Free Twelve Days of Faery by W. R. Gingell Page B

part of the inner circle but also danced alone. Or the dozen that dotted the crowd all around, their eyes constantly moving, shifting and slipping through the dancers around them. Or even, he realised, his eyes slipping further afield, the slender young fae who was ostensibly drunk and well supplied with edible goodies, sitting in a tree just out of the dancers. That was certainly a quiver tucked behind him in the boughs—Markon could see the fletching of the arrows against the moonlight—and he was almost certain that he could see the curve of the bow as it blended in with the other branches.
    “We wouldn’t get as far as the inner circle before her guards stopped us,” Althea said, unconsciously echoing Markon’s thoughts. “This way, at least we look the part. And if we play our cards right, she’ll come to us .”
    “Which way is the right way to play our cards?”
    “She’s female,” said Althea. Unnecessarily, as he thought, until she added: “Fae women are good leaders, but they have their weak points. For instance, in a Fae Lady’s court, whether Unseelie or Seelie, the unconscious bias will always be against men and for women.”
    “For example?” prompted Markon, aware that Althea was leading up to an already decided plan.
    “For example,” said Althea, giving him a prim, approving smile; “If a Fae Lady were to see a boorish human—or even a boorish fae—trying to foist his attentions upon a fae woman, she would intervene immediately and most likely personally.”
    “Most likely?”
    “There’s a chance she could order her archer over there to shoot you instead,” said Althea. “But only a very slight one, and if we move out of his eye-line you’ll be safe. She’s powerful enough to feel confident intervening by herself.”
    “What do you mean by foisting attentions , exactly?” asked Markon, with deep foreboding.
    “You’ll have to pretend to back me up against something and try to kiss me.”
    “Oh.” There didn’t seem to be much to say to that, apart from: “What do you mean, try?”
    “I’ll be resisting, of course,” said Althea.
    “But–”
    “I won’t slap you very hard,” she promised.
    “ Althea ,” said Markon, somewhat exasperatedly. Heavens knew it wasn’t that he didn’t want to kiss her. The problem was that he did , and he was certain that he shouldn’t.
    “It’s either that or you’ll have to pretend to be about to drive a dagger into me,” pointed out Althea. “It’s far harder to play that convincingly, and if you did it’s far more likely she’d send her guards to deal with you. You’ve– oh! ”
    Markon had the pleasure of seeing her for once utterly surprised, blue eyes wide and startled as he pinned her arms to her sides and kissed her. She put up an impressive struggle, but Markon had the advantage and it wasn’t until he let her go that she could slap him. He thought he might have been grinning when her palm connected with his cheek, and though he gasped he wasn’t sure it quite did away with the smile in his eyes.
    “I believe the lady is requesting your absence,” said a cold, silvery voice at his ear.
    Markon jerked away from the sound much as he would have torn himself away from a poisonous snake, and the Lady twined herself around him until she was between him and Althea, the edge of one cool, pale cheek toward him and her gaze resting on Althea.
    “Are you well, little one?” she asked.
    “Yes,” said Althea, but her voice was slightly breathless, which pleased Markon greatly. He couldn’t see her for the Lady’s willowy, black-edged form, but what he had seen before she intervened was a deep, warm flush in Althea’s cheeks. “Thank you for your assistance, Lady.”
    The Lady’s eyes flicked from Althea and back to Markon. She said: “Perhaps I’ve mistaken the situation. Do you require my assistance, little one?”
    “No,” said Althea, bringing one hand out from the folds of her borrowed skirt. “I believe