Dreamwater by Chrystalla Thoma Page B

floor, growing like a vine. The benches and tables rattled, the goblets revolved madly, the leftover food bubbled inside the cracked bowls.
    The Glamour spread in violent, widening circles. It slammed against my skin, and pierced me until I thought it would draw blood. I kept from breathing, from allowing my power to even twitch, petting it like a big, savage cat until it purred, vibrating inside my body. I didn’t use Glamour for a reason, and now it was more important than ever to avoid using it. I didn’t want the elven King to know I was here. I didn’t want anyone to know.
    Not yet.
    The crowd in the inn stood or sat, frozen in place, eyes wide, mouths hanging open. Whispers rushed on the air, urgent mutterings.
    The Fairy Court rarely passed through the humans’ lands, even less often since the drake attack on the wedding feast and the death of the bride, a death King Esh had allowed, had failed to stop.
    Syrana . She’d had to marry Esh. But she had loved me.
    Following on the tail of his power, King Esh came though the door. The moment he entered, a collective gasp went through the small crowd. Music of flutes and strings twirled on the air currents, and the King raised his dark head with the tall crown of silver. His pale eyes held everyone in thrall; the humans bowed and scraped and parted to let him through.
    I curtsied, to keep my disguise. It wouldn’t do to bow, though I itched to do so. I longed to be myself once more, to stop pretending.
    The King threw one end of his white mantle over one shoulder; crystals sparkled in his hair, a diamond drop rested on his high forehead.
    Without the use of my Glamour, I was affected by the King’s, like a mere human. His face was a beacon, snaring my gaze; his every movement caught my breath. The magic swirled around him, clung to him like viscous, scented oil, distorting the surface, imbuing everything with a faint glow.
    I licked my lips, swallowed my speeding pulse. Stay, my heart; do not leap .
    On silent feet, I circled the humans who stood like statues frozen in a dance, some kneeling now, some bowing, arms outstretched to touch and feel. I hid behind their still forms, just as the King’s entourage walked into the inn.
    Elven princes, dressed in pale velvet, peacock wings on their backs, long dark hair draped like mantles over their tall bodies as they sidled after King Esh.
    Elven princesses in blue silk and satin, their flaxen hair so long it hung to the ground, woven with pearls and feathers. They stifled laughter behind their white, narrow hands, and shook their heads so that stardust fluttered to the floor. White foxes and weasels followed them; white ravens sat on their heads like crowns, and balanced with spread wings, crowing.
    My chest ached. I thought I had overcome the nostalgia, that I was well guarded from the pain this sight brought – but I was wrong. I looked down at my feet, my dirty clogs peeking under my grey, stained dress, and I longed once more for fairy beauty beyond human understanding, beyond imagining, for the heart-rending allure of fae.
    But one cannot go back. Time can only roll forward, even for me.
    Determined, I held the dagger at my side, still hidden behind the wall of human bodies, all possible outcomes crowding my mind.
    The King headed to the long table near the hearth, his long mantle dragging on the floor. His fairy courtiers flicked their fingers, sending waves of Glamour to shove the sluggish humans off the bench and to the floor. The elves stepped over the humans’ bodies, shoved them lightly with their pointy shoes as they passed, rolled them over like pet animals.
    The King took his seat at the table’s head. I weighed the advantages of facing him, but then I shook my head. No, better keep up the disguise longer, go from behind, yes, like a coward – but I had underestimated the King’s power before, and look what happened to me. Stripped of my privileges, without a trial or reason, I’d been evicted from the