“How is this possible?” he asked.
“Faerie magic is like a wish. All you have to do is believe and then…magic happens.”
“That’s remarkable.” He paused, “I had forgotten that.”
“It’s not really,” she said, her cheeks burning with a blush. “But I’m glad you think so.”
Donnacha’s hand tightened at her waist. “What would we have done if we met like this at a Seelie ball?’
She laughed. “We never would have met at a Seelie ball. The dwarves would have stayed to themselves, and I would have had a hundred Tuatha de Danann jostling for my attention.”
“Ah, because you are the most beautiful woman they’ve ever seen?”
“Because they like to own shiny things, and I am all the rage now that I’m free.” She slid her hand up his shoulder and touched his chin. “But I still would have seen you from across the room. Even in all this splendor, you still carry something of the mountain with you.”
“Do I?”
“Something in the set of your jaw, the stubbornness there, or maybe it’s the deep blue of mountain lakes in your eyes.”
Donnacha twirled her in a circle, raising his arm for her to dip under before bringing her back to his chest. “I never would have thought a warrior woman could be a poet.”
“And why not?”
“You’re a woman of action, not of words.”
She looked at him with all the softness inside her, all the kindness that came pouring out because he had fixed her. “Words abandoned me for a while. They fled from my head and dripped off my tongue in bitter droplets, but you gave them back to me. You reminded me that rosewater is not something to be afraid of, even in myself. I don’t have to frighten people away. By doing that, all I’ve done is miss out on meeting more people like you.”
“I’m glad I could give you that.” He rubbed her back. “It’s a shame I couldn’t see you put that to good use.”
“Are you really giving up then?”
He nodded. “I am. And you should, too. Leave this cursed place. Go on all the adventures you thought you would and remember me while you’re there.”
Elva shook her head. “I’m not going to toss your ashes off the cliffs, Donnacha. You aren’t dead yet, and that means I can still save you.”
“You’re a stubborn woman.”
“Yes, I am.”
He sighed in anger and then finally nodded. “Fine. Come to me one last time. We’ll figure it out.”
“I will.”
“How are you going to get out of this ballroom now that everyone knows you’re here?”
Relief flooded her chest. He hadn’t given up just yet, which meant neither would she. There was a chance now, and that was all she needed.
Elva tucked a hand behind his neck. “Dip me and then kiss me, dwarf.”
“Yes ma’am.”
He stopped them in a grand twirl, dipped her with his hands holding her close to his heart. Donnacha hesitated for a brief moment when she heard the enraged scream of the troll princess.
“I think I might love you,” he whispered the moment before he kissed her.
And it was a kiss to end all kisses. She’d never forget the way he devoured her lips and poured secrets into her soul. He gave her everything he was. The promise of a future, the salty taste of hope, and the cool salve knowing he believed in her.
Elva cupped his jaw and gave him everything she was back. The hope that they would see another life together because she had traveled across the realms to find him and wasn’t letting him go just yet.
When it was finished, she licked her lips and looked up into his eyes. “Stay alive, Donnacha. I will come for you.”
“Anything for you.”
Elva flexed her power one last time. The spell would set him back on the ground gently, and it made her melt from his arms and appear on the hill beyond the castle once more. Here, she would plan her attack.
She would get him back.
19
Elva breathed out a sigh that created mist in the cold morning air. This was her last chance. She focused her attentions on what could save Donnacha, and it had to be the best deal she’d made yet with the troll princess.
Shuffling footsteps approached her from the bottom of the hill. “Faerie?”
The buggane was still here. She’d been so enchanted by the story Elva had told her on she had repeated it when they met again. The dress had worked, well, sort of. She’d been so defeated that even the magic of the evening and the faces of the disappointed trolls hadn’t been enough to make her happy.
Elva turned. “Hello, buggane.”
“Is there anything else I can do?”
Not really. There was so much happening that she couldn’t think. There was only one more deal to make, and then she feared Donnacha would really give up. Elva brushed her hair away from her face and nodded. “Return home, buggane. See if you can find the king of the dwarves and tell him to race here with an army if possible. There might need to be a war to get him out.”
“But the king didn’t want that.”
“You may tell him I am concerned I will fail. That both Donnacha and I might be caught, and all will be lost.”
“You can’t think like that, faerie princess. Stories like these always end happily.”
She wasn’t so sure this was a fairytale after all. With everything they’d suffered through, with everything they’d survived, she had a feeling this would end a different way.
Elva shook her head. “Just go. Let him know that he is needed. Whether we succeed or not, I don’t think the journey will be easy for either of us to make.”
The buggane finally nodded and trudged back down the hill. Elva
