Page 5 of How to Marry a Winged King

The shoes did more than just dazzle. I touched my ears wonderingly. They still felt round, but in the mirror, they were pointed. The face in the mirror was a stranger’s, a fantastical high sidhe beauty rather than my own human ordinariness.

I had the sudden urge to smash the mirror to smithereens. Instead, I turned away, ripping off the shoes and throwing them back on the bed. They lay next to the dress, mask, and invitation, the items horribly, terrifyingly tempting. With them, a human girl could go where she ought not. She could finally join the dance instead of just watching, invisible and yearning.

Did I dare? If anyone discovered the ruse, my stepfamily would be furious, and the fae court might be more than furious. Humans are forbidden at the Golden Hall. I didn’t know what the punishment might be for breaking that. Was the risk worth it? What if I ruined Acantha’s chances of marrying royalty?

The king will never know she exists. Acantha’s own words echoed in my ears.

I shrugged out of my clothes, telling myself I was just trying on the dress. Just to see. I hadn’t done anything I couldn’t take back, yet.

The dress was midnight green, darkly iridescent as a tūī, with silver beading up its front and feathers worked into the design at the neckline. The mask was black and smooth, also decorated with shining tūī feathers. There were no ribbons to attach it with.

Heart beating too fast, I held the mask up to my face in the mirror. Despite half-expecting it, I still nearly dropped it as it underwent the same disconcerting personalisation as the shoes. When I took my hand away, the fit was now so perfect that it held firmly in place even without a ribbon.

I examined my face again. The mask hid half of the stranger’s face, but the bits showing still looked high sidhe.

I considered my hair uncertainly and then let it out of its tight braid. It fell in a dark brown wave halfway down my back. The shoes’ enchantment somehow managed to make this look glamorous and interesting rather than untidy.

I twisted this way and that in front of the mirror, but the illusion was flawless. I looked every inch an elegant fae lady, just as much a proper scion of the twelve houses as my sisters.

Transportation will be provided, the tūī’s note had read. I wondered what that meant.

My heart hammered as I crept down through the quiet house, but none of the house brownies stirred. Outside, the moon had risen, and I saw the transportation: a gleaming carriage pulled by a white stag.

We eyed each other in the moonlight. Or at least, I eyed him, and he stood there silently waiting for me to get in, keeping so still he might have been carved of moonlight. Not even the gravel shifted beneath his hooves.

Maybe I could sneak into the edges of the ball, and if the illusion didn’t seem to hold, I could come away again, having at least enjoyed a glimpse of it. It seemed a shame to let the efforts of the tūī go to waste. How had he managed this?

“Hello,” I said to the stag.

He turned his head with slow dignity. Was I going to get in or not?

I got in.

FIRST NIGHT

I HAD SEEN THE Golden Hall only at a distance before, the yellow-tiled roofs of its tallest towers rising above the canopy in bursts of colour. At ground level, its organic form blended with the forest, so that one moment we were travelling through untamed bush and the next I was standing looking up at the two great tree trunks that merged into the arch of the entrance gate.

My hands trembled as I showed my invitation, but the guards let me through without challenge, and I was abruptly here, on forbidden ground. I’d done it. The thrilling, terrifying excitement of that froze me silly until someone hmphed behind me and I hurried to get out of the way of the next guest.

The great ballroom lay open to the stars and was bordered by gnarled, twining kōwhai trees, their golden flowers in full bloom. Small fae creatures perched in their boughs, and I looked for Golden among them without success. Perhaps he was in the crowd? Maybe he wasn’t always a bird? He certainly wasn’t the wyrling I’d assumed. I’d heard it was possible for a powerful fae to shape-change. I’d never met one that could before, but Golden’s magic was certainly powerful, because fae lords and ladies dipped their heads in acknowledgment as I passed, accepting me as one of them.

Lively music came from a band of green-skinned nymphs, the kind of tune that teased your feet to move with the beat. Giddiness filled me, and I moved closer, irresistibly drawn by the sound. I could dance all night if I wanted, or at least until close to dawn—hours and hours away.

I spotted my stepsisters on the dance floor and hastily huddled back toward the edges of the room. The twisting yearning that had driven me here wavered.

“—yes, I have only the two daughters.” I heard Lady Bloodthorn’s voice nearby.

I froze and slowly turned my head. My stepmother stood talking to a fae with gossamer dragonfly wings.

“I had heard you kept a human changeling in your household?” the fae asked in a tone of honeyed poison. They looked to belong to House Sweetgrass.

Lady Bloodthorn gave an awkward titter. “Who doesn’t?”

“We do not let humans in the house,” the Sweetgrass fae said contemptuously. “Lavender has been most carefully raised.” They nodded towards one of the dancers, presumably the scion of House Sweetgrass who they hoped would win the hand of the king.

Lady Bloodthorn’s smile was cold. “My own daughters do not find one mortal changeling a trial. Of course I understand those of particularly delicate natures may require more tender protection.”

The Sweetgrass fae smiled with equal chill. “How quaint of you. Does the king know your daughters enjoy playing with a mortal sibling?”