A Dangerous Dance [BOOK ONE]

Chapter Twenty-Two

THE DAY NEVER SEEMED TO END. Blake was restless and irritable, impatiently waiting for the sun to set.

More studying in the library had brought forth more information, adding to the missing blanks in the entire mystery. Blake had found an old diary of an ancient king of High Marland, dating back far before High Marland had even been given its name, when magic still ruled the land. In the diary, the King spoke of how an evil magic terrorized the land and how he'd asked the good fae of the land to help him banish the darkness away. He never spoke of what magic it was, but his recounts spoke of the good fae banishing the magic to live in enteral darkness, trapped by a magical barrier preventing things from getting out.

Blake was willing to bet anything that same evil magic was the Shadow Queen. The king had expressed his concerns in the diary that although the good fae had done their job, he was afraid that the barrier would not hold the magic for long.

And Blake felt the same way. If somehow the barrier had worn down over the many years, there could be a possibility that the Shadow Queen could break out from her prison. The king stated that at the end of the battle, the magic had been weakened, but there was a concern that it would grow in power again. And everything Blake had learned about the Shadow Queen, the way she drew power by luring innocents into contracts, connected to what the king wrote.

Time was running out. They had to get the princesses out of the Shadow Queen's clutches before it was too late.

"Would you be still?" Snapped Jamie, seemly growing tired of Blake's endless pacing.

"No!" Blake snapped right back.

Locklyn looked up, startled by their outbursts. Blake released a frustrated breath and raked his fingers through his hair.

"I apologize." He said on a sigh, knowing that it was a lousy excuse of an apology, but Jamie didn't ask for more.

The three of them sat in the princesses' chambers, Locklyn reading and Jamie playing some sort of game with a deck of cards. Blake paced in front of the fire place, the room feeling small and lonely without any of the princesses to fill it with laughter and chatter. The last brilliant streaks of orange and pink of the sunset could be seen through the windows, dusk settling in.

Blake went over to the window, the very seat that Althea loved to sit. He could imagine her there now, sitting as she watched over the girls, her favorite shawl draped over her shoulders and that small smile she always wore when she was around her sisters.

He took a seat, looking out at the darkening gardens. Only a small sliver of the blood orange sun was just visible on the horizon, casting long shadows.

The loud bang of the doors opening startled all three men. A very angry young man wearing the brown tunic of a gardener burst into the sitting room, wielding a pair of bush shears.

"Alec?" Locklyn said in disbelief. Blake stood from the window seat, staring at the newcomer.

Alec held up the shears as a weapon, "I'm coming with you, I'll fight you if I have to."

Blake frowned, perplexed by the turn of events. He didn't understand how a gardener like the man before him was involved with the princesses.

"Alec, please, calm yourself." Locklyn said sternly, standing and approaching the man gingerly as though he was a wounded animal.

"No!" Alec snapped, "I will not, Sir. You have your reasons, I have mine. You are not the only one who loves the princesses." Blake met the man's steady gaze and he saw many of the same emotions written in his eyes that Blake himself felt.

"I will not leave until I know Blythe is safe. And Althea and Ophelia and Phoebe. All of them." He stated firmly.

Something passed between Blake and Alec, an understanding, a mutual knowing. Alec loved the princesses just as much as Blake did. And despite their titles, they were brothers in arms.

"Here, arm yourself. You can't very well fight an evil magical being with shears." Blake said, tossing his own sword to the male.

Alec, seeming surprised by Blake's decision, caught the sword easily out of the air. Locklyn looked at Blake.

"Blake, are you sure this is a wise decision?" He asked the man.

Blake simply shrugged, "Why not? We need all the help we can get if we are to face this evil and rescue the princesses."

No one said a word after that, as Blake left to retrieve another sword for himself and Jamie went back to his card game. Alec sat at the window seat previously occupied by Blake, his knuckles turning white from gripping the sword tightly.

When Blake returned, the small tiny sliver of the sun had gone and the night had set in fully.

The sun was down. Night had come. And it was time.

The men readied themselves, grim-faced and somber as weapons were checked and bundles of herbs pinned to jackets and collars. The herbs were only a small defense against magic, but it brought comfort.

The memory of his grandmother, a stern and unyieldingly woman, teaching him about the herbs brought up a faint smile on Blake's face, there in the midst of danger. As a child, he had often sat with her out in garden, in the tiny shed she had made into her haven, and helped her as she dried and bundled lavender and sage and rosemary and nightlock. His grandmother had taught him everything he knew, read to him from the ancient books and records, told him how to spot good fae and ward off bad fae, and how to defeat evil magic if he were ever to come across it.

And it was only because of her teachings and guidance that he was now able to equip himself against the Shadow Queen.

Locklyn, Jamie, and Alec all faced him, eating for Blake to lead the way. He took a deep breath, praying to any God that could hear him, and led the men into the bed chamber.

All of them gathered in front of the wardrobe. Blake had an odd sensation of déjà vu, standing around the wardrobe with the men. And he realized that he had just seen the princesses themselves do this very thing, gathering around to decent into the underworld below them. The men were no different than the princesses.

Only this time, Blake thought grimly, they would be bringing the princesses back and none of them would ever go back to that horrid place ever again.

Taking a long breath, Blake reached up and began to trace the pattern carved into the wood. Where he touched, silvery light sprung to existence. When he finished, the room was glowing with light.

He didn't need to look back to know that his allies were there. None of them were running, all of them wanted to see this end just as much as Blake himself.

And so, he pulled opened the wardrobe, revealing the inky blackness and shinning silver staircase.

And he began the decent. Towards the princesses, towards the Shadow Queen, and towards either victory or defeat.

If only he could tell who would win.