Page 6 of The Yuletide Fairy's Curse
“It’s because we’re terrible rulers, isn’t it?” Dalla said.
“I cannot tell if you are trying to make a very bad joke or not,” said Kolfrosta.
“Nor can I,” said Dalla. “Why didn’t you take me that first night?”
Kolfrosta took a moment to consider this. “I am not sure I understand your meaning.”
“Ten years ago, you came to my bedroom,” said Dalla, gaining confidence, “and then you left. You took my parents instead. Why?”
“I could tell you,” Kolfrosta said. “But will you allow me to show you?”
CHAPTER 5
When Dalla put her arm in Kolfrosta’s again, the wassail had gotten to her head a bit. This part, surely, was where she’d be led to be killed. She wished she’d had more to drink before going to her execution.
But why would Kolfrosta prolong Dalla’s death? The question weighed on Dalla. The lovely array of desserts could hardly be followed up with a torture session. Dalla held back an absurd laugh as she remembered a fairy tale about children who were fed sweets and then eaten. Surely not that, either.
There had to be some point Kolfrosta needed to get across before committing the murder.
Dalla expected the maze of hallways to lead them somewhere new. It did not. Before she knew it, she once more beheld the great, decorated pine tree in the main hall.
The baubles were even more fascinating up close. She’d thought they wavered like dewdrops, but images flashed in each one, too quick to grasp.
Kolfrosta released Dalla’s arm and plucked one of the baubles from the tree. Dalla took it from her.
The bauble was heavier than Dalla expected and icy to the touch. Dalla kept her hold firm and brought it close to her face to see better.
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“Drop it,” said Kolfrosta.
“What?”
“Drop the bauble,” Kolfrosta repeated.
Dalla swallowed. Was this some sort of test to see if she would destroy something so beautiful? Would dropping the bauble make it explode and kill her instantly?
Well, there were worse ways to die. She dropped the bauble.
It shattered on the ground, and suddenly Dalla was transported somewhere else.
The castle room where royalty met with important contacts was not as well-known to Dalla as some of the other rooms in the castle. She’d never been allowed inside before this year. It was for the sovereign’s use only.
But she recognized the room, nonetheless, for the tapestry of a king with his hands on the shoulders of a gaunt man. Rays of sunlight radiated from the king’s form, and the gaunt man was dressed in tatters, fallen to his knees as though lacking the strength to stand. The idea was, she suspected, that the king granted the gaunt man some imagined magic of the royal touch to restore his health. But it looked to her like the remaining life was being sapped from the gaunt man into the king’s healthy form.
In this royal meeting room, the summer fairy sat in the chair usually inhabited by the sovereign, and Dalla sat in one of the chairs reserved for visitors. She held the hand of a man seated next to her—her father, she realized. Her view was that of her mother’s.
“This is the full list?” Puck asked. He frowned at a scroll pulled taught between his hands. “I expected fewer than this.”
“Not the Wolves this year,” said the king. “They were late with their taxes.”
“And the Bears disrespected us when they visited last October,” said the queen, coldly.
“What about the rest of them?” Puck asked. “The commoners?”
The king waved his hand dismissively. “The usual.”
“Understood. I’ll try to make it unnoticeable.” Puck stood. The green pendant at his throat pulsed with light. “I will see you at the summer solstice, Your Majesties.”
