A Fey for Valentines Day

Dancing with Shadows

The moment Kael's arm slides around my waist, my temperature drops.

Not the bone-deep cold that emanated through the ballroom upon his arrival, but a coolness that settles over my skin like a protective barrier. The warmth of Alaric fades behind us as Kael leads me deeper onto the dance floor, and I have to resist the urge to look back. To seek out the golden glow and warmth of the other brother.

I made the choice to see what Kael had to offer. Now I have to live with the anxiety of the next few minutes.

The music starts back up, the dancers take their positions, and Kael positions us in the middle of the dance floor, leading. He spins me into the first steps of yet another waltz, and unlike Alaric, there's no gentle guidance here. Kael leads with absolute confidence, with command, his movements sharp and precise. While dancing with Alaric had felt like floating. Dancing with Kael feels like being caught in a strong ocean current.

"You're trembling," he observes, his voice low enough that none of the surrounding dancers would be able to hear.

"I'm cold."

"Liar." His hand presses more firmly against my lower back, drawing my body closer to his. "You're not cold. You're scared. Afraid I might bite little mortal?"

"No," I protest a little too quickly, "And why does everyone keep calling me 'mortal' aren't you a mortal as you say?"

He laughs softly at that, glancing over at Alaric before refocusing on me and answering my question. "It figures he wouldn't tell you. My brother was always into keeping secrets. No, we are not mortal. Far from in fact."

"Oh." I think hard on all the fantasy and fairy tale stories I'd read as a child, cataloging and reciting the various creatures and magical entities quickly. "I know you have magic, but I didn't think that meant... does that make you immortal? A mage perhaps, well ... no that can't be you'd need to feed on magic, she wouldn't have brought you into the ball if that was the case... an elf maybe?"

Kael's laugh deepens as I ramble on and on, a genuine, enigmatic laugh that I find myself enjoying. "No, no, Sophia. Let me stop you right there. Nothing quite so complex. We are fae."

I blink digesting this new piece of information for several moments. Fae...what do I know about fae?... not a damn thing, actually.

"Fae?"

"There are many kinds of beings in other realms. Fae are amongst the oldest, though our numbers continue to dwindle. We live... very long lives, shall we say. In our realm there are two kinds of fae, light and dark. I'm sure you can figure out who is what between Alaric and I. Our mother was of the light, while our father is of the dark. Like I am."

"Was?" I ask hesitantly. Catching the past tense of one parent in contrast to the present tense of the other.

He ignores my question, brandishing one of his own instead.

"Why did you decide to dance with me, Sophia?"

The bluntness of the question distracts me from my own questions, stammering to find an answer. Why did I accept? I can't just blurt out that I wanted a little danger in my life, there's plenty of that with this entire ball.

"Because you asked," I finally managed.

"My brother asked as well. You could have stayed with him, safe and sound."

There's that word again... safe.

The other dancers continue to give us a wide berth, their masked faces carefully averted. We might as well be alone in the center of the dance floor.

"I could have," I admit with a shrug. "But then I wouldn't know for certain."

"Know what?"

"If you're really as terrible as everyone seems to think you are."

Kael's lips curve, but there's little humor in it. "And what's the verdict?"

I consider the question as he guides me through a turn. His hand cool against mine, his body radiating that soothing winter-forest scent. Up close, I can see details I'd missed before — the faint shadows beneath his eyes, like he hasn't slept well in a very, very long time. The slight exhaustion in his eyes hidden behind the defiance and indifference. The tension in his jaw, held so tight for so long that it must truly ache.

"The jury's still out," I say softly. "But I'm leaning toward not."

"How diplomatic of you."

"I'm from New York. Everyone's diplomatic there. The city teaches you to reserve judgment until you have all the facts."

"And what facts do you still need to cast your judgment, little mortal?"

I meet his eyes, "Why do you hate your brother?"

Kael's step falters just enough that I notice — before he recovers, all joy leaving his face replaced once more by the cold, icy mask.

"Who says that I hate him?" He retorts dryly.

"It's an observation. The way that you look at him. And the way that you infer that he is the light when you are the dark."

"We were born that way."

"You were born of different elements, that does not make you his shadow Kael. It does not make one of you greater or lesser than the other."

"Our father and uncle would greatly disagree with that."

"Then they are short-sighted."

We dance in silence for what feels like minutes, yet I know it is mere seconds as I watch the war play out behind his eyes. The mask wants to stay. But the man beneath it is slipping it, ever so slightly.

"I don't hate Alaric," he says quietly. "I hate what he represents. All the opportunities that were lost to us simply because of the circumstances of our birth."

"Like," I urge him gently.

"He is everything that I was supposed to be. Everything I've failed to become." His grip on my waist tightens, not painfully, but anchoring. "We're twins. Born mere minutes apart. He was born first, touched by the light — our mother's light — while I, well, I am just like our father. And she died, because of me. Our mother died after my birth." He continues, his voice pained now, "Our father, he's always blamed me. Our darkness, his and mine, poisoned her. Light Fae shouldn't be able to convince Dark Fae children, I shouldn't exist."

"Kael..." The pain in his dark eyes tears into my heart, he meant it, every word of it. Believed it to the core of his soul. That it was his fault, that he was the reason she died. "Women die in childbirth, Kael. That is not your fault."

I stop dancing, reaching my hands up to cup his face instinctively. His entire body freezes on contact, like a wild animal shocked at that first touch. His eyes meet mine slowly, and for the first time, I see the reflection of a little boy who was told he was poison and death, scared and alone.

"Just because you were born Dark Fae, does not mean that your inherently bad, Kael. That's not how biology works." I drop my hands, retreating slightly. He doesn't let me get far, clasping his hands in my own and pulling me back against him, resuming guiding me through the steps of the dance with a deep breath. The mask slipping back into place as he snaps his spine straight once more. The moment broken.

"Someone has to do the dirty work, Sophia. The things a golden prince cannot," he says, his voice void of the emotions that had been in it moments before. "Alaric got the throne. I got the shadows. And our Father, our Uncle, made sure we would never forget which is more valuable."

"That's why you said the game is rigged," I say softly. "Because you never expected to be the one chosen. You never believed you even had a chance, did you?"

"I am the wrong choice. But that doesn't stop me from wanting what I can't have, Sophia." His voice is barely a whisper again. "Look at me, really look at me and feel what I bring to the room. I'm everything that the stories warn about, dark and cold, walking death. My brother,"" he pauses, swallowing. "He tries. Hes always tried. But trying isn't the same as succeeding, even he shies from my presence. I've spent so long being angry with him for existing that I suppose I don't know how to stop."

"Have you ever told him that?"

The music begins to slow, and our dancing slows with it. We're barely moving anymore- just swaying, really, two people holding onto each other in a room full of strangers.

Kael laughs lightly. "Have I told him what? That I don't actually hate him? That every time he looks at me with those golden eyes of his that I want to shake him?" He shakes his head. "What good would that do? It wouldn't change a single thing about our circumstances. It wouldn't bring our mother back, or switch our places. It wouldn't undo two-hundred and twenty-five years of the poison that's been whispered in our ears."

"I'm sorry, did you just say two-hundred and twenty-five years?" I sputter.

Now, he's genuinely laughing again, at the exasperated look on my face or in my tone I'm not sure.

"Yes, Sophia. As I said, Fae live very, very long lives."