THERE'S A WEIGHT to his gaze I'm afraid I'm missing. Heavy, and warm. As if he's trying to convey something, or having another one of his little jokes with himself. The confusion from his words makes my head spin. Every twist and stride we take together feels like a step deeper into a tangled web I cannot see the edges of.

Who knows how far I have gotten myself into already?

"...What do you mean by that?" I ask.

"Yo'r Half Fae," The Prince's shoulders shrug. "You mig't be m're like your moth'r than any 'f us imag'ne."

I glance to my father once more, where dark shadows flicker across his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the line of his jaw. His beard's close cropped, but messier than usual. I suppose he hasn't had much time to shave as of late. Throughout his pulled back greying dreads are golden spirals and hanging jewelry. The woven in golden trinkets glint like stars in the night sky. They gleam and catch the light as his head moves, following along exactly with the Prince and I's dance. My father's dark skin nearly matches my own. Just a few shades deeper, Orion's as rich as sun warmed earth after summer rain. My nose belongs to him as well. A perfect, smaller match.

My waves, though tamed into a bun for the night, I've been told come from my mother's side.

Arabella.

I let go of the prince momentarily to reach up and grasp a lock, feeling the familiar texture beneath my fingertips.

My eyes too. A light froggy blue. A matching pair with hers.

Half Fae.

The words echo in my mind with each spin over and over.

Half Fae. Half Fae. Half Fae.

Until they finally seem to settle like a rock in my stomach. What does it even really mean?

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Their myths recall superior strength, endurance, and speed.

All kinds of heightened senses.

Magic.

Fae? Certainly not the way Prince Noadok is Fae.

Not even the way my father, though born to mortal parents, still seems to carry the Fae Realm with him.

"I don't feel very Fae," I admit.

Noadok smiles, his drunken dimples nearly stealing my breath. "G'od."

The music speeds up, pulsing in my veins and I can tell by the prince's movement's that he's getting ready for something more dramatic.

I'm twirled twice, before a change in his step signals to me exactly what I suspected.

A dip.

The music swells, and I'm lowered, the world quickly rising around me. I cling to the boardness of his shoulders as his cold muscular arms flex around me, holding my weight as stable as a building. For a moment, all I can see is the silhouette of the Prince above me. His features are immensely softened by the dim candlelight and distant stars. Noadok's baby pink drunken cherub cheeks go up, towards the sky as he smiles down at me.

I'm pulled back up, struggling to regain my balance as I accidentally inhale even more of his intoxicating breath.

"Alm'st fe'l bad." Prince Noadok lets out a deep laugh that washes over me as I focus on my balance. "Orion's mad see'ng you d'ncin' with m', but he'd pr'fer me ove' Faris any day."

Faris.

There's a cloudiness to my being. A state bordering on unawareness. The fogginess coming in waves.

But still, the name brings forth a vision. And when I blink, I see them staring right back at me.

My dream.

Light blue eyes, surrounded by darkness.

A frigid wind creeps up my dress, along my spine.

Icy fingers grip the back of my throat, making it hard to swallow as I force my eyes back open.

"Your brother, right?" I manage.

The Prince's eyes gleam at the opportunity to speak of him once more, but I can feel his grip on me almost imperceptibly tighten.

"T'at's the one."

So consumed by the thought of the brother, I almost miss a step in our dance, but Noadok is quick to react to my mistake, guiding me back into the rhythm as effortlessly as his erratic drunken movements can manage. The dancing has left me with a slight layer of sweat, and the breeze is no longer a comfort for the night, but a reminder of the proceedings before the blizzard. Before the Prince's arrival.

Sweat blown cold by the wind. I shiver.

"...You said earlier that he'll like me... Am I to meet Faris?"

We whirl across the dance floor, and it seems the topic has somehow increased the Prince's wavering condition.

I watch his dark blue iris's search the crowd as they becomes more unpredictable.

Rapid. Fearful.

They finally land on their target and I'm swept away in movement.

“It’s gettin’ late. Wo’ld be a shame ‘f you didn’t dance w’th yo’r fath’r befor’ he leaves.”

And just like that I’m somehow swung to Orion.