The stars returned just to watch Katherine be pulled onto the dance pavilion by the fae king, shining from between whisps of clouds to cast an eerie glow. She expected him to guide her, to tug her along with the steps of the faeries' fete, but he did not. His hands hovered ghost-like in hers, and though he radiated magic, Katherine felt none of it coming from his skin.

Strangely, the faes danced a version of the galliard still, but this was slower, with fewer leaps, and Katherine recognized it as one she'd seen but once before. Oh dear.

"Tell me, glass maker, how will you build my kingdom of glass?"

Katherine was startled, as for a moment she'd forgotten the claims of her father made real in the mouth of a king. She once again fought to find the right words but settled on the wrong ones.

"I cannot make a kingdom of glass, I have no magic." The king laughed in return to this, his eyes sparkling with some hidden delight. Katherine fought to keep her face neutral, but one look at Samuel in the crowd told her she'd likely failed.

"Glass maker, you have magic, whether you mean to or not. Now, how will you use it?" He brought his arms over her head pulling her closer against him. With each breath, she smelled the scents of his forest home tangled with those of fragrant blossoms and the elderberries from before. Even the scent from his breath seemed otherworldly, telling of damp forests in forbidden mountains, and late summer lavender. He bent his head low, his hair falling to brush against her cheek, compounding the smell and the sensation.

It flicked across the skin of her cheek, leaving a burning trail, but not of pain. Her cheek flared with life not its own as if it would jump off of her body and bloom into blossoms like the tree spilling with them above them.

"Will you start with a tower? Or perhaps a marketplace like the one over there?"

He motioned to the town's market, open later than usual for the festivities and twinkling gaily, though no one shopped there currently. All still watched as if spellbound, rooted in place as if by the same magic that still vibrated through her. Perhaps they watched in horror, in fear, in disbelief, as well as that strange spell.

"I could make you a small kingdom?" Katherine replied, feeling childish as she demonstrated with her hands the size she'd be willing to complete. Her hands hovered less than a foot away from each other, hardly the right size for a king. The king laughed once more, the chuckle more like the tone of a bell than a laugh, although this one more hearty than before.

"That would be more fit for a mouse than a king, if that. Do you expect me to shrink myself to the size of a bug."

"I never said what size." Katherine didn't mention that she'd much rather be dealing with a version of him the size of a bug. Easier to squash. 

"I suppose you did not." He waved the issue away, fingers flicking in a dismissive wave.  He turned her around in the dance, bringing her past her mother in the crowd. Katherine couldn't see her face as he spun her, his fingers strong and sure as she twirled, top-like. With each moment, their ghost-like texture grew steadier and firmer. Did he become more of her world or was she becoming more of his?

"Then what shall you make me instead? A deal is a deal, little glass maker."

Katherine's jaw clenched, even as her mind whirled and tipped, unable to keep all of this straight. An indignant anger bubbled beneath her skin but she checked it before it could spill from her mouth. It boiled beneath the surface of her tone, and she felt it overtake her fear.

"I don't recall agreeing to one," she snapped. She felt bold, bolder than she should be.

"You're right, you didn't. You instead stole a gift."

She scoffed. "I have never stolen anything in my life."

"No? Not even a small glass figure from a fae ring?"

He spun her once more, but this time she settled with her back to him as the steps of the dance began their ascent. Any moment now, and Katherine would have to put an inordinate amount of trust in this fae king.

"Is it stealing if I made it?"

"Is it a gift if you take it back?" He countered, his breath at the side of her head, and Katherine felt it in other places than just the shell of her ear, as her body tingled with a foreign spark.

"It was not meant for you. It was for my sister." Katherine moved her head so she could lock eyes with him, mustering all of her courage into a stern glare. "I would argue that you stole from her, rather than I stole from you. Each of those figures was meant for my sister, and if you claimed them, then you did so in error."

"Dear glass maker, you cannot give gifts to the dead. There is no one there to receive them any longer." His expression was almost pitying, his own mouth taut, but Katherine got the impression he still played with her. "Leaving a thing like that is more ancient than you and your sister's bond. Whether you meant to or not, you invoked a blessing by leaving exactly twelve figures, one for each month. And each placed on a full moon!"

"Then maybe I gave them to the birds, the bugs, the fauns," she grit out. "They surely would be more gracious receivers than you."

The laugh this time was an uproar. He chortled, he nearly lost his step in the dance. 

"I am master of the birds, the bugs, the fauns. Any gift you grant of them you give to me."

He brought her now into a jolting prance across the golden dirt, and Katherine's stomach dropped as her feet ceased to touch the ground. She held onto his right hand tighter, and he hummed in amusement, his arm gripping her around the small of her back. Now she was pressed against his front, feeling every inch of fabric under her heated skin, for her dress was built more for forge work than dancing. She chanced a look down at her feet, but her eyes widened when they caught sight of the shimmering hem of her dress.

No longer was it the dark blue of her work dress, now it matched the golden ground beneath her, as reflective as the king's silver overcoat and jewels. Her skirts were unaltered, not changed at all in length or size, but they moved with a grace that the stiff wool and linen blend could not. The gold climbed up the length of her dress, spreading out in a fanning feather pattern at her bodice, mixing the blue of her dress with the gold that reminded her of dark storm clouds over sunlight. Her skin once again glistened with golden specs and as the king led her in a mid-air lift, his hands grasping the area above her hips tightly, Katherine realized that she too must appear like one of the fae.

Did her mother even recognize her? She was unable to check as the king brought her back down from the culminating lift a moment later, and the flutes and drums transitioned into a different beat. This one pulsed slower, languid in its time.

"I'm willing to overlook your theft in return for a different gift, multiplied threefold." The king's words dragged her from her thoughts, from her panic at being in the air, from the whirl of her gold-laden skirts and the dreamlike quality of it all. "And in return, I will grant you what you wish most. I will bring your sister back to you."

Katherine didn't respond at first, hurriedly mulling over the suggestion. Everything about this night and this proposition rang of a trap. There was no way it was in earnest, and what did he have to gain from it?

"Why would you promise this?"

"Because you can grant me what I wish for most. Magic is not simply breathed into being anymore, it is traded back and forth between fae, between elves, between sorcerers hidden in the mountains, but you? My dear glass maker, you create it all on your own."

"You want magic?" The king shook his head, the movement agitated as if he grew tired of his own game and her questions.

"I want a powerful kingdom, and I want you to craft me the tools to get there. In return, I'll grant you your wish, as long as you agree to grant me mine."

Katherine still doubted her ability to make good on a magic promise. Whether her figurines at her sister's grave truly did have magic or not, she'd never be able to tell how she did it or how to replicate it. She wouldn't know where to start or even what to make.

"Where will I make them? At my father's forge?" The king shook his head once more, though she felt it more than saw it this time, as the steps of the dance tugged him out of her sight.

"No. No simple human forge would do," he spoke to the back of her head. "You will use my forge, and live in my palace."

"For how long?"

"For however long it takes."

Katherine frowned, calculating in her head. She had no idea what he'd ask her to make, but it generally only took her a week to make a new item. Three weeks wasn't very long at all. She could do anything for three weeks. She'd been through much worse, and she wouldn't be missed.

Even as she danced above their heads, spinning circles in the sky and painting a picture of fae magic and myth with each movement, not a single person looked concerned or moved to stop it. They stood as if forged in glass themselves. No one showed anything other than dreamy indifference, no one except Samuel.

The man from the cemetery watched her path through the air with thinly veiled sorrow, and Katherine felt a sudden urge to step closer to him, to pull him instead into the dance and the fray. Hadn't he said he'd been there twelve years? What deal had he struck? An idea began to form in the back of her mind. He'd meant to warn her, surely. But of what? He had no way out, he had failed to find a way to keep himself safe. Katherine would learn from his mistakes, if not heed his words.

"If I must make you a gift threefold, then shouldn't my wish be multiplied threefold as well?"

The king laughed again, once again, an entirely genuine laugh this time, delighted in her gall. She marveled at the fact he was the only being she'd ever seen not warmed by his laughter. Even in his delight, he still was colder than ice. "My dear, that is not how these deals work. You stole from me."

"Says who? Were you there?" This gave him pause, and he peered at her with wonder and amusement. "All you have to go off of is the vestiges of an ancient ritual, and you've said yourself that the ways of magic have left you trading magic with others. Who's to say that you didn't steal from me? That I hadn't made that ground hallowed with my presence rather than it being so with your woods. If I am magic, and I create magic, how can you claim that I go by your magic's rules?"

He had no answer for her, she could tell. He stopped dancing; he stopped breathing. He gazed down at her steadily, and she expected anger to begin radiating from him like the glow of his skin or the perfume on his person. None of this came, instead he tilted his head to the left, his hair forming a curtain that hid them both from the crowd.

"Are you attempting to change the rules of a king? That seems dangerous for you." It was spoken casually as if it weren't a threat. Maybe it wasn't, but Katherine wouldn't bet her life away on it. She mustered her courage, forcing herself to match his tone and confidence.

"No, what seems dangerous is you trying to make a deal on a foundation of magic neither of us understand. I'll cut you a deal. I will do your bidding thrice, you will grant my three wishes, and then we shall wash our hands of each other."

The king seemed torn between laughter and annoyance, and Katherine half-expected him to stamp a booted foot in frustration but even that he held back. It was not that his handsome face betrayed anger, it was more so that the keen eyes, sharp nose, and taut mouth were formed such that he appeared resolute. Resolute to what action, she was unsure, but Katherine's stomach twisted into a set of knots.

She still hung in the air, guided by his magic, at his mercy. She still danced in a golden-speckled dress, made more of the golden thread of her dreams than any earthly material. She felt as if she made a deal with a demon or a two-faced jinn. Was it Katherine who was making a mistake? She did not mean to barter her life, but truly what kind of life did she have left anyway?

If this was a chance to get her sister back and to leave enough wishes in her pocket to get them both away from the faeking's reach, maybe this could work.

"What will you wish for?" This was said quietly, only for Katherine's ears, and she realized now that they'd drifted higher than the other dancers. High above the treetops, only the moons witnessed them now. The fae king still looked at her strangely, as if she were the magical being, not he. Maybe she was.

"I can't possibly say."

The king frowned in response but twirled her in a sweeping gesture. He spun her out, letting go of her waist momentarily, and Katherine startled herself as her feet left trails of gold across the night sky. She still clasped his hand, but the power of flight didn't feel like one she had. Looking down, Katherine twirled again, her slippered feet spinning circles of gold and tendrils of dread.

She did not understand what she was getting herself into, but better a hope-tinged dream of faeries than a hopeless one without.

"I accept your terms," the king said, taking again her waist in his other hand, his fingers cool through the fabric covering her back. They began to descend, falling faster than their ascent. "You have three nights to reach my palace, or I will consider our deal forfeit."

"What?" Katherine replied, "This was not part of the deal." The king laughed, his cackle in great contrast with the calculating softness from mere moments before.

"You never specified. The first rule of making a deal with the fae is always to consider everything."

His disappeared in a burst of golden dust the moment her feet reached the ground, leaving her to combat the stares of her fellow townspeople, alone in a gold-spun dress.

-o-0-o-

Thanks for reading Glass Maker! What did you think of this chapter? Thoughts on the terms of the deal? Let me know in the comments below!

The next chapter is coming Tuesday!