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But they weren’t. They weren’t moving. I was fine. I was fine.
I took a long slow breath in, and it was enough to take the edge off of my panic. The scent wasn’t right. It didn’t smell of dirt or dampness, but there was a fresh breeze that smelled clean and calming. It took me a second to identify the various smells, but—lavender—that was the calming part. And there was some sage, too.
I liked sage. Sage meant cleansing, and I didn’t mind that, especially when I was willingly walking into a fey court.
Once I gave myself a second to actually take in my surroundings, I knew my first assessment of the court wasn’t right at all. This wasn’t a cave. It was so much more than that. The floor was smooth and even, like someone had taken a blowtorch to the sand, turning the top layer into glass. Underneath, the sand pressed up against the glossy surface. It had a beautiful perfection to it, and I knew that no matter how hard I tried, I wouldn’t be able to re-create it in my art.
Whatever the material was, it was magic.
The floors curved up to meet the walls, and the ceiling arced high overhead. Torches along the walls were lit every three feet, flaring to life as we stepped down the wide hall. The breeze flickered the flames, and I glanced to the sides. There weren’t any doors along the hall, but it was leading somewhere. But where?
The hallway was just wide enough for the fey guards to keep walking two-by-two. I couldn’t see what was beyond them, and unless something changed, there was going to be no way for me to escape.
A bitter smoke with sweet overtones, like stale apples, rolled up the hallway, burning my nose and eliminating the lingering sage from the air. With each step we took, the scent grew stronger.
I sneezed and one of the fey in front looked over her shoulder and laughed. They knew what they were doing. Scent was one of the main advantages I had. It was almost like another form of sight, and that smoke was blinding me. It made me uncomfortable and uncertain. Although I was uncertain for a lot of reasons.
The line of fey in front of me parted, revealing a room. It was filled with low round tables, surrounded by rings of multicolored pillows. Silk-covered lamps hung from the ceilings, casting a dull, multicolored glow over everything. There were no sounds coming from the crowded room, but I could see two small groups of musicians performing between the tables, dancers moving around the room, along with people playing some sort of betting game that involved a lot of animated yelling and glittering, glowing golden coins. Yet, the only thing I could hear was the faint rustling of the guards’ clothes. I couldn’t even smell the food from the platters that covered every table, and I didn’t think that was only because of the smoke.
This was it. I was about to be severely outnumbered by a room full of fey. I gave myself a few seconds to be scared.
One.
Two.
Three.
And then I shoved it away because being afraid of the fey when I needed their help would do me no good. It was a useless emotion right now.
The fey woman slid past me, giving me a grin over her shoulder as she moved closer to the busy room. “It’d be best if you did not discuss what you see here.” She shrugged. “Although if you did, you’d make my job so much more fun.”
“And what’s your job?”
She spun to face me. “Killing you.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. She’d made no move against me yet, but if she did, I’d defend myself.
She was quiet for a little longer than I was comfortable with. “If you get out of line.”
“I’ll do my best to stay in line. Especially if you tell me where the line is.”
“We’ve been over this. I don’t like to make things easy. Especially when power is up for grabs.” She spun back to face the room. “Come and be welcome.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the other sounds came. Clanking of plates. The yelling and betting. Laughing and music and dancers’ steps. More scents came, too, but all dulled by the too-sweet smoke.
The rest of the guards dispersed into the room, but the fey woman motioned for me to follow her.
She walked to one of the few empty low tables, and sat on one of the surrounding pillows. Yanking down her hood, she tossed her mask on the table. The others had faded into the crowd, masks gone and I could only spot them by their loose white pants and shirts. They were the only things in room not brightly colored.
The fey woman motioned to a servant in a corner, who rushed over. She said a few quick words in what sounded similar to the language I’d heard Cosette use with Van sometimes, but I could’ve been wrong. Did the fey have different dialects?
A second later a bowl of rose-scented water and a towel appeared in the servant’s hands.
The fey woman nodded, and then turned to me. “Wash your hands. It’s not polite to be dirty while dining.”
I raised an eyebrow. It’d been a while since I’d been considered a child, but even when I was younger, my parents didn’t care much about that kind of thing. My father was too busy beating the shit out of me to care about a little dirt. But still, I took the bowl, happy to rid myself of some of the sand. I dipped the small towel into the copper bowl, and hoped it wouldn’t offend anyone if I wiped off my face first.
The fey woman grinned. “Much better. You’re quite handsome, although I didn’t mind the dirt exactly.”
