Grave War (An Alex Craft Novel) Page 2

  For his part, Falin glowered at Maeve. “I’ve told you before that I will not entertain consort prospects.”

  Maeve bowed her head but made the smallest shrug as if this was all out of her control. “Of course, my king. I have spread the word that you are not accepting offers, but that has done little to stop the applicants. I have offered you my advice as the head of your council. I’m afraid the other courts have noted the deficit in your court. They will continue to send prospects in hopes of securing the position. Or they will send challengers.”

  “Noted,” Falin said, his voice cold. This was a conversation they’d had before. “I’ll see the delegates shortly. I’ll not see the consort prospects. If there is nothing else, you are dismissed.”

  She dipped into a quick curtsy before turning and sweeping gracefully out of the room, but I didn’t miss the way her smile seemed to cut a cruel line as she shot one last glance at me. I wasn’t sure why she didn’t like me. If she had a problem with my part in the former queen’s fall, you would think she’d hold an even bigger grudge against Falin, who’d been the one to behead the queen. Instead Maeve had made several attempts to seduce him, and had even offered herself as the first prospect of consort. Of course, I might have just answered my own question. Not that I thought Maeve had strong feelings for Falin—or likely any feelings, as she’d barely noticed him when he was the Winter Knight—but she was attracted to power and I was standing between her and queenship.

  Which was why I was learning how to duel. Not because of Maeve in particular, but because I could be challenged by anyone who perceived me as an obstacle to clawing their way higher on the Faerie power ladder. That was also why my relationship with Falin, while not exactly secret, wasn’t something we were advertising.

  With a scowl, Falin watched Maeve go, and then he ran a hand through his hair. Or at least, he tried to. His long hair caught on the thin circlet of ice on his brow and he shook his hand free with a grimace.

  When he turned back to me, his expression softened. He reached out and cupped my face, his thumb running lightly over my cheekbone. “Rain check on where that kiss was headed?”

  I shrugged, trying not to show my disappointment, but in truth, the moment had passed. Between Maeve’s brief appearance and the reminder about Falin’s consort candidates—even if he didn’t actually want said candidates—the mood was well and truly broken.

  “How many rain checks does that make?”

  He grimaced, because we were racking them up. I was starting to suspect Faerie didn’t want us together with the way we were always interrupted whenever anything took a turn toward the romantic.

  “Come to court with me, and we will pick up where we left off as soon as these blasted introductions are over.”

  That sounded awesome—okay, well, not really. Picking up where we left off sounded great. Court? No, I hated attending court.

  I glanced at my watch. Digital watches were unreliable in Faerie, and anything battery powered was suspect, but windups worked well—as long as I remembered to wind it. It was only nine currently, but these meetings with representatives from other courts tended to drag on for hours.

  “I should head back. First day at the FIB tomorrow and all. I need to get a good night’s sleep.” It sounded like a weak excuse, and the look Falin gave me said he wasn’t buying it. Likely because regardless of how long I spent in Faerie, the door back to mortal reality should drop me in the mortal realm within minutes to an hour or two of when I’d left. Or at least that was how the door used to work. Recently the doors had not been functioning predictably. Or maybe it was that they’d been functioning too predictably. Regardless of how meticulously I filled out the ledger at the Eternal Bloom, time passed at an identical rate on either side of the door. For me, at least. I hadn’t heard anyone else complain about the phenomenon.

  Maybe it was just a run of bad luck—though typically bad luck with the doors resulted in me losing hours or days, not time being consistent on both sides. My hand moved to the locket on my throat. It wasn’t actually a locket, but a ball of compressed realities. It was also what I suspected had caused the change in the door’s behavior.

  “I should go.”

  Falin frowned and stepped closer. He wrapped his arms around me, narrowing the world to just the warmth of his body pressed against mine. His lips brushed against mine, just a taste of a kiss, nothing compared to the kiss Maeve had interrupted. I wanted to deepen that kiss, but he did have to greet the emissaries. He was a new king, and he needed to make allies.

  “Tomorrow?” he asked after our lips parted.

  “Yeah.” I started to nod and then stopped. “Oh, no. I can’t tomorrow. I have plans.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. I shrugged.

  “Tamara is on bed rest until the baby comes. Holly and I promised to go over and binge-watch the seventh season of Curse Breakers.”

  “That’s a horrible show,” he said, but he was smiling.

  Before this whole “ascending to the winter throne” thing had occurred, he’d sat through more than a couple marathon sessions of the show, laughing at how flabbergasted I got over the improbability of most of the spells used by the cast. We weren’t even dating then, just friends throwing popcorn at my television. Okay, I’d been the one throwing popcorn.

  “You could join us. I’m sure Tam wouldn’t mind.”

  The smile faded from his face. “I wish I could.”

  He pressed a kiss to the top of my forehead. There was sadness in the gesture, a weight of responsibility. He hadn’t wanted to be king. He didn’t want to hold court. He’d been protecting me when he’d killed the queen. And now he was in the precarious position of king.

  “You could give up the court.” I whispered the words, even though we were alone and there was no one to overhear them.

  He sighed and pulled me in tighter. I leaned my cheek against his chest as his fingers slid along my back, ghost-light, leaving goose bumps of awareness in their wake.

  “That, I wish I could do as well.” His voice was also a whisper. If his mouth weren’t inches from my ear, I wouldn’t have heard him at all. “But who would I trust the court to? Who wouldn’t have me killed as a potential threat and try to leverage your planeweaving abilities? Who would leave us in peace?”

  And weren’t those all million-dollar questions.

  “Heavy is the head that wears the crown,” I muttered, adding my own sigh. “You probably shouldn’t keep them waiting much longer.” I stepped out of his arms, though it took a force of will. “I’ll try to stop by for a few minutes tomorrow and give you a briefing on my first day.”

  “And should I listen to this briefing as a boss or a boyfriend?”

  I must have made a face at his question because he cocked an eyebrow and asked, “What?”

  I gave a dismissive shrug. “I’m nervous about tomorrow. I’m still not sure I’m cut out for this job.” It was a misdirection. All true, of course, but what I’d actually been thinking was that Faerie needed worker unions. The entire society was run by favoritism and nepotism. My appointment as probationary head of the FIB when I’d never even been an agent was case in point. Also, the fact that I was stepping into Falin’s old job, which in matters regarding the mortal realm in winter’s territory made me the most powerful authority figure second to the king himself, was terrifying. Oh, and my boyfriend being my boss was weird. Of course, having a boyfriend was weird . . . and that sounded terribly juvenile.

  “If I didn’t think you were suited for the job, I wouldn’t have appointed you. I need someone I trust protecting my interests as well as representing my subjects in the mortal realm. You’re observant, you’re quick-witted, and I’ve witnessed you stubbornly pursue your cases as a PI. You’ll be great in this role.”

  He was considerably more confident in my abilities than I was. I’d list my skills more along the lines of stumbling
into the most dangerous situation possible and then managing to insert myself into the thick of it. At least my track record for surviving such situations was pretty good . . .

  I forced a weak smile. “I should go,” I said, and then stepped closer to give him one last kiss. This one I kept chaste, just a quick brush of the lips so neither of us got distracted—he had places to be, after all. Then I made my good-byes, handed my practice dagger back to him, and headed back to mortal reality.

  Chapter 2

  As I’d expected, the door dumped me back into the mortal realm at a time consistent with how long I’d spent inside Faerie. It seemed silly to be upset about not being able to cheat a few extra hours into a day, but I couldn’t deny my disappointment. I’d found very few perks to my recently discovered fae nature, and now I’d apparently lost one of them.

  At least I’d anticipated it this time and hadn’t driven to the Bloom. Years of using my gravesight—not to mention the extra damage that had been caused by peering across planes with my planeweaving—had left much to be desired in my night vision. If I’d driven, my car would be stuck here for the night, as I was going to have to get a ride home.

  I reclaimed the items I’d checked before entering Faerie. Iron was the only item I was required to check, but Faerie didn’t tend to get along well with technology, so I’d made a habit of not bringing my phone into the VIP room of the Eternal Bloom. The bouncer handed it back to me, and maybe he smiled, but I wasn’t sure around the mouthful of jagged teeth protruding around his calloused-looking lips. I decided to err on the side of polite and gave him a small smile and nod as I accepted the phone. Then I headed out the front door of the Bloom, searching for a taxi.

  Some nights, several idled outside the Eternal Bloom, hoping for a quick fare, but not tonight. It was a Sunday, so I wasn’t all that surprised. I pulled up a ride-share app to summon a car. After I’d provided all the pertinent information and got an estimate of the cost, the app informed me that I had a fourteen-minute wait. Not terrible, but I didn’t relish the idea of spending nearly fifteen minutes in the cold. While I’d been perfectly comfortable in the winter halls of ice and snow in just my skimpy black dress, January in Nekros on the mortal side of the door was far less pleasant. No snow or ice, but the night held that wet cold that sank right through my heavy coat and straight into my bones, chilling me with the first gust of wind that tore down the street of the Magic Quarter.

  I headed back into the Bloom, but not the VIP room this time—while my phone would probably be fine in the pocket of Faerie that housed the door to the winter court, cell service was spotty at best and I actually wanted to catch my ride when it arrived. Instead I headed into the public part of the bar, which I typically avoided, as it was an overpriced tourist trap where humans went to stare at unglamoured fae. The bar was comfortably busy, most tables taken but not standing room only like I’d seen it at times. Still, a decent crowd for a Sunday.

  I kept my head down as I claimed a table in the back, trying not to draw attention. Until recently, I’d had a chameleon charm that hid my few fae traits, like the telltale glow that seemed to light my skin from within. But the same magical shift that had made the doors behave differently for me had also canceled out the chameleon charm’s ability to hide my nature. The bar was dim enough that my slight glow was noticeable, so a few heads looked up with curiosity as I settled into a seat, but I was far from the most interesting fae in the room. The whole purpose of this tourist trap was to allow mortals to gawk at fae. From the human perspective, it was a rare novelty. For the fae, it helped cement human belief, and mortal belief was what fueled Faerie magic. The fae who worked in the bar tended to be the more flamboyant and obvious kinds. Like the satyr who pranced on hooves as he retrieved drinks, or the green-skinned woman who waited tables, her feet barely seeming to touch the floor. A singer performed on the stage on the far side of the room, gills flashing at her throat as she took deep breaths between lines and holding her microphone with fingers joined by membranous webbing. I couldn’t understand the words to the song she sang, but her sweet voice called up a longing for the sea in me, and I guessed she was some sort of siren. Looking at some of the enthralled faces around the room—most of them male—I wondered how safe it was for a siren to perform for humans. None seemed particularly inclined to run off and drown themselves, but now that I was going to be head of the Fae Investigation Bureau, maybe that would be a question I’d look into.

  The siren had just finished her third song when the cocktail waitress, a fae with a shock of brambles for hair, waltzed over to my table. I’d declined to order a drink when I first sat down, hoping I’d be out of here before she made another round. Apparently my time had run out.

  “I’m about to leave,” I said, glancing at my phone. Fourteen minutes had passed already; the car had to be here soon.

  The waitress smiled. “Well, then I’m sure your admirer will be disappointed. He sent this.” She held out a rose so deeply red it was nearly the color of blood.

  I frowned, not taking the offered rose. “Who sent it?” It couldn’t have been Falin. He was tied up in court. Of course, the doors were acting funny for me, not him. It was possible he could have spent several hours with the delegates and then managed to slip into the mortal realm only minutes after I arrived.

  The briar fae turned, lifting a willowy hand to point out my admirer, but the motion faltered before landing on anyone. “Oh. He is gone.”

  Definitely not Falin then.

  My phone pinged, an alert from the ride-share app letting me know my car had arrived. Thank goodness. I stood, shrugging into my heavy coat.

  “You keep the rose,” I said as I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. She made a sound of protest behind me, but I didn’t stop.

  The car at the curb matched the model my app said would be picking me up so I leaned down to peer into the passenger-side window. The driver lowered it automatically.

  “Ms. Craft?” he asked and I nodded before climbing into the backseat. Nausea twisted in my stomach as I pulled the door closed behind me, but that wasn’t the driver’s fault. It was the iron in the car. Unfortunately the ride-share app didn’t have an option to request fae-friendly vehicles. But it wouldn’t be a long drive. I could stomach the discomfort from the Bloom to my house. I just hoped the driver wasn’t chatty.

  Unfortunately, he was.

  He confirmed the address I was headed to, and then immediately began telling me about the fact that he was actually a full-time college student studying something to do with magical convergences—I tuned him out pretty quick as he rambled without pausing to breathe.

  “So what do you do, Lexi?” he asked as he pulled to a stop at a red light.

  I’d been focusing on not getting sick in the backseat, but at that, my head shot up. The sick feeling in me turned cold.

  “What did you call me?”

  “Uh, Lexi? The guy who came out before you said you were a friend and that your name was Lexi. And he—holy shit, your eyes are glowing! I mean, you were kind of glowy before, but now . . . geez.”

  I didn’t doubt my eyes had just lit up like lanterns. I’d opened my shields so that I could gaze across planes. I’d almost expected the man’s features to change, to reveal a different face hidden under a glamour, despite the sickening amount of iron in the car around us. But he didn’t change, and from the look of his cheery yellow soul, he was human.

  Behind us, a car honked several angry beeps. With my psyche gazing across multiple planes of existence, I couldn’t make out the color of the traffic light, as it now looked rusted and broken, but I guessed it must have turned green. Still the driver was staring at me, his eyes a little too wide.

  “It’s, uh, not Lexi then?” he asked.

  I shook my head. Only two people had ever used that nickname for me: the insane—and now deceased—Winter Queen, and her treacherous and maniacal nephew, Ryese.<
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  “What did the guy who told you that was my name look like?”

  “Uh, I don’t know. Short blond hair? Tall? Normal?”

  The last time I’d seen Ryese, “normal” wouldn’t have been a description I would have applied to him, as he’d been badly disfigured from iron poisoning. From what I’d been told, glamour couldn’t hide scars caused by iron. But if it hadn’t been Ryese, who else would have called me Lexi?

  “He, uh, he told me to give you these when we reached your house.” The driver lifted two bloodred roses from the passenger seat beside him. Roses just like the one the briar fae had said an admirer had sent.

  “I don’t want them.” In fact, I didn’t want to be in this car anymore. How far was I from the house? Would it be smarter to get out and walk? Or would that be a really dumb idea if Ryese or one of his associates was out there in the night?

  The horn blasted behind us again, and the driver jumped, only now seeming to notice the sound. He twisted back around in his seat, letting off the brakes and hitting the gas a little too fast, making the car lurch. I considered closing my shields again, as my glowing gaze was clearly freaking him out and I didn’t want to die in a flaming car accident. But if Ryese was in Nekros, I didn’t want to be blind.

  I settled for staring out the window, the world flashing by in a chaotic mix of colors and planes of existence with my shields open. The driver, who had been so chatty before, now remained completely silent, exceeding every speed limit, clearly as ready to have me out of his car as I was to get out.

  I’d already paid him through the app, so when he stopped in front of the house address I’d given him, I simply opened the car door and stepped outside, drawing the dagger from my boot as discreetly as I could. Maybe it was not quite discreet enough, or maybe he was still freaking out about my glowing eyes and the awkwardness of the drive, because the driver peeled out as soon as I slammed the car door, his tires squealing and leaving the scent of burnt rubber behind.