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I thanked mylucky stars that Blackbird had gotten kidnapped with us because the feast was amazing. Feeling like I hadn’t eaten for days, I stuffed myself. The gremlins happily followed Blackbird’s directions, bringing in platter after platter of excellent meats and vegetables.
“Where did all the food come from?” I asked her. She sat between me and Fafnir—a thoughtful positioning on her part.
“The gremlins can conjure more than hot chocolate. You just have to know what to ask for. I think the wizard simply had no idea.”
“He was never a very good wizard.” Fafnir leaned over to address me. “That’s why we negotiated a temporary peace treaty with General Falcon. Once I saw what you could do at the Plain of No Trees and then the Debacle of the Sirens—” he shook his head in admiration, “—I figured we’d better destroy you or recruit you.”
“So you had Walter send the dragons to grab me on the Promontory of Magic?”
“It was worth a shot. I didn’t expect it to work.”
“So, Walter and the duel was the second attempt?”
Fafnir toasted me with his flagon and winked. “I bet on you.”
Poor Walt.
“I didn’t know about the peace treaty.” But it did explain why Falcon hadn’t summoned me and Rogue. A bit of luck, there. Or the magic, taking care of me.
Fafnir poured himself more wine. “Temporary. We can get the war going again as soon as tomorrow if you’d like to come over to our side.”
“I’m afraid I’ve sworn service to General Falcon.”
“Aha! But you’re not with him now. Why is that, I wonder?”
I really didn’t care to explain the whole sabbatical Rogue had wrangled for me. So we could go on our quest. My heart cramped a little, remembering how he’d looked with Titania. Was he under a spell? Faking it? Maybe he’d been faking it with me. I really wanted to look into the crystal globe again, and the strength of that desire bothered me. I could see how that thing would be addictive.
“Would you care to dance, Lady Sorceress Gwynn?” Fafnir rose and came to stand by my chair.
“Excuse me?”
He laughed and swept a distinguished bow. “Grace me with a dance at least, if you won’t join my army.”
The fae musicians had struck up a sort of waltz on the dance floor below. Walter’s ballroom was ironically much smaller than the throne hall. We all sat at tables on a raised dais that let us observe the dancers from above. Darling—I mean Darling Hercules—had already expressed his intention to help the dancing along with his anesthetic skills and the brightly colored couples, threesomes, foursomes and more whirled along in various enthusiastic tangles to the racing rhythm.
I did not want to dance. And not just because it was Fafnir asking. Though what I knew about him seemed so at odds with his demeanor. At least I understood why Cecily had believed she loved him. Somewhere in my own foolish heart, I’d imagined dancing at something like this in Rogue’s arms. A silly fantasy I couldn’t afford, especially not with Blackbird giving me a warning look.
Besides, I’d wanted a closer look inside Fafnir’s head, didn’t I?
“I’d be delighted, Lord Fafnir.” I smiled and offered my hand. “Though I’m afraid I don’t know the dances.”
He kissed my hand with the barest brush of his lips, a studiously polite touch. “Then I shall teach you. Don’t worry.” His eyes went to the lily earrings I’d put back on. I’d made myself a blue gown to match, in a fit of nostalgia. “I shall observe Lord Rogue’s claim to you.”
He led me onto the dance floor, which allowed me to refrain from commenting, and proceeded to show me the steps, which were intricate but repetitive. Rather like learning the newest line dance—once you got over the hump of the initial gimmick, the rest pretty much fell into place. Fafnir patiently explained, demonstrated and then started us out on slow turns. He made an excellent partner too, considerate of his much greater height and length of stride, adjusting his steps so I could easily match them.
“Lord Rogue is exceedingly lucky in having you for a consort. But then that bastard always has had the devil’s own luck.”
“And you, Lord Fafnir. Have you a consort?” I tried to keep the question innocent and neutral. Pain flashed through him, sharp, quickly hidden.
“Not at present, no.”
I felt mean prodding him and reminded myself of poor Cecily’s awful demise at his hands. “But you have had?”
“Certainly. Apologies to you, lady, but as long-lived as we are, we enjoy many consorts through our lives. Rarely are they as scintillating as you, however.”
The man would have to be a skilled diplomat, expert at ducking sensitive issues. All of his thoughts that I could read, like his manners, flowed in a seamlessly polite and gracious order. If it hadn’t been for that flash of pain, I would have started to think I had the wrong guy, despite the name.
