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CHAPTER FIVE

T he Din’Glai was… something. It was one part oil painting, one part dream, one part…

Well.

Ava tried not to laugh about the mental image of Shakespeare having interactions with the fae—if he did—and then trying to figure out how to get the vibe right. That was, without depicting the rampant sexual intercourse that was on full display.

Because, ho boy. Not only did it seem like the fae liked to engage in such activities, but they also clearly had no problem doing it in public.

Some people gathered around a pool table to play a game.

Some people gathered around a firepit at a party to chat.

Some people gathered around a person to rail them six ways from Sunday.

She tried not to stare.

Or blush.

Lysander caught her doing both, however. He chuckled. “Yes! Of course. Humans. You are still quite prudish, in your time?”

“Not as much as we used to be, but we still don’t, y’know, casually bang at parties.” She paused. “Okay, that’s not entirely true. Just not at the parties I go to. ”

“Then you are going to all the wrong parties.” He grinned down at her playfully. “What is wrong with a bit of pleasure shared?”

“Pregnancy. Disease.” She wrinkled her nose. “Excessive fluids.”

That had Lysander cackling in laughter. He pulled her closer to him as they walked.

“The first two are not a concern here. Pregnancy between our people is a willing choice. Only when we cross the species lines does it become harder to control. As for the latter, well, that is a matter to discuss with your partners, I suppose.”

“I guess. I suppose there’s also the social stigma still lingering. Hard to wrap my head around a society where that isn’t the case.” She shrugged. “That’s my problem, though. Not yours.”

“I’m glad you see it that way.” Lysander nudged her elbow playfully. “There is hope for you yet.”

She rolled her eyes but was still smiling faintly all the same. It faded quickly. “I don’t understand, Lysander.”

“Understand what? The sex?”

She laughed. “No, I understand that. I mean—I should be losing my freaking mind right now. Valroy is withholding information from me. Serrik is withholding information from me. I’m being turned into a monster.

I have this…giant ticking clock over my head, and Valroy is treating it like it’s no big deal. I shouldn’t be going along with this.”

“He wants you to see the better side of our kind. What we can offer you. What we can offer mankind. The beauty and the majesty.” Reaching out, he gently tucked a stray curl of hair behind her ear.

“Besides, what good would it do to burden you with more, now? You are at the cliff’s edge already.

I know how frustrating it is to not be told the truth of things, but…

I promise you, it will not change what is occurring. It will merely serve to upset you.”

“So you know, too?” She shot him a look.

“Ah—well, yes?” Lysander cringed, realizing he had just walked into something he shouldn’t have. “But, only because it—it was simply too complicated not to tell me, and?—”

Oh, now she was starting to feel bad for him.

He was clearly stuck between a rock and a hard place.

He couldn’t tell her because his boss had told him not to, and his boss was obviously the type to rip his limbs off.

“It’s fine, Lysander. It’s not your fault.

” Though she did wonder how many people were in on it. She’d have to assume everyone.

His shoulders dropped from where they’d bunched up close to his ears.

The relief was palpable. “I appreciate that…” He paused.

“Besides, there is something to be said for taking what you can in stride. Your life has been nothing but chaos. Enjoy the peace where you can get it. Who knows what tomorrow will bring.”

That was fair. She supposed. She didn’t really like it, but she also didn’t really have much she could do about it. She couldn’t force Valroy to talk to her. “Yeah. Okay.” She sighed.

“Good.” Lysander lifted her hand to his lips and placed a kiss to the back of her knuckles. “Now. Come. Let us enjoy our evening as much as we can.”

The dance floor itself was an enormous parquet wood floor arranged around a tree that soared up high overhead. It looked like a willow tree, but its bark was a ghastly shade of grayish-white.

The music was bizarre. It wasn't melody so much as organized chaos, beautiful and discordant all at once.

The notes bypassed Ava's ears entirely, vibrating directly through her bones and blood, compelling movement whether she willed it or not.

She put Book down against a tree nearby.

She pointed at it. “Sit. Stay. For the duration of the dance. Please.” Having it pop into her hands mid-dance sounded extremely awkward.

“May I have this dance, my lady?” Lysander smiled at her.

“Well, seems silly to say no, after you walked me over here.” She chuckled.

He bowed his head. “It would not be the first time a lady in this court has been so fickle.”

“Well, that’s me. Non-fickle-y, somewhat-prudish, slightly-less-human-than-I-was-when-I-started, Ava.” She watched the fae as they waltzed around the enormous tree. It seemed both antiquated and foreign—somehow feral and wild but also familiar and refined in the same breath.

Lysander lifted her hand to his lips and placed a kiss against the back of her knuckles. “And you may consider me smitten, slightly-less-than-human, somewhat-prudish, non-fickle-y, Lady Ava.”

That had her cheeks going warm again. Damn it. Stupid pretty fae. Stupid pretty fae and their moves. She wasn’t used to being flirted with. Okay, she was attractive—she knew that. But she was always very careful to avoid situations where she had to put up with people hitting on her.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like the attention—it was that she didn’t know what the fiddly-fuck to do with it. It was like it mashed some stupid weird Emergency Stop button in her head, and everything just came to a screeching halt.

“I. Um.” There it was again. The E-Stop button. And she didn’t know how to sarcasm her way out of it. Which was the worst part of it.

Luckily, she was saved by the music coming to an end. The dancers applauded the musicians—wherever they were—and some of the dancers changed out. It was their turn to take to the floor.

With a quiet whine, she let Lysander lead her out to the floor. She shot him an incredulous look. “I’m gonna trip.”

“Just follow my lead, my Lady Weaver.” He placed her hands on him in the appropriate spots. As the music began, he led her through the first dance with surprising grace. Well, if he was part cat as she suspected he was, she shouldn’t be surprised.

Unlike human dances with their predictable patterns, this one had no fixed steps, no clear beginning or end.

It was primal and instinctive. It reminded her of storm gusts.

Their movements were wild, untamed and came without warning—seemingly unpredictable.

There was sense to it, but it wasn’t for her to know what it was.

All she could do was just go along with it and hope for the best.

“See? You adapt quickly,” Lysander observed as he guided her through a turn that left her feeling as though she'd momentarily stepped out of her own body. “And here you were, worried you would be stumbling over yourself like a typical human.”

“Probably because I’m not entirely human anymore.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Something flashed in Lysander’s eyes—satisfaction, perhaps. Or excitement. “I can see that. Your tattoo has grown. The Web changes you more and more. King Valroy must be pleased.”

“Do you think that’s why he brought me here?” That’s what she’d accused him of, at any rate. “To show off his new pet project to the court?”

Lysander laughed as the waltz continued.

“King Valroy has but one goal in his mind, and that is to rend all worlds save ours to ashes. How he seeks to reach that goal changes by the day. But I believe he brought you here to introduce you as what you are becoming—a power to be respected, not a curiosity to be gawked at.” His grip on her waist tightened fractionally.

“Though I admit, I am enjoying the…spectacle.”

Before she could make a crack about exactly what kind of spectacle he was enjoying, he spun her again. He caught her in his arms and by then, it was too late to quip. The moment was gone.

Lysander smiled, clearly knowing he’d won. “And what do you think of our king? Most newcomers find his attention overwhelming.”

“I’ve had practice dealing with overwhelming fae,” Ava replied dryly.

Lysander laughed easily, and the sound was rich and genuine. She decided she liked the sound of his laugh. “Yes, I imagine you have.” His eyes tracked briefly to her tattoo. “Though I wonder if your former captor was more or less overwhelming than our king. I hear rumor they are related.”

“How much do you know about him?”

“Everyone knows the tale of the exile,” Lysander shrugged.

“The spider who spins webs of vengeance from his prison. The half-brother who dared challenge both courts.” His hand at her waist slid slightly lower, just enough to be noticeable.

“But enough about ancient history. Tonight is for the present—and you, Ava Cole, are the most interesting thing to happen to this court in a long time.”

The way he said her name sent a warm shiver down her spine. There was something dangerously charming about Lysander, a quality that made her want to trust him despite every instinct warning her against it.

The music shifted, becoming slower, more hypnotic.

Around them, the dancing fae moved like figures in a dream, their inhuman grace both beautiful and unsettling.

Some had abandoned any pretense of human form.

Some had become great beasts. Some had forms that were twisted but still beautiful.

Others were shifting into shapes that made Ava's eyes hurt to look at directly.