The Faeyrwynn Prophecy

The Faeyrwynn Prophecy: Chapter Twelve

Hey all! Thought I'd surprise you and give you an update. Finally sewed all the pieces together, sorry if it's a bit choppy here and there. I've finally left the notebook of rough drafting, and now I just type. I'll probably go back to paper once the school year kicks up again, though. Hope you enjoy! Not much POV-switching in this one.

~

Looking back on it now, I knew I should've paid attention to my aunt's insistence on teaching me how to classically dance. However, now was not the time to focus on that particular regret.

Trying to act natural, I took Meila's hand in my own. Struggling to keep my face composed, I laid my other hand on her narrow waist.

"You have no idea what you're doing, do you?" she asked, laughing lightly.

I sighed, shaking my head sheepishly.

"You caught me," I replied, smiling ruefully.

"I'll lead, then."

Meila tightened her hold on my hand, stepping forward. I stepped backward, and soon adjusted to mirroring her moves. When it came time to twirl her, she winked before spinning elegantly and returning to my arms.

She looked so happy then, carefree and open. Her smile was no longer guarded, but genuine and natural.

We danced a few songs, caught up in the crowd of other couples. The songs were unfamiliar, but the beat was festive and quick. A live band played in the corner, bearing strange instruments.

The tune changed then, to one slower and more somber.  A slow dance.  Every teenage boy's worst nightmare. Okay, maybe not worst, but definitely awkward.

Meila spared me the embarrassment though, and rested her head against my chest without a word. I held her hand lightly, her cool fingers resting between my warmer ones. I lead, turning us in an easy circle.  The song was both sad and sweet, sung in a language I didn't recognize.

I would've been content to stay with Meila like this the rest of the night, but as all good things do, the song ended.

She pulled away, searching my eyes for a moment.

"Thanks," she murmured quietly, before slipping away through the crowd.

I was left standing dazed and confused in the midst of the dancing fey, wondering why she'd looked at me that way.

"She's a piece of work, that's for sure, brother," Cyr said mildly, clapping me on the shoulder.

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see," he replied, smiling wryly and downing his wineglass.

"You're fifteen," I reminded him, taking the glass from him. 

"Yeah, yeah," he laughed, before taking off to find another waiter. I left in the opposite direction, returning to my seat at the table, I caught the attention of a servant, and kindly asked them if they could return me to my room.

"Oh, and no more drinks for Cyr," I added hastily.

~

Falling to the ground for what felt like the tenth time that day, I gritted my teeth. With a slight grunt, I stood again. I would not give up. 

"Had enough, half-ling?" Ashalyn taunted, circling me confidently. Her long arms were bare, white tattoos painting her mocha skin. Coal-black eyes stared at me challengingly, assessing my every move.

"Never," I muttered under my breath, before lunging at her again. 

Twisting deftly out of my reach, she caught the back of my right knee with her training sword.  Instead of falling though, I stumbled and swung at her again.