These Wicked Revels Read online

  “I see.” I looked around at all the other dancing faeries, and a part of me felt very alone all of a sudden. I hadn’t talked to anyone here except the king, although other men looked at us jealously.

  “Eva. It’s only the second night.” He twirled me around. “Of course you need time to think about it.” He smiled at me. He had a perfect dimple in his right cheek, and if his golden eyes seemed a little predatory at times, well—he couldn’t touch me. The smile seemed to bring the music into his eyes. I relaxed again. I was getting nervous because I’d never done anything like this before, never been out all night in a man’s arms and gone against my parents’ wishes.

  “Why do you dance all night?” I asked him, letting my voice grow dreamy as he spun me back against him, my back to his chest, his arms looped around me.

  “Because the forest is magic, and it makes us strong,” he said. “Because we are here to offer an escape to girls like you, who have never known freedom in their lives. And, because it’s fun. You wouldn’t know much about that, would you?”

  “Not until now, no.”

  “Evaline…” He was meeting my eyes, and I thought he might kiss me. My lips tensed together, nervous. I wondered if I’d know what to do if he tried to kiss me. “I wish…” His voice was a whisper now.

  “What do you wish, your majesty?”

  “I’ve never seen anyone like you,” he said. “Your human beauty is so pure…I ache for you, Eva. I want to make you mine. I want to give you that pleasure, such as you’ve never dreamed of.”

  His voice spoke directly into my ear, like a caress. I had never heard such a voice, as if he had been born to speak to me. Maybe I wasn’t going to marry him…or give him my mask…but was he ever going to kiss me already?

  My hard nipples tingled, just beneath the thin fabric of my dress. I wished he would touch me. His eyes were hungry, but his hands held back.

  I knew proper princesses weren’t supposed to demand kisses or anything else, but I wondered if the rules even applied out here. “Kiss me,” I breathed.

  He made a small growl of desire and pressed himself so close to me that I felt his hard length against me. “I can’t, Eva. You are dressed to entice me from head to toe and yet I am forbidden from touching you until you give me your mask.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Do you know why we bring the revels to your castle? It’s because we can sense that you need us, as your sisters did. You have been kept so strictly, you know nothing of earthly pleasures. But we are not permitted to imprint ourselves upon you in that way. We can’t be your first kiss or your first release of pleasure, unless you become one of us. My touch will burn you until you give me permission.”

  “That’s what happens when I give you my mask? I become one of you?”

  He nodded gravely. “You will be marked with faery magic. And you won’t be able to go home.”

  “Oh…”

  “I understand that it’s a lot to ask of you,” he said. “But…every princess marries a man from some far away kingdom. Your sisters did, didn’t they? And you have never seen them since? This is the only kingdom where everything will revolve around your desires and whims.”

  “My mother says it is a sin to indulge ones desires and whims.”

  “I suppose you’ll have to decide if you believe her,” he said. He stroked his chin, and then smiled faintly, as if he’d lighted upon an idea. “Come with me,” he said.

  He led me into a part of the woods. Not the dark path where I would go if I gave him my mask, but an area where the bushes were not too dense. As we got farther away from the revels, the sound of the music grew more faint, and I started to hear something else.

  A woman panting, gasping.

  The king took my hand and crouched. We moved closer, keeping a low profile. I stepped on a stick or two and cringed, but it didn’t seem to matter.

  Up ahead, one of the faery men was straddling a faery girl. I realized it was the girl who had given her mask to the man. She was spread back across the thick root of a tree, with vines caught around her hands so they were bound over her head. Her skirts were bunched around her waist and her legs were bare. His trousers were hitched down, his pelvis pumping into her.

  My eyes widened. Was it all right to watch?

  Suddenly the faery woman looked over at the bushes. She saw the king there.

  “Carry on, my dear,” he said. “I just wanted to give the Princess a glimpse.”

  I was somewhat shocked that he would speak to her like that in the middle of such an intimate act, that it didn’t matter if we watched them. The faery man seemed to take it as a challenge. He started pushing into her faster and deeper, until she started panting out little gasps. The man pulled the straps of her filmy dress down, baring her pale breasts to the open air and twisting her nipples between his fingers.

  I was hardly breathing as I watched them. I couldn’t tear my eyes away, but I stayed completely still. They knew I was there, but it was still my instinct to hide.

  The king took one of my own hands in his, and guided it beneath my skirt. He pressed my fingers to the bare, hot skin between my legs. I was dripping wet. He moved my fingers along my slick nether lips.

  “I can’t touch you yet,” he whispered. “But just imagine if I could…”

  The feel of my own skin in such a state alarmed me. I never touched myself like this. It was hard to believe that my prim, stiff everyday self could have been harboring anything like this, all along. This dark, wet secret was always with me. I had never known it.

  As the faery girl started to cry out, the prince urged my hand to move faster. My fingers stroked swollen, forbidden places, guided by the king’s hand. My skin cried out for more. I needed more. I felt the faery’s pleasure echoing in my own self. I wanted to know what it felt like to lay back and let a man take control of me like that. My breath quickened as I tried to shove the thought away.

  The girl started screaming, her face flushed and blissful, the faery man thrusting his cock into her over and over.

  I yanked my hand away from the king. My cheeks were burning. He drew back his hand and I could see my own slickness had dripped onto his fingers.

  “I have to go,” I said abruptly.

  I had never seen or felt anything like that before, and in the moment, it was too much. I ran to the boat and picked up the oars myself, to flee the scene. I was burning. I was angry at the king for showing me such a thing, I told myself.

  But even when I was back in my own bed, and in the morning, after I was sealed up in my stiff dress, all day I kept being aware of the feelings I had felt last night. I kept reliving the moment when my fingers had stroked myself, and the faery woman’s joyous abandon.

  I imagined pulling up my skirts and touching that place again, exploring the secret pulse of desire within me. But I didn’t dare.

  I could never let anyone know. I could never let my mother see it on my face. In the real world, I had to be the perfect, silent girl I had always been.

  But it felt so wrong.

  And the revels felt so right. Everyone was so light and merry. Even if…sometimes…it felt a little too dark out in the forest.

  Still, maybe I did deserve a life that made me happy…

  By the third night, I asked the king if I could take a break from the dances to watch the musicians play.

  “Of course, my lady,” he said.

  I walked close to the patch of grass where the musicians were assembled, and for some time I rested my feet and just watched in rapture. They smiled at me. I think they wanted to impress me, because their music grew more boisterous for a tune or two. And then they glanced at each other and nodded, and the one woman among them brought a harp forward and began to play the most haunting song. The dancers slowed their steps, the ladies’ skirts twirling to match rhythms that reminded me of crisp autumn days and waves crashing on an ocean shore and storms blowing toward our castle. All of the sensations one could feel were trapped within thei
r instruments, and they could choose any one to give me.

  When the song was done, I applauded them and curtseyed. They doffed their hats to me, except the woman, who just looked at me with a slightly strange expression. She didn’t smile, and her eyes were large and a little sad. But then, she looked like that all the time.

  Chapter Four

  Will

  “Did you hear the latest news in town?” My sister came home with bread and ale to go with the night’s stew. “The king found the youngest sister’s slippers with holes in them this morning.”

  “Why should I care about the king’s brats?” I scowled, feeling the familiar pain in my leg as I stood up to grab the basket off of her hands.

  “You are such a grump, Will.” She shook her head at me. “I wasn’t even done with my story. This time, he’s not offering gold or horses to solve the mystery. He’s offering Evaline’s hand in marriage and—believe it or not—the kingdom. I mean—anyone who solves the mystery could be king!”

  I scoffed, popping the cork from the ale and pouring us each a cup. “I’m still waiting to hear why I’d care.”

  “I think you should try, Will.”

  I almost spat out my first swig of ale. “Try to marry the princess? Become king someday?”

  “Well, what’s the harm?” She crossed her arms. “Torina is such a speck of a kingdom. Surely you could handle it. And you know a thing or two about shoes.”

  I rolled my eyes. I had taken over my father’s old profession as the town cobbler when I came back from the war. My days with the music troupe were certainly over, but I was of an age where I needed to settle down anyway.

  “You’re a smart fellow. It’s worth an attempt. Better than moping around here,” she said.

  “I’m not moping, Jeannie, I—“ I scowled, hating to admit weakness. “I just can’t shake the memories.”

  “I know…” She immediately seemed sorry. I knew she must get tired of living with me, even though she was the one who insisted on moving in to take care of me while I was recovering. She didn’t have to; her husband had left a bit of money. But I knew that, despite her cheerful front, she felt his loss deeply. The war had taken its toll on so many families in town, but life went on.

  “I know what this is really about,” I said. “Widow Olman’s been complaining about me again, hasn’t she? I can’t help it if that woman tries my patience. I can’t fill last minute orders for her; she’s not my only customer. And those shoes I made her are excellent. I don’t care what she says.”

  Jeannie laughed. “Oh, dear, I haven’t even heard about this one, although I’m sure I will.

  No, I just thought—it would be the best revenge of all to win the hand of the king’s daughter and to be king someday yourself. Could you imagine? I know it’s unlikely. I don’t even care about the money or the title. I just want to see a smile on your face again.”

  “I’ll get there.” I tried to smile now, but it was more of a grimace. “But I don’t know if being king would make me smile, exactly.”

  “Is your leg bothering you?”

  “Not too much. I was just standing on it too long. I got plenty of work done earlier.”

  Every day, I thanked my stars that it wasn’t worse. I’d been damned lucky. A horse stepped on my leg when I was knocked down in the Battle of Crowzen. I could have lost the leg. I could have been unable to walk again. And certainly, I could have lost my life, like so many of my fellow soldiers had that day.

  No, I had healed up all right, thanks to the good fortune that a healer was nearby, and Jeannie’s insistence that I rest up, drink plenty of broth—she swore by it—and generally give in to her bossy nursing.

  It was the memories that haunted me. The nightmares. The visions that came day and night. Michael, bleeding to death in my arms. Ulf’s brains spilled out on the field. Severed limbs, the smell of blood and death, the screams and groans of dying men being run over by carts and trampled by feet. Cries for water.

  Worse still, just as I had seen my friends die, I had also taken several lives. I was following my duty and fighting for my own life, but what consolation was that when I ran my sword through a young man no different from Michael or Ulf? Those men were just on the other side, that was all. They had families that would mourn them too.

  I was starting to sweat just thinking about it. All that, two years of fighting, just to squabble over one goddamn territory about twenty miles square. Now the king was entertaining one of his former foes. They’d been dancing and drinking all night. And my boyhood friends, my neighbors, the friends I made during my service: we were all just game pieces to them.

  Maybe it would be pretty satisfying to marry the king’s youngest brat. I knew the princesses were all pious little things, but they still didn’t want for anything. If she was my wife, she could stare my scars in the face. She could rub my leg when it hurt, and when I needed a release to get my mind off the memories, I could pin her under me and drive my cock into her fragile little body.

  I would glare at the king on my wedding day, and maybe he would think twice before he engaged in some bloody stalemate—or before he handed off his daughter to just anybody.

  To think, I used to sing ballads about war and the glory of kings. What a joke. Kings didn’t care about anyone and war was nothing but a stream of horrors.

  “You know, Jeannie, maybe you’re right,” I said, although I suspected that maybe she just wanted to get me out of the house.

  On the road to the castle, in the middle of the king’s woods, an old woman walked out in front of me. I instantly slowed my steps, growing wary. As far as I knew, old women didn’t live in the king’s woods.

  “Well met, soldier,” she said.

  “How did you know, grandmother?” I was instantly respectful. She had no way of knowing my limp was from a war injury. A witch, I thought.

  “I see it in your eyes.” She hobbled toward me. She had a walking stick in one hand and a basket draped across the other arm, and wore a tattered dress and shawl, both dyed in muted forest colors. “Are you going to see about the princess and her dancing shoes?”

  “I thought I’d give it a try,” I said, with a shrug. I didn’t want to make a fuss about it.

  “I have something for you,” she said, beckoning me with a stiff finger.

  I came closer, on my guard. You never could be certain with old women like this, but I thought she might be sympathetic.

  She pulled out the blanket inside her basket. It was actually a cloak. One side was dull black, and the other side had a slight shimmer.

  “This cloak,” she said. “If you wear it with the dull side out, it will turn you invisible. Wear this so you can follow the princess when she goes to the faery realm to dance at the stroke of midnight. If you wear it the other way, it will grant you the form of a faery man. You won’t even feel the pain in your leg anymore, so you can dance to your heart’s content without notice. But only until the dawn. That will be tricky, because the sun never shines on the revels. But nevertheless, dawn will come for you, and you will have to go.”

  “How am I supposed to know when the dawn comes if the sun never shines?” I was already skeptical. I didn’t like magic, especially faery magic. Time followed strange rules. Men could vanish for a day and come back ten years older.

  “Do you have a clock, sir?”

  “I have a pocket watch.” My jaw set. Even the pocket watch brought back terrible memories. Michael told me to take it when he was dying. It was an heirloom from his father and he had no son or brother who could take it.

  “Then, you can mark time. You will have about six hours. Don’t lose track.” She handed me the cloak and her wizened hand clutched mine. “My son,” she said. “My son Michael was at the Battle of Crowzen. You soothed him with a song.”

  I went completely cold.

  That was a private moment, and there was no way she could know about it unless she was a witch, but…it was true. I used to entertain the men sometimes with s
ongs that were rousing or bawdy. But when Michael was dying, he asked me to sing a hymn. I had never sung anything like that to another person, but I would never refuse the request of a dying man. I liked to think he died in peace because of it.

  I had not sung a note since.

  “Michael…” In that instant, I stopped caring who she was, how she knew about the princess and the faeries or owned a magic cloak. I knew she understood my goal. If I was the king someday, I would never engage young men in another damnably senseless war. “I won’t fail you. I’ll have revenge for all of them.”

  “Godspeed,” she said.

  As I arrived at the castle, another fellow was just leaving—walking like he was in pain, his head hung in shame.

  He noticed me. “Hey, are you trying to win the princess? Because you’ll just end up with a public whipping when you fail.”

  “Whipping?” Damn it, Jeannie hadn’t mentioned that a public whipping was part of the bargain. I should have read the public notice myself. I definitely should have known that the king wouldn’t hand over his title to just anyone. Since I’d gotten back from the war, I let Jeannie handle the world while I stayed home. People expected to meet the old Will, and I wasn’t that man anymore. Every town has a grumpy old man who yells at people for no reason, and if I was being honest, I was shaping up into that man, and I wasn’t even old yet.

  “Might as well turn around,” the young man said. He had more money than me, I thought. Maybe a local landowner’s son. His clothes were fine, silk and deeply dyed wool. “It’s impossible. I was right there in the princess’s room. So was the guard. I was awake one minute, and the next minute we had both slept through the whole thing. There’s an enchantment there.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  “It’s no use trying,” he persisted. “You’re just going to get a whipping.”

  “I’ve had worse.”

  He watched me keep walking, and shook his head.