The Stargazer

Stargazer (chapter ten)

She paced the bower, dodging dangling bunches of flowers and the small candle-lit lanterns that offered a dim glow to the gloom. Odd pieces of furniture had appeared in her absence creating dangerous clutter for such exercise. One such short table went over the side when she cracked her ankles on it. Frustration buzzed under her skin, anger heating her blood even as caution held her in place. That man had to be one of the most frustrating people she’d ever encountered.


The bower eventually rearranged itself to allow for the pacing. A circuit formed, weaving between the bed and the outer wall and around the smallish table that continued to hold a variety of food. The glaive leaned against the wall in shining splendor beside the glittering shoes, magically clean and resplendent once again.


If only she could touch the magic. It was there, just beyond her reach. She could feel it like a buzz under her skin, but she couldn’t touch it. She had to find a way to break through the barrier and reach the magic.


Her eyes lit on the shoes and narrowed. Dancing. The Fae danced to bring magic to the surface and replenish themselves and the world around them. If she danced, she might bring the magic close enough to touch. However, she allowed, dancing might simply reinforce the barrier around them.


Her hands bunched into fists as her mind continued to circle the problem, searching for a weakness. There had to be a way. Magic always left a loophole for free will and she hadn’t freely accepted terms for her imprisonment.


You are a stubborn wench, aren’t you?


The whisper of a breeze brushed over her ears tinged with laughter. Aislinn spun, trying to find the source, but the air eddied away. She could sense a presence, faint and just beyond her touch. Much like the magic of this place.


“Who are you?”


The wind rustled and sighed but no answer was forthcoming. She stilled, instinct telling her she wouldn’t have much time with this being.


“Why me? Why am I here?”


You are the key he refuses to grasp.


“You have no right to hold me here,” she challenged. “I made no bargain with you.”


Don’t be a silly bird and batter yourself bloody on the bars, the voice chided. There are possibilities here you refuse to see.


“Free me.”


Laughter danced for a moment at her demand, mocking in its delight,


You can be free. Ask him how.


That quickly, the voice was gone and she could find no sign that anyone had ever been there.


She was the key to this place? That made no sense. This place had been created long before she was born. Rowan had been here longer than she’d been alive. Not a lie. Her admonition to Rowan came back to her with bitter force. Oaths were formed too easily for Fae to lie outright. Words could be twisted, facts omitted, but lies formed oaths no Fae wanted trapped in. If she wasn’t the key to this place, saying she was would, in essence, make her that key.


She peered over the edge of the tower at the smoldering remains of the bonfire. There was no sign of the tall changeling or his golem friend. She would have to wait until morning for answers.


Her wings flicked out. She was done with waiting. The blasted man thought nothing of discomforting her. It was her turn to prickle at him.


The night breeze brushed her skin with cool fingers, the dew laden grass chill on her feet as she landed. There was no sign of Wheezer.


The door to the tower was closed and no light shone around the edges. She lifted her hand to knock but hesitated. Rowan was asleep. Waking him would hardly put him in a generous or talkative mood. Steeling herself, she rapped on the door and waited. She needed answers. He was simply going to have to learn to deal with her.


The door jerked wide and Rowan scowled down at her, his hair tousled and chest bare. Her mouth went dry and her brain went blank. In spite of the angry expression, he was quite something to look at. Muscles gleamed in the dim glow of the dying bonfire. She could feel the vitality, the life, radiating off him. His glower darkened at her silence and she blew out a breath, trying to gather her scattered thoughts.


“When the princesses danced before, did anything happen?”


“They got tired and went to sleep,” he snapped. “Something I’d like to do.”


“Were they able to touch magic after they danced?” she insisted.


“How would I know?”


She stared at him and his unchanging scowl.


“You’re right,” she said softly. “You wouldn’t know. You’re human. You can’t use magic or feel it. So how exactly do you intend to get out of a magical prison if you can’t use or touch magic?” Her voice rose. “I’m the key, Rowan. I can use magic. I can get us out of here if you’d just tell me how!”


He went still, his muscles tightening under his skin.


“Who said you’re the key?”


It would be a very bad idea to tell him of the voice in the wind and her suspicions of just who it had been.


“It makes sense, doesn’t it?” she hedged. “The King won’t be free of his obligation to you until the bargain is met and you’re free of this place, so why waste the time and power to bring me here if I’m not the key to ending this?”


He looked away, the muscles of his jaw tight as he ground his teeth in either frustration or anger. She didn’t know him well enough yet to judge.


“The princesses danced,” he ground out, still not looking at her. “They danced until their feet bled. Once they started, they couldn’t stop and those they danced with them were just as stuck. Try it if you want, but don’t expect me to join in. It didn’t get them free.”


He made to shove the door closed, but Ailinn put a staying hand on the wood.


“What did free them?”


Without answering, he knocked her hand away, pushed the door closed, and she heard the sound of a bolt sliding home. The urge to lash out almost overrode her common sense. Kicking the door would only hurt her foot and accomplish nothing else. Muttering under her breath, she turned away from the tower and its maddening occupant and stared into the black of the world around her.


Rowan was right in one respect. Dancing hadn’t freed the princesses but she wasn’t the same sort of Fae as they. Her power, if anything, was unique and beyond the touch of any Time King. Surely, if she danced, the magic that came would be beyond the reach of his power. Right?


There could be no harm in trying, she decided.


With a short stop at the bower to retrieve a small lantern, Aislinn headed in to the absolute black of the starless night. Weaving her way through the sky, she headed in the general direction of Winter. Night was when her power as a Sidhe was the strongest. Her Tuathe’ de side was stronger during the day but she didn’t want to wait until morning to try. If nothing else, she could try dancing in the sunlight later.


Frost closed frigid teeth on her and she settled into the snow-covered landscape of Winter. Diamond leaves caught the light of her lantern, sending rainbows chasing over the pristine white. Aislinn set her lantern on the ground and looked around.


The clearing wasn’t large, by any means, but the over-arching branches created a sheltering canopy from the ever-present breeze and the white barked trunks stood as a natural boundary. It seemed as good a place as any to dance.


Aislinn closed her eyes and lifted her face to the starless sky. Around her, she could feel the magic that enclosed this place, the ebb and flow of a river, every-changing but full of power. It was daunting to think of pitting herself against that barrier but layered within that silent wall whispered the familiar flow of earth and air. Her power, just beyond her reach, waiting to be tapped into. Lifting her arms, she began to move.


The dance was as old as the Fae Realms themselves and every Fae was born knowing the steps. Woven into the fabric of their souls was the need to give back to the world the magic that replenished them. She had danced before many times but never alone. Usually, an entire court would gather to dance, to revel all night and replenish the earth and themselves.


She didn’t hesitate. She threw herself into the dance with everything in her. With every step, magic rose until it whipped in a maelstrom around her. And still she spun, swaying, reaching for all she could gather. The magic entwined her arms, flowing up her legs with heated familiarity. Her heart pounded as she pushed herself faster and faster, drawing the power into her body. It filled her up, overflowed in an incandescent sparkle that lit the diamond foliage around her.


Laughter spilled over as she twirled, a wild, manic sound in the silence. It was working! She had never felt so full, so powerful. Surely, with this kind of power, she would be able to break free of the spell that held her here.


But the dance didn’t end. Once began, it had to be finished. Aislinn danced on, power rising with every step. The rush and sparkle became a burn and her laughter became rasping breaths.  Her lungs hurt and her sides ached but her feet moved and she spun and whirled, moving faster and faster. Dawn crept closer. The ache of her body became pain and tears washed her cheeks, but still she danced, unable to break free.


The first glow of day lit the sky. Without warning, the dance ended and Aislinn crumpled.