A Fey for Valentines Day

Shadow and Fire

His brother.

The words echo in my head as the dark prince crosses the ballroom floor. The dancers scatter before him like leaves blown aside in a storm, pressing against each other, their masked faces turned down. Their aversion makes my instincts scream danger. Even more than when Alaric had approached me.

He moves with a predator's grace, each step deliberate and calibrated. The shadows seem to follow him, clinging to the space around him, some trailing behind like a cloak. Where Alaric radiates warmth and light, this man radiates something else entirely—cold, dark, hungry. His intensity makes my pulse race with a feeling that I can't quite claim as fear — it's excitement.

Alaric shifts beside me, placing himself between me and his brother. The warmth around us flaring brighter, and that's not just a metaphor — Alaric actually glows, a soft golden light emanating from his skin like heat rising from the pavement in the middle of summer.

"Kael." He greets him, voice tight. "I didn't expect you to be in attendance this evening."

"No?" Kael stops a few feet away, and up close he is even more striking than he was across the room. Sharp cheekbones, a strong jawline, curved lips that are currently turned up in a sly smirk. His eyes slide past Alaric and fix on me. "Well, sorry to burst your bubble brother, but you can't have her all to yourself."

"That's not quite how this works, Kael. She has a name. She also has a choice in the matter. This doesn't have to be a competition between the two of us."

"Everything between us is a competition, brother. Or have you forgotten that?" Kael's smile sharpens. "Our father certainly hasn't. Neither has our uncle."

Something passes between them—a history I can't begin to understand. Alaric's hand tightens on mine until his fingers are making indentations in my skin.

"Sophia isn't a prize to be won, Kael. This isn't a game."

"That's exactly what this is, Alaric. This entire masquerade is a game." Kael's gaze returns to me, and the full weight of his attention feels like standing in a blizzard without a jacket. "And she is the prize. Along with our lives, brother."

"I'm standing right here," I finally say in frustration, drawing both their attention. "And I can speak for myself."

They both go still. Kael's eyebrows rise above his black mask, and a look of surprise flickers in those cold eyes.

"Is that so?" He takes a step closer, attempting to step around Alaric, who moves to block him, but I put my hand on his arm to stop him.

"It's fine," I say to Alaric, even though I'm not entirely sure that it actually is. "Let him speak, I want to hear what he has to say."

Alaric hesitates, every line of his body resistant, but he takes me at my word and steps aside. Just enough for Kael to move into the space between us.

Up close, he's taller than Alaric by at least two inches, broader in the shoulders too. This close I catch his scent — like forest pines and burning firewood. It's surprisingly soothing.

"So," he says, staring down at me, his voice a low rumble that I feel deep in my chest."You're the one she drew in this time, huh? The lovely mortal who must find true love or condemn us all to death."

"How does everyone know about these rules?: This place? This stupid masquerade?" I protest with irritation. "Yet we've never heard of where I'm from! No one ever mentioned an evil fairy godmother!"

They exchange a glance, then look back at me like I've grown a second head. Alaric asks, "There's no magic where your from then?"

"No!" I throw my hands up in exasperation. "No real magic anyway. There are stories, fairytales. But no one believes they are real."

Kael blinks. Actually blinks, dumbfounded by my proclamation. Like I've said something genuinely incomprehensible. "No magic at all? How do you... function?"

"We have electricity. And Wi-Fi. And therapy." I cross my arms and c**k one hip in a not amused pose. "Which, frankly, you two could probably use."

A sharp laugh escapes Kael then — genuine rather than cold and mocking as I would have expected. Even Alaric's lip twitches, his eyes lighting up with what I assume is a sort of affection for his brother despite the obvious tension between them.

"She's funny," Kael says to his brother, sounding almost impressed. "You didn't mention she was funny."

"We've known each other for approximately ten minutes," Alaric replies dryly.

"And yet you've already charmed her into a dance. Claiming her as yours already?"

"I didn't claim anyone. I asked. There's a difference."

Kael's attention returns to me, and the humor fades from his eyes. "Tell me, Sophia from the land of no magic—did my brother tell you what's at stake here? What is really at stake?"

"Death," I say flatly. "Lots of it at midnight. Unless I find true love," I make batty eyes and clasp my hands together in a dramatic display of mock infatuation. "I got the highlights moments before Alaric and I met."

"Those are your stakes in this game," Kael gestures between himself and Alaric. "But did he mention what the stakes are for us? What happens if and when you choose one or the other of us?"

I look at Alaric. His jaw tight, his golden light glow dimmed slightly. He doesn't meet my eyes this time.

"Alaric? What does he mean?" I ask quietly, "You didn't mention that there was more at foot than what I'd already been told."

"It's...complicated."

"Complicated," Kael repeats with a bitter edge to his voice. "That's one word for it. Here's another: rigged."

Alaric looks at him then, eyes softening. "Kael, that's not..."

But Kael doesn't let him finish, holding my gaze as he continues. "This game has been played before, Sophia. Many, many times. And somehow, the mortal always ends up choosing the golden prince. The good one. The safe one. The prince charming." His voice drops, menacingly. "Leaving his twin to rot. I wonder why that is."

"If the two are like you two every time, then perhaps, because you're terrifying?" I offer gently.

He pauses. Then, slowly, a real smile spreads across his face—not the predatory smirk or a mockery, but a smile that is almost human.

"Fair point." He agrees dipping his head slightly and bringing his hand to his heart in a slight bow.

"Kael-" Alaric starts, tone warning.

"No, she's right," Kael holds up his hand. "Her honesty is refreshing. I am terrifying, Sophia. I was raised to be so." The smile fades then. "But terrifying does not mean unworthy of love. Does it?"

"No," I agree. "It does not."

Alaric's face has gone pale beneath his golden mask. "That's not a fair comparison."

"None of this is fair, brother. That's rather the point," Kael says in a clipped voice, extending his hand to me this time. It's not a threat, it's an invitation. "Dance with me, Sophia. One dance. Let me show you there's more to this story than light and dark."

I look at his outstretched hand. Then at Alaric, whose amber eyes are pleading with me to refuse.

"You don't have to," Alaric says quietly.

"I know." I meet Kael's winter-gray eyes. "But I want to."

Because he's right. And because I've spent my entire life making safe choices. Dating safe men. Painting safe paintings. Staying safe in my own little bubble, in my safe little apartment, and I've spent years wondering what I was doing wrong. Safe hasn't gotten me anywhere.

"One dance," I say, and accept Kael's hand.

His fingers close around mine — cool in contrast to Alaric's warmth, but not unpleasant. Like pressing your hand against a taxi window as they drive down 5th avenue in winter.

"One dance," he agrees. Leading me toward the dance floor, away from Alaric. Away from what I know deep down in my gut, is safe.

I swallow hard, wondering if I've just made a horrible mistake.