Franco flies us toward the courtyard nearest the palace, which bustles with activity. Every inch of space is filled with chatting guests. Our momentum slows, and I hear several gasps and exclamations come from below. Franco lowers us down and lands us softly at the center of the clearing at the base of a moonstone fountain. He sets me on my feet, and I straighten my skirts. My stomach ripples with anxiety as hundreds of eyes pin us beneath their scrutiny. I’m surprised Franco landed us here at all. Surely, he’d prefer a more secluded portion of the gardens to start off in. For someone who doesn’t like being the center of attention, he sure chose the absolute worst possible place.
That’s when I realize how stiff his posture has become, the way he fidgets with his hands, alternating between shoving them in his pockets and straightening the hem of his jacket. Gone is the witty, confident prince, the arrogant, lazy male. Left in his place is someone who’s on the brink of seizing up.
Slowly, I step closer to him until our sides are nearly pressed together. I reach for him, seeking out the feel of his hand. He lets me take it, and I give it a squeeze, our fingers hidden within the many folds of my skirt.
His chest heaves and I watch him blow out a heavy breath. Then, little by little, his shoulders relax. His expression softens. A smile warms his face as he scans the courtyard from one side to the other. Finally, he returns the squeeze of my hand, brushing his thumb over my palm before stepping away from me.
He climbs up to the ledge of the fountain and addresses the crowd. “Thank you, people of Lunar, for attending tonight’s Full Moon Frolic.” His voice comes out stiff, quiet. I see him take another deep breath. Another. “Tonight, my kind—the unseelie fae—celebrate the full moon. This phase of the moon represents completion, clarity, and illumination. It is a time for forgiveness, gratitude, and celebration. Of rebirth, renewal, and reassessment.”
He pauses, scanning the crowd again. His gaze lands on me, and his smile grows brighter. Finally, the confident version of him begins to shine through. His voice grows stronger. Bolder. “Tonight, I see the full moon as a time of unity and wholeness, which is why I chose to infuse some of Lunar’s unseelie beauty into the Full Moon Frolic, to share with you a piece of me, of who I really am. You don’t have to celebrate the same way I do, and I don’t have to dance the same way you do for us to be unified. And weareunified. You may be more familiar with your seelie king, as that is how our isle is structured. But most of you attending tonight are not from the south near the seat of his influence, but here in the north. You may owe your allegiance to a fae in the south, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have an advocate in the north. We may be different races and standing in separate political spheres, but we are still one people—people of Faerwyvae. And I want to be the prince you need.”
The crowd rumbles with polite applause. I study the sea of people in their exquisite glamoured evening attire, their unmasked faces. Some are brimming with delight while others appear bored.
“Join me,” Franco says, “and let the Full Moon Frolic commence.”
Another wave of applause and Franco jumps down from the fountain ledge to stand at my side. The people break into chatter. “For the love of the night, I’m going to be sick,” he says under his breath.
“That was great,” I whisper. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“That I was great? Or that I made a speech?”
“The latter. Of course you were great. That’s not a surprise.”
“Was it stupid? Did everyone hate it?”
I consider lying but instead deliver the truth. “Some people truly enjoyed your words. It’s a start. Not everyone is here for genuine connection and unity with the fae. Some are just here to rub elbows with the elite and dance.”
“Speaking of dancing,” he says, extending his arm. “Are you ready to open the ball with me?”
My heart leaps into my throat. I take a step back. “Open the ball? You mean todance?”
He laughs at my reaction. “What else were you expecting to do at a ball?”
Breezes, I don’t know what I was expecting but it certainly wasn’t dancing. Franco didn’t dance at all at the New Moon Masquerade—no. The man I thought was the prince that night hadn’t been him at all. That was Augie and Franco was the fat raven.
His brow furrows with concern. “What’s wrong, Em?”
I lower my voice. “I’ve never danced before. Not with a man. I…I was never allowed to practice the formal dances. Not after…after Father died.”
He takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. It’s the same thing I did for him before his speech. The warmth of his fingers steadies me. “You don’t need to know anything about formal dances to do what we’re about to do.”
I swallow hard. “Somehow, that sounds far more terrifying.”
“I promise you’ll be fine.” He squeezes my hand again, then places it in the crook of his arm. “Are you ready?”
“No,” I mutter, but I make no argument as we begin to walk. He turns us toward one of the paths that branches off from the courtyard. As soon as we take a step onto the path, a bright orange light illuminates on each side, high above the tall hedges that flank us. Three more steps, and another illumination. I glance up and study the lights, surprised when I find they’re tiny flaming figures. Fire sprites. We continue to walk, and more appear, lighting the way and eliciting gasps from those who follow behind us. Soon, the smell of night blooming jasmine grows heavy in the air. It takes me a moment to realize it’s coming from the green dome straight ahead. Our path ends at the dome’s arched entryway.
Franco leads us toward it. As soon as we clear the door, a gasp escapes my lips. I’m so enchanted by what I see, I nearly lose my footing. The dome is as large as the ballroom had been, but instead of moonstone walls, its structure appears to be a domed trellis woven with trailing jasmine. The scent fills the space with its heady aroma, and I breathe it in deeply. The floor is of thick, plush grass, while the perimeter is lined with tables and chairs interspersed amongst clusters of pink, blue, and purple bioluminescent mushrooms that give the space a dazzling glow. Closer to the center stands a circle of slim trees that look as if they’ve been carved from opal. They extend their pale, elegant branches toward the top of the dome. Wisps bob and swirl overhead, bathing the ceiling in blue. An open hole at the center of the ceiling lets in a shaft of pale white moonlight that illuminates the space inside the ring of trees.
We head for this bright spot of light. That’s when I hear the first beat of a drum.
It begins as a deep, steady rhythm that rumbles inside my bones. I glance around for the source and find a band set up at the base of one of the opal trees. The drums continue to beat, echoing the pounding of my heart. Then comes the first notes of a fiddle, a light, unfamiliar melody that sparks fire in my pulse.
Franco and I stop when we reach the center of the shaft of light, while the crowd fans out around us, closer to the trees. Excited gasps and whispers rumble amongst the guests. I don’t blame them. This is the most spectacular setting I’ve ever witnessed for a ball. For anything.
And I’m standing at the center of it.
Sweat beads behind my neck as Franco turns to face me. “Might I have this dance?”
