“It’s all right,” Kenzie said, gripping my arm and slowly sitting up. She took a deep breath, and color returned to her cheeks and lips, easing my panic. “It’s fine, Ethan. I’m fine. I just…couldn’t catch my breath for a second. What happened?”
“Leanansidhe,” Annwyl said, joining Keirran a few feet away. Their gazes were solemn as they watched us, beautiful and inhuman under the moon. “The Dark Muse has taken her price.”
Dread gripped my stomach with a cold hand. But Kenzie wasn’t looking at me, or any of us, anymore. Her mouth was open in a small O, as she slowly stood up, staring at the ring of fey surrounding us. “Have…have they been here the whole time?” she whispered.
Keirran gave her a small, faintly sad smile. “Welcome to our world.”
One of the Summer sidhe came forward, tall and elegant in a cloak of leaves, golden hair braided down his back. “Come,” he said, holding out a long-fingered hand. “A mortal gaining the Sight is cause for celebration. One more to see us, one more to remember. Tonight, we will dance for you. Prince Keirran....” He turned and bowed his head to the silver haired fey across from me. “With your permission…”
Keirran nodded solemnly. And the music rose up once more, eerily compelling, haunting and beautiful. The fey began to dance, swirling around us, flashes of color and graceful limbs. And suddenly, Kenzie was in that crowd, swept from my side before I could stop it, eyes bright as she danced among the fey.
I started forward, heart pounding, but Keirran held out his arm. “It’s all right,” he said. I turned to glare at him, but his face was calm. “Let her have this. Nothing will harm her tonight. I promise.”
The promise thing threw me. If you were a faery and you said the word promise, you were bound to carry it through, no matter what. And if they couldn’t keep that promise, they would die, so it was a pretty serious thing. I didn’t know if Keirran’s human side protected him from that particular rule, or if he really meant it, but I forced myself to relax, watching Kenzie twirl and spin among the unearthly dancers.
Resentment bubbled. A part of me, a large part, actually, wanted to grab Kenzie and pull her back, away from the faeries and their world and the things that wanted to hurt her. I couldn’t help it. The fey had tormented me all my life; nothing good had come out of knowing them, seeing them. My sister had ventured into their world, become their queen, and they’d taken her from me.
And now, Kenzie was a part of that world, too.
“Hey.”
I turned. Kenzie had broken away from the circle and now stood behind me, the moonlight shining off her raven hair. She’d dropped her coat and looked like some kind of faery herself, graceful and slight, smiling at me. My breath caught as she extended a hand. “Come and dance,” she urged.
I took a step back. “No thanks.”
“Ethan.”
“I don’t want to dance with the faeries,” I protested, still backing away. “It breaks my Things-Your-Classmates-Won’t-Beat-You-Up-For rule.”
Kenzie wasn’t impressed. She rolled her eyes, grabbed my hand and tugged me forward even as I half resisted.
“You’re not dancing with the faeries,” she said, as I made one last attempt to stop, to hang on to my dignity. “You’re dancing with me.”
“Kenzie…”
“Tough guy,” she answered, pulling me close. My heart stuttered, looking into her eyes. “Live a little. For me.”
I sighed in defeat, let go of my resolve.
And danced with the fey.
It was easy, once you actually let yourself go. The faery music made it nearly impossible not to lose yourself, to close your eyes and let it consume you. I still kept a tiny hold on my willpower as I swayed with Kenzie, back and forth in the center of the ring, while beautifully inhuman Summer fey twirled around us.
Kenzie moved closer, leaning her head on my chest while her arms snaked around my waist. “You’re actually really good at this,” she murmured, while my heartbeat started thudding loudly in her ear. “Did they teach dancing in kali?”
I snorted. “Only the kind with sticks and knives,” I muttered, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through my stomach, making it hard to think. “Though my old school did make us take a class in ballroom dancing. For our final grade, we had to wear formal attire and waltz around the gym in front of the whole school.”
“Ouch.” Kenzie giggled.
“That’s not the worst of it. Half the class played sick that day, and I was one of the only guys to show up, so of course they made me dance with everyone. My mom still has the pictures.” I looked down at the top of her head. “And if you tell anyone about that, I may have to kill you.”
She giggled again, muffling her laughter in my shirt. I kept my hands on her slim hips, feeling her body sway against mine. As the eerie music swirled around us, I knew that if I remembered anything about this night, it would be this moment, right now. With Kenzie less than a breath away, the moonlight spilling down on her as she danced, graceful as any faery.
“Ethan?”
“Yeah?”
She paused, tracing the fabric along my ribs, not knowing how crazy it was making me. “How ’bout that interview now?”
I let out a long breath. “What do you want to know?”
“You said people around you get hurt, that I wasn’t the only one the fey targeted because of you,” she continued, and my stomach dropped. “Will you… Can you tell me what happened? Who was the other person?”
Groaning, I closed my eyes. “It’s not something I like to talk about,” I muttered. “It took years for the nightmares to finally stop. I haven’t told anyone about it, ever…”
“It might help,” Kenzie said quietly. “Getting it off your chest, I mean. But if you don’t want to, I understand.”
I held her, listening to the music, to the faeries spinning around us. I remembered that day; the horror and fear that people would find out, the crushing guilt because I knew I couldn’t tell anyone. Would Kenzie hate me if I told her? Would she finally understand why I kept my distance? Maybe it was time…to tell someone. It would be a relief, perhaps. To voice the secret that had been hanging over me for years. To finally let it go.
All right, then. I’ll…try.
“It was about six years ago,” I began, swallowing the dryness in my throat. “We—my parents and I—had just moved into the city from our little backwater farm. My parents raised pigs, you know, before we came here. There’s an interesting freebie for your interview. The tough guy’s parents were pig farmers.”
Kenzie was quiet, and I instantly regretted the cynical jab. “Anyway—” I sighed, squeezing her hand in apology “—I met this girl, Samantha. She lived on my block, and we went to the same school, so we became friends pretty quick. I was really shy back then—” Kenzie snorted, making me smile “—and Sam was pretty bossy, much like someone else whose name I won’t mention.” She pinched my ribs, and I grunted. “So, I usually ended up following her wherever she wanted to go.”
“I’m having a hard time picturing that,” Kenzie murmured with a faint smile. “I keep seeing this scowling little kid, stomping around and glaring at everyone.”
“Believe what you want, I was actually pretty docile back then. The scowling and setting things on fire came later.”
Kenzie shook her head, feathery black strands brushing my cheek. “So, what happened?” she asked softly.
I sobered. “Sam was horse crazy,” I continued, seeing the red-haired girl in the back of my mind, wearing her cowboy hat. “Her room was full of horse posters and model ponies. She went to equestrian camp every summer, and the only thing she ever wanted for her birthday was an Appaloosa filly. We lived in the suburbs, so it was impossible for her to keep a horse in her backyard, but she was saving up for one just the same.”
Kenzie’s palm lingered on my chest, right over my heart, which was pounding against her fingers. “And then, one day,” I continued, swallowing hard, “we were at the park, for her birthday, and this small black horse came wandering out of the trees. I knew what it was, of course. It had un-glamoured itself, so that Sam could see it, too, and didn’t run away when she walked up to it.”
“It was a faery?” Kenzie whispered.
“A phouka,” I muttered darkly. “And it knew what it was doing, the way it kept staring at me. I was terrified. I wanted to leave, to go back and find the grown-ups, but Sam wouldn’t listen to me. She kept rubbing its neck and feeding it bread crumbs, and the thing acted so friendly and tame that she was convinced it was just someone’s pony that had gotten loose. Of course, that’s what it wanted her to think.”
“Phoukas,” Kenzie muttered, her voice thoughtful. “I think I read about them. They disguise themselves as horses or ponies, to lure people onto their backs.” She drew in a sharp breath. “Did Sam try to ride it?”
I closed my eyes. “I told her not to.” My voice came out shaky at the end. “I begged her not to ride it, but she threatened she would make me sorry if I went and blabbed. And I didn’t do anything. I watched her lead it to a picnic bench and swing up like she did with every horse in her summer camp. I knew what it was, and I didn’t stop her.” A familiar chill ran up my spine as I remembered, just before Sam hopped on, the phouka turned its head and gave me a grin that was more demonic than anything I’d ever seen. “As soon as she was on its back,” I whispered, “it was gone. It took off through the trees, and I could hear her screaming the whole way.”
Kenzie clenched her fingers in my shirt. “Did she—”
“They found her later in the woods,” I interrupted. “Maybe a mile from where we had first seen the phouka. She was still alive but…” I stopped, took a careful breath to clear my throat. “But her back was broken. She was paralyzed from the waist down.”
“Oh, Ethan.”
“Her parents moved after that.” My voice sounded flat in my ears, like a stranger’s. “Sam didn’t remember the black pony—that’s another quirk about the fey. The memory fades, and people usually forget about them. No one blamed me, of course. It was a freak accident, only…I knew it wasn’t. I knew if I had said more, argued more, I could have saved her. Sam would’ve been angry with me, but she would still be okay.”
“It—”
“Don’t say ‘it’s not your fault,’” I whispered harshly. There was a stinging sensation in my throat, and my eyes were suddenly blurry. Releasing her, I turned away, not wanting her to see me fall apart. “I knew what that thing was,” I gritted out. “It was there because of me, not Sam. I could have physically stopped her from getting on, but I didn’t, because I was afraid she wouldn’t like me. All her dreams of riding her own horse, of competing in rodeos, she lost it all. Because I was too scared to do anything.”