth with all the grace of his title before setting the cloth aside. “So, what do you care to do with your time?”

I blink at him. Me? I almost ask, so surprised by a question finally tossed my way. “I’ve always loved to dance.”

“Ah, a dancer!” He raises his glass and takes a sip. It’s his second, or maybe third, glass, though the fae wine doesn’t seem to have any effect on him.

I wish I could say the same for myself. I was so nervous and excited that I downed half the glass right after I sat, and boy, was that a mistake. The effect was quick, leaving me flushed and my head spinning just a bit. The king’s proximity sure doesn’t help matters. Maybe it is a good thing he’s done most of the talking up until now because I’m really not sure what would have come out of my mouth half an hour ago. Since that first unfortunate sip, I’ve left the wine alone and the food has managed to balance me out a bit.

“Not professionally or anything,” I add. “I loved it though. The way the music just seemed to take control of my body. I took lessons for years and was in a number of local performances, including several where I was the lead. Performing for a crowd was absolutely thrilling.”

It started as a fun hobby. My mom was a beauty pageant queen and wanted the same for me, and you can’t win the big contests without a strong talent. The beauty pageants didn’t stick. They weren’t my thing. But the dancing did, especially after my dad died. It was my sanctuary, a place I could lose myself and forget about being sad for a little while.

I probably shouldn’t have entered so many dance contests. Trying to disappear to Faery if you have any measure of fame or notoriety in the human world? Messy and complicated. It was reason I shied away from the pageants—I already knew I wanted Faery in my future.

“You must have quite the skill then.” The remaining liquid in Vasilius’s glass swirls as he rotates his wrist in little circles.

“I’m sure it’s nothing compared to fae dancers,” I say in a show of modesty. Fae are naturally graceful, and with their longer lifespans, they have plenty of time to develop way more skill than me.

“Well.” He sets down the glass. “I know a way we can find out.”

The suggestion takes a moment to slip past the bit of wine still slowing my thoughts. And in that moment, I want to test it, to see if I still have any skills and if I measure up to the fae.

“You… You want me to dance? As part of a show or something?” I ask.

“I’m afraid I don’t have much of an audience to offer.” He sweeps an arm wide to gesture to the area around us, where only a few guards linger nearby. “I’d like you to dance for me. Consider if more of a private performance. ”

“Oh!” A flush creeps of the base of my neck. He can’t have meant that kind of performance, but leave it to my mind to slip right into the gutter. “Here?”

He arcs a brow. “Why not?”

Dancing after a full meal isn’t ideal, but I can. My clothes aren’t half bad for it, though I’ll have to lose the shoes. A smile breaks across my face as I push up from my chair.

“Why not, indeed?” At least his attention will be on me this time rather than lost in a tale. “I’ll just need a moment to stretch.”

I slip off my shoes and walk toward the open area of the pavilion so that Vasilius will have a good view. There should be enough space for me to dance without knocking into things as long as I stick to the center of the space. No long leaps for me today.

“Of course.” Vasilius slides his chair back from the table and angles it to face me. The look on his face is pure indulgence dripping with intrigue, and gosh, I hope I don’t make a fool of myself. “Please, take your time.”

Moments pass filled only by the whisper of breeze across the dunes and the heavy press of Vasilius’s regard as I move through a series of stretches. Somehow, the idea of dancing before a packed crowd feels infinitely more appealing that this solo performance for an audience of one—or a handful if I count the guards, though their attention isn’t quite so distracting as their king’s.

“Okay.” The one word sounds entirely too loud as I clasp my arms behind me in one final stretch. “A solo performance for you, my king.”

The use of his title has Vasilius’s grin stretching wider. That’s the last thing I notice before I force my focus inward and let my gaze rest on everything and nothing at once. A full orchestra begins to play in my head, the song just as moving as the last time I performed to it a few years ago. And then I’m moving, letting muscle memory lead me in a series of flowing steps, my toes pointed, my arms stretched out to the tips of my fingers.

Growing up, I spent a lot of time with my mother, but I wouldn’t call it quality time. Usually, she was busy hustling me and my brothers to school, dance lessons, a pageant, the boys’ sports matches, or some other appointment. When she wasn’t on the move out and about, she was on the move at home, convinced that the house was never quite clean enough or decorated as well as it should be. There was always something to do, a necessary task to make the house as immaculate as she could, probably to make it appear like we were better off than we were. We were never poor. Not by most people’s standards. But it always felt like she was trying to measure up to prove worthy of being part of a gifted family. Maybe if she worked hard enough, she could truly fit in among the likes of Uncle Matias and Aunt Dalia with their wealth and high-society airs

Despite Mother’s need for perfection in everything and her drive toward that, there was one thing she made time for that we both enjoyed: Dancing with the Stars . We never missed an episode. It was a ritual in our house, almost a religion. Looking back, it’s obvious why I picked dancing as my talent and threw myself into the lessons. I was always impressed with how the best performers seemed oblivious to the millions watching or the way the pros managed to move with such power and finesse.

I try to imitate that now, keeping my chin high and my expression carefully neutral. I feel the beat of the movement in my memories and let it push me along, throwing myself into the movements, keeping them crisp and powerful. After a minute, I can almost forget where I am and who I’m performing for. I’m not in some gazebo dancing for a fae king whose hand I’m desperately trying to win. I’m alone in my parent’s basement with its too-bright lighting and slight musty scent as I twirl across the laminate floor, listening to the music play on my phone where it lays on an old wooden chair. I remain there for the rest of the song, the railing of the gazebo, the table, and my audience of one a hazy presence beyond the one I’ve constructed in my mind.

The music draws near its end. I’m on my knees, head curled down, when the final note blares and I reach up for the sky, my body stretched up as far as I can from the anchor of my knees. I hold the pose, breathing heavily.

A loud, slow clap jerks me back to the moment, the scene and song vanishing almost completely from my mind as I turn my head just slightly to see Vasilius rise to his feet as he continues his applause.

Finally breaking form, I push wayward hairs out of my face and rise before giving him a sweeping, dramatic bow.

“Very good.” His deep voice makes me acutely aware of the sweat now dotting my neck and chest. “It was quite powerful. I could feel the emotion of it even without any music. Very well done indeed.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” My chest swells with pride at his admiration. And it’s not false praise. It can’t be given, that fae cannot outright lie. If my performance had been horrible, he wouldn’t be able to claim it otherwise.

Vasilius holds out a hand to me, and I cross the space between us and take it. Strong fingers curl around mine before he draws it to his lips and places a kiss upon its back. That act, his warm lips on my skin, sends a jolt straight to my heart that slides downward, settling low in my abdomen.

“I may have to arrange a show after all,” he says. “Perhaps you’d enjoy performing with some of my dancers? ”

“I’m not sure you’d find my skills so appealing then.” I lower my eyes. Side by side with the fae? There’s no way I’d be seen as anything but clumsy and awkward, especially since I’m sure we’d be using their music.

A soft laugh fills the air between us as he lets go of my hand. “Give me some credit, Mira. I believe I am a decent judge of skill. Besides, I wouldn’t want to see any of my potential brides, or any of our human guests, shamed before the court. What good could come of it?”

He has a point there. “Maybe some time,” I concede. “If you think you would enjoy it.”

“I believe I would, if only to see you dance again.”

The richness of his voice does something to my insides, leaving me awash in a sea of feelings and my knees a little weak. I’ll definitely dance for him again if it earns me another reaction like that.

“Unfortunately, it will have to be another time,” he continues. “There is something that requires my attention, but I thank you for sharing this meal and for the performance.”

“Of course, you must be very busy,” I say, trying to hide my disappointment. “You’ll be taking me back, then?”

He shakes his head and my shoulders droop in response. “My guards will shift you back.”

Vasilius gestures to them and two advance.

I guess that’s it then. “Thank you for a lovely meal and for choosing me to spend it with.” I dip into a low curtsy and rise, expecting… I don’t know what. But Vasilius is still just standing there, a mildly pleasant expression on his face.

“I’ll just get my shoes… ”

Get your shoes? I chastise myself as I turn and practically flee to where I left them next to my chair. Great way to end the date, Mira, just great.