The glass skylights reveal the night sky. The moon hangs above us, a pale and lonely guest of honor, and its dim glow passes through the glass.
Clutching my arm, Alice stares up at it. Her long blonde hair falls down her back, silver in the light, just as it was the first night we met. She could be a Faerie for how lovely she is, with only the tips of her ears betraying her heritage.
The proof of our tether shines like a golden bracelet around her delicate wrist, visible only to those with magic unless it’s coaxed to light. Like a wedding band, it proclaims she is mine.
Unlike a wedding band, it also warns I must keep my distance if I care about Alice’s virtue.
And I do, though a dark part of me voices its displeasure far too often, especially when Alice says things like she did earlier in my quarters.
Especially when she touches me.
Tables line the edge of the room. Beyond them, doors are open to the night, letting in the mountain air and the perfume of the night-blooming vines that climb the outside walls.
People freely go between the garden and the ballroom, some pausing by the great fire urns that are placed near the doorways to chase away the mountains’ evening chill and warm their hands.
“You have a masquerade every month?” Alice asks, her attention moving to the wall of open doors.
“Every month,” I confirm, hoping to hide my weariness.
Even though I’m finding it’s far more pleasant to attend with Alice on my arm, in the past, the balls have been tedious affairs I would have rather missed.
“I suppose it’s cold in winter,” she says absently.
“We have no winter,” I remind her.
She turns back to me, surprised when she realizes her mistake. “Of course.”
“There’s a winter court, though,” I tell her. “Tunder, in North Faerie. The palace is made of ice.”
“That must be frigid,” she says with a laugh, allowing me to escort her onto the dance floor.
“Mmm.” I turn and take her waist. “I’ve only been once. If I weren’t Fae, I would have frozen to death.”
A strange expression crosses Alice’s face, but she appears to brush the thought away as she sets her hand on my shoulder.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I don’t suppose I’ll ever be able to see it. No human could.”
“They have illantés as well. They’re protected by magic.”
She slowly nods.
“But you’re right—I don’t have that kind of power. I can protect you from goblins…but not ice.”
We fall into step with the other couples, and Alice easily picks up the foreign steps as she follows my lead. A quartet of players sits on an elevated dais in the corner. They create a dark, haunting melody with their stringed instruments, setting the mood.
“What other courts are there?” she asks.
“There are five high courts, of which Auvenridge is one. Eilonwy in East Faerie is another, as is Tunder.”
“And the other two?”
“They’re both in South Faerie. The Sionna court rules the archipelago, and the Cavonshim court rules the southern mainland. Then there are several lesser courts scattered amidst the human territories. Though they are self-governing monarchies, like the high courts, their territories are smaller, usually confined to small land features, such as valleys, forests, or islands.”
“I’ve read that in the past, in some places, Faeries and humans coexisted,” Alice says. “Is it true?”
“Are you speaking of the fairies of the warring kingdoms of Draegan and Renove?”