The music swells inside my lungs like sweet, intoxicating air. I let it guide my body across the ground, forcing my thoughts to be silent.

The only way I'm surviving this is to stop thinking and just dance.

It's strange to admit, but as the melody builds so does my enjoyment. Am I actually having a good time twirling around like a lunatic?

I realize my eyes are closed when I stumble into someone. It's a female faery, one of the aristocrats, and she's smiling at me encouragingly, gently guiding me back into the half-circle so I can keep dancing. After my contact with her, other faeries start to show their support by clapping with the beat. I even notice a few of them swaying back and forth like they want to join in with me.

Making my way around the edge of the crowd, I grab hands with one of these faeries and pull him into the middle. His eyes widen in surprise, and then crinkle up as he laughs, stomping his feet and doing a little jig. More faeries are braving the chance to dance in the circle. 

I know it's dumb how giddy I am that I turned a stoic group of statues into a faery mosh pit. But I'm too busy dancing to care about much of anything.

That is, until I feel a cold hand clamp around my wrist and spin me around. I expect to see King Naoise, but instead I'm met by Orla's gray stare and unreadable expression. My feet stop moving and we stand there surrounded by the shifting crowd. I close off the noise of the dancers and the music in a back cupboard of my mind in order to hear what Orla's face is telling me.

No matter how well I do with these tasks, the King is not going to let me win.

Our wordless moment is swept away as a male faery takes my hand and starts to dance with me. The jubilation in his face, or in the passionate musicians still creating such breathtaking music, is lost in Orla's warning. I turn to see where she went, but she already melted back into the crowd. I don't need to see those eyes again for their chill to rattle my heart.

<<————>>

The melody is still ringing in my ears long after it stopped. I guess the King let his subjects have their fun before he made Orla move us along to the next task. So we all group back into the chariots and ride up to the grassy area in front of the castle.

I scan the place where I last saw Darren, but all that's left of the mortal boys is the wooden platform they were building this morning. The late afternoon sun is taking on a fiery glow, like a blooming tiger lily against a backdrop of soft blue sky. An ominous reminder of the fading daylight hours. Then Samhain will be over.

When my chariot stops, the guards lead me over to the platform where the Orla is standing waiting for me. There's a malicious bite in her words as she says, "Well done, mortal girl. You hid your poor dance skills behind a crowd before anyone could notice the truth. Let's see you try and hide now."

She breathes the words into my ear and then disappears with the guards and leaves me on the stage, staring out into the expecting eyes of the royal faeries.

When the musicians skirt their way around me and into the corner of the platform, I know what the third task will be. Singing.

As I clear my throat, I want to tuck my shaking hands under my arms or at least sit down to keep my knees from knocking together. But then I catch the King's condescending glare and I lift my chin, resting my hands beside me and filling my chest with air. With the blazing sun settling behind me, I'm glad my dress is intensely red in order to keep everyone's attention.

If they want me to shy away from the one task I know I can do, they'll have to try harder than this.

When I wink at the musicians, they start to play the only faery song I know. The lilting melody soothes my nerves, and I can sense that any anger these aristocrats once had for me is starting to melt away like snow in the rain. Maybe if I can convince enough of them to think I deserve some respect, it won't matter how much the King wants me dead. Someone might vouch for my cause.

I can only hope.

When the musicians strike the right chord, I open my mouth and sing. It's not long before the lullaby sends a rush of stillness over the crowd, and I see more than one eye glistening with emotion. Just like the first time I sang, I feel a woman's nurturing voice singing to me and know she once belonged in all of my most cherished memories. While part of me wants to pursue her presence, I sense the danger in the distraction. Chasing my past won't help me save my brother. The mysterious woman will have to wait.

When the last words pass my lips, the wall protecting what's left of my inner stability and composure begins to waver. The singing woman's presence lingers on my skin like the last rays of sunlight. I hold onto the comforting echo of the lullaby as I lift my gaze, expecting the worst as I scan over the crowd.

Was my song enough to convince them of my good cause?

Am I enough?

The last chord of the instruments dies, and I force my eyes to slow down and focus on individual faces below me. The female faery I ran into while dancing is watching me with peaked interest, a curious smile playing on her lips. I notice similar expressions of wonder and surprise from the other faces.

Then I catch the cold stare of someone I've been avoiding. The King stands near the edge of the crowd, draped in a dark cloak and an apathetic air of superiority.

But even from this distance, I could swear I see a glimpse of... respect shimmering in his blue eyes. The space between us seems to fade away, and I can almost hear his breath catching, his eyes filling with suppressed emotion, as he struggles to regain his composure.

Just like the first time I sang that lullaby.

So the High King of the Otherworld isn't so unfeeling after all.

Before I can wrap my thoughts around what I just witnessed, I hear approaching footsteps behind me. Orla is leading a group of servants—all of them mortals—down the hill from the castle and towards the crowd of royals. They're carrying baskets and trays of food, and stacks of silver plates and cups that gleam orange from the sunset.

My moment on the stage is brushed away as the musicians start to play a catchy tune and the crowd cheers at the oncoming feast. Long wooden tables are set up below the platform, and the faeries organize themselves in standing lines along the table benches as the mortals form a half-circle around the clearing. I spot a smaller mortal with dark hair, and I suddenly don't need a corset to keep my chest tight and my breathing shallow. He's holding a bowl of colorful fruit that makes his skin look especially pale, and his wide eyes focus on me with a look of shock and confusion.

"Your moment of fame is over, Roisín." The King's voice whispers in my ear. I was too busy watching Darren to see him walk up beside me.

I meet his icy gaze, but don't feel the usual sting of coldness. Instead, I can see the frost in his eyes softening, and his marble mask cracks as he smiles.

"At least, for now." He adds, his tone gentle as he rests a hand on the small of my back and gestures to the crowd. "Join the others. You will perform the last task soon enough."

I take the steps off the stage two at a time, thankful that the platform can hide me from the crowd for a second while I shake my head and try to make sense of what's going on. The spot where Naoise touched me is still warm, and I can feel his confusing words tumbling around in my ear. It's the first time I can remember him saying my real name instead of calling me the mortal girl. Against my better judgement, I liked the way my name sounded on his lips.

Can I trust his sudden mood swing as a good sign? Or is he just toying with my emotions—like a cat releasing a mouse from its paw, only to pounce on it when the mouse thinks it's safe?

The King is announcing something from the stage, and I slowly make my way around the platform and through the crowd as I search for Darren.

"The season of plenty is ending, and the season of feasting has begun." Naoise says. I ignore my desire to turn around and see if he's watching me. "With the close of summer's warmth, we embrace the winter's chill. The earth shall sleep away all the living from its breast. And come spring, we will gather to welcome life's renewal with the celebration of Beltaine."

Everyone is clapping, their happy faces lifted toward their King. I wind through them until I see Darren with his bowl of fruit. He's scanning the crowd too, probably wondering where I went. I sidle up beside him, placing myself between him and another mortal boy who gives me a strange look.

"Are you going to eat all that by yourself?" I say under my breath.

Darren's head snaps around and he drops the bowl to the ground, scattering apples and grapes everywhere, as he wraps his arms around my middle.

"Raisin, I—"

"Shh..." I comb his hair through my fingers and hold him close. "You were right Darren, about everything. I'm going to do whatever it takes to make it right."

The King's speech is ending, and I know my time is up. If my plan works, this is all the goodbye we'll get.

Darren pulls away, his eyes spilling over with tears. "Wh-what's going to happen to us? The others said that we're all—"

I can't bear to hear him say the words out loud. Dying today is bad enough without hearing it from my baby brother. The one who I was supposed to always protect.

I crouch down so we're eye level. "Listen, okay? You are going to be just fine. I have a plan to get you out of here. But you have to promise me something."

"What?" He sniffs.

Out of my periphery I can see Lena standing near the platform, holding a stack of silver plates in her hands. She nods to me, and it gives me the strength I need.

"When the time comes, you have to go with the others and escape into the forest."

A shadow of concern passes over his already terrified features. "But, you'll be there too."

I hesitate for half a second too long, and he notices.

"You're coming with me, right?" He squeaks. "You have to come with me."

I grab his shoulders and give him a light shake. "Darren, listen. You pinky swear right now that when the time comes, you'll leave with the other humans." I swallow the sudden lump in my throat. "No matter what, Darren. Promise me."

"And now the mortal girl, Roisín, will entertain us in the fourth and final task." The King says, his voice breaking into our moment stitched tenderly together.

No matter our past, Darren and I share the same blood. He's the only person I can honestly say that I love.

A guard grabs my arm, and I reach for Darren with my pinky finger extended. "Promise me, Darren. Promise me!"

He's sobbing now, but he stumbles out of line to wrap his pinky around mine. Then the guard pulls me away and I'm led back onto the platform where a male faery is waiting for me. Before I can even wipe the tears from my chin, he tosses a spear at me and I grasp for it, barely catching it in my numb fingers.

"Are you ready to be humiliated once more?" The faery says, and I recognize his face as the sparring trainer who knocked me unconscious.

I brush my red skirt around my feet and take my stance. "Ready as I'll ever be."

<<----------->>

Confession: Roisín's moment with Darren was harder to write than I thought. I have a little brother, so this really hits home for me.

What about you? Do you have siblings you'd sacrifice anything for?

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