“We’ve heard rumors that you’re a dreamer, King Thaddeus,” Fiora said, the sound of her voice like wildflower honey melting off a spoon into a fresh cup of tea.
“He is,” I said. “Since we were children, he would imagine the most fantastical things and conjure unbelievable tales.” I smiled up at the king sweetly, as if in reverence for those moments. The moments that never existed, but the ones we had to make them believe—lest our cover story be ripped apart.
It was surprising how easily the lies bloomed from within me.
The king’s features softened as he looked at me and caressed my face with a soft stroke. “She has always been the one to animate my dreams.” I had to stop myself from looking surprised. Those words were true for him. I was, in fact, the key to dreams that had spanned centuries.
“I suppose, then, it requires both a dreamer and a believer for magic to become a reality,” Myron said. “Maybe it’s the pairing that made this reunion possible.”
“That’s beautiful, my darling,” Fiora said, rising to her tiptoes before pressing a soft kiss against the high lord’s clean-shaven cheek without a thought, like she’d done it countless times before.
“Are you married?” The curious words tumbled out of me before I thought better of it.
Myron smiled. “The fae don’t marry in the same way humans do, but yes, we are bound to one another. Can you not tell?”
I looked at the two of them more carefully. There were no wedding bands, no markings that distinguished such a thing, and yet, I could tell. They had their individuality, but there was also a subtle energy interwoven between the two of them that seemed incontinual movement. Like their auras were constantly courting one another. Was that the dance of love between two souls?
As a simple human woman, though, I shouldn’t be able to see such things. I schooled my features to hide the wonder and genuine curiosity of it all before saying, “In the human lands, we have rings that indicate such unions.” I made a point of looking at their hands, which were devoid of any such adornments.
“Our binding is one of magic. It’s curious that those who believe cannot see,” Myron said.
“Darling, it’s been over five hundred years—you can’t expect them to see things the way we do,” Fiora said kindly.
“Were we able to see such things before?” I countered.
“Truthfully, I’m not certain. That was before my time.” Myron seemed to think over what my question implied.
“If I’m honest, I’d assumed you were married—bound,” I corrected, “but your titles gave me pause.”
“Oh?” Myron asked with raised brows, not quite understanding my meaning.
“Well, if King Thaddeus were to marry, his wife would take on the title of queen.” I looked to the king, who nodded in confirmation. “I had thought the same applied here, that if the two of you were bound, that Lady Fiora would be a high lady, by right and title, if not by honorific.”
“Oh, I like her,” Fiora said to her high lord with an enduringly sweet smile.
Myron chuckled as he took in Fiora, then shifted his attention to me. “Very observant, Nyleeria, but no, there is no such thing as a high lady among the fae. High lord is a birthright and is passed down as such. The powers we possess, the land we are connected to, the fae we rule—they are all the blood right of a high lord, paternally propagated, but bestowed upon us by the Mother herself.”
“Interesting,” the king said with curiosity. “Has it always been so?”
“As far as our written histories recount, yes,” Myron answered.
A fae whispered something into Fiora’s ear, and her violet eyes glittered with excited delight as she faced Myron. “The orchestra is about to perform our favorite melodia.”
Without waiting for a response, the lady of the Spring Court took my hand in hers and led the four of us to the dance floor.
We gathered with other pairs, the four of us facing each other as if readying for a square dance. I soon learned it was nothing like the traditional dance I’d practiced. The pairs broke apart, allowing couples to flourish, before returning to the classical box formation.
The dance’s intricacies reminded me of a card game that the same group had played for so long that, when a newcomer joined, they could know the rules of the original game but had yet to be versed in the new and evolved version. Sure, it was more fun, but the learning curve was steep.
I was grateful to be the female counterpart, only needing to follow Myron’s lead. The king moved flawlessly with Fiora, a skill that baffled me. Then again, if Myron wasn’t old enough to have met humans before the war, that meant the king was older than him. Perhaps that was how he knew the dance well enough to make it look effortless.
The thought jarred me, but I quickly set it aside, content to pretend the king was only as old as he looked. Stars, thatallof them were as old as they looked. I was literally the only mortal at this event—gods, in this realm. I stopped myself from pulling any further on that thread.There were some elements in my life where denial was key, and this was most definitely one of them. It might not be the healthiest way to cope, but I refused to dwell on the thought either.
“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” Myron asked, bringing me back to the present.
“Nothing worthy of regaling you with, I’m afraid. I’m just taking in this new world, trying to reconcile it all,” I said in earnest.
“I can imagine. I have to say, you’re taking it with great poise.”
