Page 69 of Blood and Roses

"You!" Celyn squirmed. "How is this possible?"

"I am Balthasar, son of Bleddyn, rightful king of the Unseelie." His hand gripped the fae's hair. "Do you really thinkthat he wouldn't have taught us everything about your spiteful kind? If you want to live, you are going to do exactly as I tell you, Celyn, or I will rip you apart limb from limb. Understand?"

"I understand," Celyn spat. "I understand that as soon as you let your guard down, I will destroy you, you Unseelie piece of—" Balthasar punched him hard in the throat.

Celyn's threats turned to gargled chokes for air.

"Let's be very clear here. You stole the only thing I've given a damn about in over two hundred years. I don't need an excuse to kill you. You are going to help me get Rosa back."

Celyn made a noise like a gurgling laugh.

"She's already lost to you," he wheezed. "She drank the queen's wine. Even if you could get to her, she won't be your Rosa anymore. She's the queen's creature, her slave in all things."

"I don't care what you say," Balthasar said. "I'm still going to get her."

"You cannot get through the portal! The fae blood in you is too weak to be recognized."

Balthasar smiled at him unpleasantly. "Then it is a good thing that I have a fae with me."

Celyn screamed as Balthasar sank his fangs deep into his throat. Hot, Seelie blood flowed into him like caramel. He fought the temptation to lose himself in Celyn's long memories. Instead, he focused on the more recent ones—how to find his way to the Seelie Court and where they were holding Rosa.

He caught a brief glimpse of the queen kissing her, and he pulled back. Celyn was limp in his arms but still alive. With strength and magic surging through him, Balthasar slung Celyn over his shoulder and stepped into the ring of stones.

Gold and silver light rose up around them, and he was falling, drawn down into the earth and smothering darkness.

Balthasar was still gripping tightly to Celyn as he was thrown out of the ground and into a circle of monoliths. The air around him buzzed with magic, the forest glowing with an aura of power and light.

"This is incredible," Balthasar whispered as he took in all the beauty around him.

"This is the Aos Si. You made it, and now it's no longer safe from your pestilent kind," Celyn muttered.

"I have no interest in bringing the Gwaed Gam here. I'm only here for Rosa, and I will return home and never think of this place again."

"They will know that it's you straight away. Look at you! You won't get five feet into the court. I hope I am there to see them skin you alive."

"All I need is a good disguise," Balthasar said, looking at Celyn's fancy attire and the mask he clutched in this hand. Celyn's eyes widened before Balthasar hit him hard, knocking him unconscious. Balthasar dragged him behind the faerie ring. "There we are. You stay there until I need you on the way home."

Following the instructions from Celyn's mind, Balthasar ran along the white roads, the two moons and light from the trees enough for him to see clearly. He would have liked to explore all the wonders and terrors that the Aos Si offered, but being the only son of Bleddyn meant that he would be hunted wherever he went. He needed to find Rosa and get home before the magic in the air seduced him.

Time moved differently in the Aos Si, and when Balthasar looked at his watch, he discovered that it had stopped completely. He found the entrance to the tunnels behind a boulder. The shimmering glyphs etched into the stone stood out like a beacon, compliments of Celyn's blood that was burning through him. He was quiet as he crept through the darkened passageways, the sounds of a lively party calling out to him.

Two guards fell as Balthasar snapped the neck of one, relieved him of his sword, and took the head off the other. He drank them quickly, his vision blurring with the overdose. Celyn was right. They would know he wasn't a fae, but the extra fae blood would trick them even if it were only for a little while.

The tunnels came to an end at an elaborately carved door. Making sure that his mask was in place, he opened them. Eli had told him that the Seelie palace was built underground, but he wasn't ready for the lavishness that he encountered.

With Eli, he had frequented some of the wealthiest courts in the world, and Marie Antoinette's parties at Versailles couldn't come close to the decadence before him. Everywhere he walked, he found elaborate mirrors, gilded ornaments, murals that made his eyes burn with longing. Nature seemed to co-exist with the building. Fine lamps and crystal trinkets hung from exposed roots, and flowers grew unexpectedly from the floor and walls. He tried to close his emotions away so that the enchanting beauty wouldn't distract him from his true purpose.

The chattering of faerie women led him down a corridor and to the ballroom he had seen in Celyn's mind. This was the place where the Autumn Queen had forced Rosa to drink her poison.

Interweaving melodies filled the air as dancers moved about the room in waltzes. Hiding behind a pillar, he spied Ryn and the queen herself. She was as dangerously delightful as Eli had said—like a poisonous flower ready to eat any fly that landed too close.

He walked slowly around the room, avoiding the sight of Ryn, the only fae that could recognize him. Balthasar watched the dancers, and then by a miracle, he smelled her.

His head snapped up to spot Rosa dancing gracefully with a black haired fae that had a magnificent set of stag antlers. He was bare-chested, and if Balthasar's senses could be trusted, he was oozing pheromones. He watched as Rosa, dressed in animpossible dress of black feathers, was twirled about, the fae's hands stroking her arms with a possessive touch.

Calm down, Balthasar, he warned himself. He had expected to find Rosa in chains, not in the arms of another man. He bowed to a faerie lady with white hair and offered her his hand. She smiled, revealing sharply filed teeth and accepted. Balthasar led his partner out into the dance, watching as they broke off into groups of four, exchanging partners in a weaving pattern. He headed for Rosa, careful not to appear too eager but danced with the same tranced and languid attitude as the other dancers. Time seemed to go forever, but finally, he ducked, weaved, and held her in his arms.

"Rosa, my Rosa," he whispered.

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