The Realm—The Lobby
Immediately Afterward
After Maeve’s rivals departed, the party intensified, as if in a frantic attempt to prove that there was nothing to worry about. Champagne flowed and music blared while the fairies danced, ate, and drank. Maeve came down the stairs and lounged on a sofa with a few of her courtiers. She acted as though she was already queen, but her gaze strayed anxiously toward the doors.
Emily figured that Sophie must have found or learned something that Maeve needed to take the throne, but what? It didn’t matter, Emily told herself firmly, since it wasn’t going to happen. She had no intention of sticking around and playing bait. Even if she couldn’t get home, she could get away from Maeve, stir up a little chaos, and maybe run into Sophie. If Sophie was in the Realm, she’d be easy enough to find. Emily would just have to listen for the screams.
Feigning enjoyment, she ambled through the crowd toward the lobby’s front doors. No one seemed to be paying any attention to her, and she concentrated on being invisible. If what Eamon said about her aura was true, maybe they wouldn’t notice her in all the party excitement. Just before she reached the door, a large man in a skinny tie moved to block it, making direct eye contact with her as he did so, as if to send the message that she wasn’t going anywhere. Damn. Not that she’d expected to be able to just walk out, but it would have made things so much easier. She changed course, as though she’d been heading that way all along and had never even considered going through that doorway.
Now what? If she couldn’t get away, then she needed information. If she could figure out what Maeve was up to, she’d have a better chance of stopping her, and the info would definitely help Sophie. Spotting the guy who’d reminded her of Clark Gable from Niall and Orla’s Nick-and-Nora ballroom gave her an idea.
Approaching him boldly, she grabbed his arm to turn him to face her and purred, “How about another dance, handsome?”
Without a word, he took her into his arms, and they began moving as one. Most of the other dancers were doing early sixties-style dances, but a few couples danced more closely together, so she and her partner didn’t look too out of place. “So, we meet again,” he whispered in her ear. “You left so abruptly before.”
“I think you know why.”
He raised one slightly slanted eyebrow. “You were the one Maeve sought.”
“I’m very much in demand.”
He dipped her, then pulled her back upright. “And I have to think that you have something to do with Maeve’s scheme.”
“Mmmhmmm,” Emily murmured with what she hoped was an enigmatic smile.
“Which makes me think that my lord and lady might find you equally useful.”
“How so?” Emily tried batting her eyelashes, but she was afraid she just looked like she had something in her eye.
He spun her around expertly. “You could help them win the throne. They would make it worth your while.”
It didn’t seem as though pretending that she already knew would trick him into opening up, so she decided to take the opposite approach. “I don’t know anything about this. Maeve just kidnapped me. She didn’t give me a briefing. You have to tell me what you want before I can decide whether or not to help you.”
He missed his footing for a split second, but recovered within the space of the next beat. “You don’t know about the lost throne?”
“Enlighten me.”
They went all the way around the dance floor before he spoke again, and Emily noticed that they were on the opposite side of the champagne fountain from Maeve. “There are those who believe that the last queen of the Realm left instructions on how to claim the throne, when the time came. If Maeve found the palace, then all she needs is the instructions, which must somehow involve you.”
Or my sister, Emily thought, but this still made no sense. Sophie was a know-it-all, but being the secret keeper of the instructions for claiming the fairy throne seemed beyond even her scope. She’d just opened her mouth to ask another question when “Clark” tugged her hand to spin her in front of him, then caught her with the other hand, keeping her spinning until their joined hands stopped her momentum, their arms fully outstretched. He did a little kick step, and she instinctively mirrored him. Oh, boy, she thought, he’s doing a Fred and Ginger. She could barely think straight enough to come up with another question while keeping up with him, but she couldn’t resist going along with the dance. She’d always dreamed of doing a Fred and Ginger routine, but she’d never met the right partner or run into the right situation. They didn’t do much of this kind of dancing on Broadway anymore.
She felt like she was floating on air as he swirled her around and they moved in perfect unison. And then Emma and Leigh showed up to spoil it—probably sent by Maeve, who must have noticed her consorting with the outsider. The girls were all a-twitter as they pulled her away from “Clark.” “Isn’t this just the best party?” Emma asked.
“I’m glad to see you dancing and enjoying yourself,” Leigh added.
“Let’s find you a new partner!” Emma said.
“I think I’ll sit the next one out,” Emily protested, trying to wrest her arms from their grasp as she looked behind their shoulders for her erstwhile partner.
“Don’t be silly!” Leigh said. “There’s no reason for you not to have fun.”
“I was having fun,” Emily said through clenched teeth.
Emma dropped her voice and said, “Fun with the wrong person. You’ll do better if you stop fighting Maeve.” She nodded toward one of the servants. Emily noticed that the human servant was tall and had red hair.
“Another one,” she said with a groan.
“She fought,” Emma said. “Now she’s a slave. We didn’t. We get to dance and play, all the time.”
“You’re happy like that?”
“Of course! We don’t have to work. We get pretty clothes. We get food. The men are very handsome.” She giggled and blushed. “I don’t remember much about before, but I’m sure I had to go to work.”
Emily thought it sounded like the life of a spoiled poodle with a mercurial owner. It was a life of luxury, sure, but who wanted to spend a lifetime doing tricks for someone who was just as likely to kick you as kiss you? Then again, it sounded better than servitude. She smiled politely when Emma dragged over a fairy man for her to dance with. He was attractive in a somewhat feminine way—not Emily’s type, but if dancing with him would keep her from being made a slave, she’d make the sacrifice. And maybe she could get him to talk.