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2
MIA
“Idon’t believe that word means giant beetle dung,” I mutter as we walk out of my room.
“You’d be surprised at the size of fairy beetles and their excrement.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
His eyes twinkle. He’s thrown on a blue shirt that brings out the blue in his hair and the silver lights in his gaze. The fabric of the shirt molds to his strong shoulders and chest and flares at the cuffs, the hem tucked into dark jeans. He looks like asnack. Delicious. “Let’s see if Ashton is in.”
We go into the boys’ dormitories, climb up the stairs. He knocks on the vampire boy’s door, then tries the handle.
“Is it locked?”
He nods, his gaze troubled. “Ash!” he yells. “If you’ve locked yourself up in there, I’ll break this door down before you can say “open sesame”, do you hear me,abesh?”
“I don’t think he’s in,” I whisper, not sure how I’d know that, except that, well, it’s logical that he’d be out.
“And I doubt he’ll be at the party after what happened with his brother.”
“Maybe he’s already gone,” I say, troubled.
And if not, I’ll have to seek him out afterward, see if there’s any news, see if he’s okay.
We climb down the stairs and step back out into the cool, early evening. I’ve thrown my coat over my dress but I still shiver in the crystal air.
Sindri doesn’t seem to feel it. His black boots crunch on dead leaves as we walk under the stars. He’s stalking beside me with a swagger reminiscent of a large predator, the glint of silver on his elegant ears catching the moonlight.
I could get lost in his beauty, his warmth, his embrace. Since when do I need four boys when I can have one—one gorgeous boy interested in me?
But it’s not me he’s interested in, I remind myself. It’s the possibility of magic, of my being a witch, which is what he needs. He believes I can save him and so he’s with me. If he believed Ophelia held the key to his salvation, then he’d be with her right now.
It’s a truly sobering thought.
Is he worried about the other boys? He doesn’t seem to be, no concern apparent in his words or actions. Since Ophelia appeared, he has stuck to my side but apart from that hasn’t said much about the whole Queen-Witch-business.
The party is taking place outdoors, huge bonfires bursting upward, knifing the gathering dark with great golden flames. This is a part of the grounds I don’t think I’ve ever visited and again I have to wonder how big the Academy estate is. Then I realize this is where we found Ashton when he’d begun to shift, these hillocks and depressions in the ground that seem made for bonfires.
Students sit on the summits of the hillocks, around the fires, and some are dancing in the hollows between them. The hillocks look like the dunes on the shore of an ancient sea and the dancing figures seem like sprites coming out of the dark.
“Care to dance?” Sindri says, giving me an old-fashioned bow and offering me his hand as the music reaches us. In the flickering light, he looks like a prince of old, grave and elegant, the starry sky reflected in his eyes. “My lady.”
“I don’t know how,” I say with a laugh and I’m reminded of my first night, my first party, my first dance—alone among the wolves and demons.
“Leave it to me,” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me against him. “Just follow my lead.”
I thought he was joking, but my fae boy is dead serious. The music is a distant beat, barely a melody, as he sweeps me toward the party-goers like a wind, swirling me around, a faint smile on his lips, his hands secure on my back. I feel like I’m floating off the ground, blown away and carried toward the party, my hair swirling around me. I feel dizzy, giddy, spinning like a top, like a child. I laugh as he lifts me off my feet, then sets me down again smoothly until we find ourselves by one of the biggest bonfires.
He releases me, then, takes a step back and bows again, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. “My lady.”
“I didn’t know you could dance like that,” I say, trying to catch my breath.
“Like an old person, you mean?”
“Like a professional.”
“It reminds me of the revels at the palace,” he says, straightening. “We fey like old traditions, old music, old things.”
