Aisling Úllmhara's Arc

Chapter 3 of 6

The roof was won, but the court under it was thin. Three faces at a long table. Deirdre polished a dull crown they didn't have. Moira hummed cracks into the plates. Aisling knew the horned lord would weigh her court against the others at the revel, and three was not a number that impressed anyone. She needed followers, and she needed them fast. So she walked to the manor across the field, the one with crooked towers and windows lit in every color, where the loudest laughter on the island came from. Music hit her at the door. Inside, a green-skinned Frankenstein monster tapped a beat on the table with one hand. "Yeah, that's not me doing that," Frankie said, grinning at the hand. "Drummer's hand. Belonged to somebody else. Taps all night whether I like it or not." He didn't seem to mind. He seemed to think it was funny. A vampire in flower-print pants swept over, cape swirling. "A visitor! Groovy." Drac Groovula bowed low, all teeth and charm. Beside him a witch in yellow sunglasses studied Aisling like a puzzle. Melody Moonbeam pushed her glasses up her nose. "I'm Aisling Úllmhara," she said. "I hold a court. I'm claiming the crown at the revel. I came to ask you to join me. To swear to my court." The music kept playing. Nobody stopped dancing. Drac's smile stayed, but it changed. "Swear? Kneel to a queen?" He laughed, warm and loose. "That's not our scene, apple girl." "We don't do crowns," Melody said, not unkind. "We do parties. Nobody here bows to anybody." Frankie's hand drummed on. "No offense, yeah? You seem cool. But swearing's heavy. We keep it light." Aisling felt her face burn. She had come to gather an army and found a room that couldn't be gathered. "Then I've wasted your evening," she said, and turned for the door. "Hold on." Drac caught up in two strides. "You don't leave a party sad. That's a crime." He looked back at Melody, at Frankie, at the crowd. "We won't kneel. But the revel? A big Samhain blowout? We'll come. We'll play. Best band on the island, apple girl. You want a crowd that makes the horned lord's jaw drop, you don't need servants." He spread his arms. "You need us on your stage." Melody grinned. "Guests, not subjects." Aisling stopped. It was not what she came for. No sworn followers, no swelled numbers on paper. But a ragged court with the loudest, wildest band on the island behind it was a court that turned heads. "Guests," she said slowly. "You'll perform under my name." "Under your party," Drac said. "We don't do names." She shook his cold hand. She had failed to grow her court. She had won something stranger instead. Now she had a show to build, and a rival court would surely try to shut it down before the horned lord ever heard a note.