Chapter Twelve

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The Fae ducked under another archway and led them onto a crescent shaped balcony. Alannah shielded her eyes from the sun's glare. The Fae called Winter was seated near the edge, on a chair strung with honeysuckle. But the sight that took her breath away was the view. A city stretched out below them, all twisted glass spires and rose-hued domes. Sunlight reflected off the towers and thew shards of light across the valley. It was as if an artist had sculpted the city from diamonds.

"Wow," she breathed. "It's beautiful."

Dameon shifted, frowning. "I suppose."

The servant murmured something in Winter's ear, and the pale-haired Fae beckoned them forward. "Ebel tells me you wanted to see me." His brow creased and he looked genuinely confused. "Are you not happy with the quarters I assigned you?"

Alannah elbowed Dameon before he could make a noise and the dragon pursed his lips. "That's not it," she said, adding, "sir," when the Fae's brow creased further. "It's just – my friends and I don't belong here. We'd like you to send us home."

The Fae held out a goblet and a figure slunk out of the shadows and took it from him. It was Rose, dressed in pink satin with her hair loose around her shoulders. She shot Alannah a pleading look.

"That isn't possible," said Winter, gently. "I cannot send you back."

"Cannot, or will not?" murmured Dameon and the Fae's eyes flashed.

"You are here on my hospitality alone, dragon. There are some who would have you skinned and your scales made into armour."

"I'd like to see you try," Dameon gritted out. "I could transform right now and burn this city to the ground."

The Fae looked smug. "By all means, go ahead."

Dameon was already muttering the words of the spell. His magic seeped into the air. But a moment later, his expression tightened and the fledgling spell fractured and died.

The dragon hissed. Alannah put a hand on his elbow, feeling a little shakier. She fingered the two rings of silk thread on her finger and wondered if her spells would be blocked, too. "Fine," she said. "Then we demand to see the High King."

Winter blinked at her. "You have no right to petition the King."

Alannah didn't let her relief show on her face. She'd heard that the Seelie Court had a King, but it had been a gamble. As was this. "We are prisoners in your realm," she said, tilting her head in a poor imitation of command, "and we demand to petition the Seelie Court for our freedom. They have to hear us." All truth, judging by the way the Fae's face darkened.

"Very well," Winter said, with a scowl. "But the girl and the knight remain with me."

"For the time being," Alannah replied, icily.

"Ebel." A moment later the servant appeared in the archway. Those ears had amazing hearing. "Take them out of the city," he said, "and lead them before the court when it convenes at twilight."

Only by a quirk of his eyebrows did the Fae betray his surprise. "As you command, my lord." He turned away without another word. Alannah threw what she hoped was a reassuring look at Rose and went after him. Dameon stayed close as they walked back through the glass and marble passageways.

"What's to say these Fae even agree to release us?" he said. He still looked annoyed and he was speaking aloud; maybe he'd given up on the idea of caution.

Alannah shrugged. "It's better off than staying here."

Ebel led them out of the house and into the streets of the city, where the breeze carried the soft sound of music. The paths were paved in white flagstones and framed by glass columns. Entwined over their heads was a mesh of honeysuckle so thick with flowers its scent hung in the air. For an absurd moment she wanted to take Dameon's hand just to feel something real.

After a while, the houses around them grew sparser and the honeysuckle died out. The path they were walking on kept going arrow straight, cutting through huge, gnarled trees and overgrown shrubs dotted with violet flowers.

What are you going to say?

I'm not really sure, she admitted. Any ideas you have would be welcome....

I'm all out, he sent. You might do better on your own, anyway. Without my true form, I'm as good as useless. The thought was bitter.

That's not true. The thought escaped before she could stop it. But she didn't want to take it back. A human they might not listen to, but a human and a dragon? Our odds are much better together.

Together, huh? He looked at her sideways.

She rolled her eyes. Now is not the time, Dameon.

Ebel stopped and Alannah snapped to attention. The path had ended. The glass columns ended, as well, and the ivy trailed onto the grass. In front of them stood a ring of standing stones, great big blocks of granite. Magic clung to each one, fresh and natural like the earth. Six sidhe stood in front of them. Their robes floated on the breeze, delicate and translucent, and their voices sounded like bells. But their expressions were cold, hard. Merciless. They weren't going to be easy to convince.

The Fae servant moved to stand beside a column. He didn't look at them and he didn't make any move to introduce them. She glanced at Dameon, who raised both eyebrows and nodded. They moved forward in tandem and stood in the grass clearing at the foot of the circle of standing stones.

"Why do you come before the Council?" asked a Fae woman with white-blond hair and brown skin. She wore a crown of green ivy leaves and had eyes the same colour. Next to her stood a pale-skinned Fae man who wore red-gold oak leaves as his crown: the High King, and this was his queen. "Speak, human," she added, in a voice as smooth and musical as the east wind.

Come on, Alannah, snap out of it, she told herself. "Your majesties," she said, injecting the words with as much sarcasm as she dared. Dameon shot her a look she couldn't read. "Honoured council members. We were kidnapped by one of your subjects, a Fae called Winter. And we've come before you to request that you send us - all of us - back.."

"What was your charge?" asked the queen.

"We unwittingly stumbled into a mushroom ring, Your Majesty," said Dameon, turning on his charm, "and we were not informed of our transgression until the sidhe decided to take a liking to one of our party members." There was a stirring around the circle.

"A dragon," one Fae murmured.

"Winter brought a dragon here?"

Their gazes practically burned into Dameon's face. Goddess, no wonder he hated Fae. The queen levelled a glare at the council and they quietened.

Alannah injected some heat into her own expression. "Obviously you don't want us here, and we'd clearly rather not be here. So if you could send us back, we'll get out of your hair and be on our way."

"How many of you did my son take?" asked the King. He didn't move, but the rest of the council seemed to become smaller when he spoke. Then his words registered. His son. Winter was a Prince.

"Four, Your Majesty," said Alannah, being more careful with her tone. "One of whom is destined for someone else; our own King."

"Such matters are unimportant to the sidhe," dismissed the Queen.

"I'm sure we could find our way back here," said Dameon. "And if we could, so could others. War between humans and the sidhe would upset your prized balance, would it not?"

"Well-spoken," said the King, with a glint of humour.

"But our son has chosen." The Queen regarded them coldly. "We will not send you back."

Alannah exhaled. "There must be some way – there must be something we could give you in exchange."

The Queen raised her eyebrows mockingly. "You humans have nothing we could possibly require."

But another Fae stirred, a younger one with hair the colour of bark. "Perhaps there is something they could do."

The King inclined his head. "Speak."

"The warlock in the darkforest," he said. "The sorcerer is burning our sacred trees and destroying our fairy rings. We can no longer enter the heart of the forest - but perhaps they could."

"And defeat the warlock?" mused the King. Murmurs of agreement travelled through the circle.

Alannah and Dameon shared a glance. What do you think? sent Alannah.

Better than staying here, he replied, with the shadow of a grin. And a dragon and a witch should be able to defeat a single warlock.

"I'm sure we could help you out with that," she told the Council. "If, of course, you free not only us, but Rose and the knight, William. Send us all back."

The queen frowned. "My son's loss-"

"Is negligible, compared to what we would gain by being free of the warlock," said the King. "And Winter is not ready for a wife, certainly not a human one."

Reluctantly, the woman nodded.

"It is agreed, then," said the King. "If you defeat the warlock, we will free yourselves and your companions."

"Thank you," said Alannah. "Also, one more thing." She plucked at her ruined dress. "This isn't exactly warlock-fighting material. I don't suppose you could grant me with something a little more practical?"

A smirk appeared on the King's lips. At least someone appreciated what she'd been through. "As you wish." The Fae's earth-toned magic swept over her from neck to toe and the dragging weight of the dress vanished. In its place appeared a pair of simple cotton breeches and a tunic tied at the waist. The fabric was ocean-blue and the lacing running up the front gleamed silver in the evening light.

Something pulled at her hip. Alannah reached down and grasped a sword hilt.

"Rassnoken," said the King. "Slayer of evil. It will help you in your quest."

Quest. What had she gotten herself in to?

"Can you use that thing?" asked Dameon, eyeing her doubtfully.

In response, Alannah drew the sword – light and beautifully balanced – and sketched a couple of quick defensive moves. It was a foil, too slender for a battlefield but perfectly balanced for her weight.

The dragon blinked. "Oh."

She grinned at him. "This is lovely," she said, to the King. "Thank you. But how will we-"

"I will send you and the dragon back to the human realm," interrupted the King, "and once you have succeeded, we will send your companions. Are you ready?"

She nodded and felt Dameon take a step closer.

"Very well." The King lifted his hand and, once again, her vision blurred and the world melted into darkness.

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