With the pixie returned and the King seeming unfazed, Brogan motioned for his people to continue their dancing and get back to celebrating.
Khalistah stared at me so long it was beyond creepy. I could all but hear the crank in her mind deciding what to do next. Her attention finally turned to the Prince, who was pondering Cassidy from afar as if bewildered by his interest in such an ordinary creature. She clung to Dad’s arm, practically hiding behind him. I wanted to scream at her to run as fast and far as she could.
“See something you like, Prince?” Khalistah asked him.
His eyes slid from the Princess, back to Cassidy. The FFG’s lips turned up in a vile expression of happiness.
“I believe I do,” he answered. “The sister…”
The King and other Fae noted the Prince’s interest and I swallowed hard. McKale cleared his throat next to me as the Prince began to make his way slowly to Cassidy. She moved further behind Dad and his jaw set in a frown at the bronzed Fae. Khalistah gave a wickedly happy laugh.
Just as the Prince neared, causing Dad to walk backward, an angry voice hollered from a distance like a war cry. All heads turned toward the trees where the Clour showed themselves, looking fierce. Rock was sprinting toward us, iron dagger in hand, yelling, “Ye can’t have her!”
McKale and I met each other’s eyes with mutual shocked expressions.
Before Rock could make it the last ten feet to us his feet were suddenly halted and his upper body jolted forward. I watched in horror as grass shot up from the ground, long and wide, winding around his legs and up his torso. He struggled in anguish against it.
“No!” Cass yelled.
Dad held her back. Grass twined, squeezing his arms to his side, and then wound around his face to cover his mouth. His head thrashed, curls everywhere.
“Drop the weapon.” The cool voice came from the Summer King, causing an uproar of delighted bird chatter that contrasted the dismay of everyone in the field.
Rock’s eyes blazed at the Prince and he fought for short breaths through his nose. He had enough good sense to drop the dagger at his side. The other Clourichaun retreated a step back toward the tree line, as if frightened that their approach might make things worse for Rock. Their poor faces were filled with fear.
“The Clourichaun?” Summer King murmured. “How many of their kind remain?”
McKale cleared his throat and said, “Twelve, sir.”
“Only twelve…” He seemed to ponder this with something regret for what could have been, but it only lasted a moment before being replaced by disdain. “A pity.”
Martineth piped up next to him. “They deserve every moment of punishment they have received. Worthless pups. This one should die for coming near us with a weapon.”
The King lifted a hand toward Rock and the blade of grass peeled back from his mouth. “What is the meaning of this outburst, Clour boy?”
Rock attempted to suck air into his lungs, panting. “I meant no disrespect to ye, King o’ the Summer. But I cannot sit back an’ watch Cassidy Mason taken from her family.”
The King looked genuinely baffled. Khalistah glided to her father’s side with a sweet smile. “Do not listen to this fool, father. Unlike this Clourichaun, the Prince has been your good and loyal servant. If he seeks a simple gift I am certain you would agree that he has earned it.”
The King’s attention went to the Prince as it all came together. “Is it a human you fancy? I find that rather surprising, given your efforts the past few centuries for my daughter’s affections.”
Several of the Fae sniggered.
“I…” The Prince was still puzzled. His head swiveled toward Cassidy. “Such an urge is quite strange and unfamiliar to me, but I believe I would like to have this human.”
“Ne’er!” shouted Rock. “Take me instead! I will go!”
“Oh, my God.” Cassidy covered her mouth.
The Prince’s face contorted. “I do not want you!”
“Ye can’t take her! Ye—” The blade of grass slapped back over Rock’s mouth before he could finish and the King sighed at the trivial issue.
The FFG clapped her hands, elated. “What fun!”
“She is of magical blood,” the Summer King pointed out. “We do not have a wealth of magical humans to spare.”
“Oh, go on, Father. Do let the Prince have her!”
Martineth ran a slender finger up the King’s neck. “He has been such a good boy. And never asked for a thing.”
No! No, no, no, this could not be happening.
Rock thrashed against his bindings. I stepped closer to McKale until our arms were up against each other. I thought I might pass out from anxiety.
Brogan shifted uncomfortably and looked at the sky, which had darkened a bit as the sun dipped behind the trees.
“Er, Father,” McKale noticed it too. “Should we perhaps begin the pre-binding entertainment for our esteemed guests?”