Disclaimer: I don't own The Dark Artifices, Cassandra Clare does.
Author's Note: I'm so sorry that I haven't updated sooner. I'll try to make this chapter extra good to make up for it a bit.
Chapter 8: The Revel
Mark looked at Kieran for a moment, trying to make his expression calm. He'd known of course that the King's favour wouldn't be pleasant... but fatal? He shook his head. It was worth it, he thought firmly, he'd do anything, even sacrifice himself, to make sure that Kieran remained safe.
"It'll be fine," He told Kieran, squeezing his hand gently. "We've both been through too much to let this favour worry us. You just focus on getting some rest, all right?"
"I cannot," He said, "Don't you remember, Mark? We have the revel tonight, we'll need to be there. It's being hosted by some of my father's Lords."
Mark frowned at his words. He'd forgotten about the revel, and he knew that Kieran was right, they couldn't skip this one, no matter how exhausted Kieran most likely was.
As Mark was thinking this, Gwyn approached, his expression showing just the faintest signs of relief.
"Good, you're awake, Kieran," He said gruffly, "Now, we'd best get going, the rebel begins in a few hours, and we have a hard ride ahead of us."
Mark frowned, shooting Kieran a concerned look. He knew that he couldn't argue, that they had to get going, but still he wished that he could somehow get Kieran out of having to go.
Seeing Mark's look, Kieran met his gaze, his expression slightly defiant. "Don't fuss, Mark," He murmured, "Let us get on with it."
He got up, and Mark rose too, moving towards his horse, who was waiting nearby. On impulse, he gestured to Kieran to get on, then when Kieran, after a hesitant moment, did get up, Mark got up behind him, wrapping his arms loosely around Kieran's waste and gripping the reins.
They flew upwards, skimming over the trees, and Mark felt a wild pleasure go through him. He'd never ridden like this, with someone else, before and it gave him a frill, one that he should see that Kieran felt too.
"So," Mark said as they flew along, "What should I expect at this revel?" He felt Kieran tense a little, and he frowned, about to say that it didn't matter, but then Kieran answered him.
"Expect lots of things," Kieran said, "The Fair Folk, as you know, love our revels. So, expect to dance until your feet hurt, expect the politics of the Court... but most of all..." He hesitated, letting his sentence trail off. "Expect some... judgement, I suppose you would say. Although you ride with the Hunt, well, you are not a full-blooded faerie, they may not be kind to you."
"And well they be kind to you?" Mark asked. "You said that you didn't have many friends in your father's court."
"My concern is not for myself," Kieran said calmly, and he would say no more on the subject, so they rode in silence, all the way to the revel.
Mark's first sight of the revel would stay with him for a long, long time. Faeries of all shapes and sizes, with skin in all the colours imaginable, whirled to the strange and lovely music in the meadow below. Mark felt a strange pull at his heart as they landed on the edge of the field, a strong desire to join in, to dance, to become a part of the moving kaleidoscope of faeries.
"You must be careful," Kieran murmured, "It can be overwhelming, being at this large a revel for the first time. Stay close to me, and you will be fine."
"Dance with me?" Mark asked him, that strange pull still strong in his blood. Kieran nodded, but he took hold of Mark's arm, moving them to the very edge of the meadow, a fair distance from the other dancers. He didn't know why at first, but then he remembered Kieran's earlier words, and he understood, Kieran was trying to keep them away from anyone who might not approve of Mark's Shadowhunter brood. Mark knew that this was probably the smart thing to do, but he couldn't help being a little disappointed, that strange pull wanted him to whirl into the censer of the dancers, to become one with the faeries around him.
He shook his head, trying to clear it, and turned to face Kieran. The prince's eyes met his own, and he smiled, despite the tiredness that Mark could still see in him under the surface.
"Shall we?" Kieran asked, and he took Mark's hand, the other arm wrapping around "around waist. In answer, Mark wrapped his free arm around Kieran, and they danced, their bodies close together as they moved with the music.
They stayed that way for a long time, letting the music surround them, fill them with a fierce joy. They danced for what seemed like forever, and Mark felt the fear of the fear turn to relief and joy as the two lovers danced until dawn.