Grave Dance (Alex Craft, #2)(107)

I scanned the crowd again and noticed that several of the fae were tethered with cords that dripped down their ankles and disappeared into the floor. Prisoners? Not al of them.

Not even most of them. But enough to be more than a smal number, and al were the wilder type of fae who tended toward declaring themselves independent of a court.

I frowned at the extravagant bal around me. Extravagant farce might be more like it. The magic snow fal ing around me lost its charm, the beautiful and horrendous dancers their appeal. I was gritting my teeth by the time we broke free of the crowd of dancers to approach a dais of carved ice.

The singer I’d been hearing stood at the base of the dais, his pointy elbows sticking out at awkward angles as fingers with their too many joints plucked notes from a large harp.

His oversized nose bobbed, his voice lifting in melodies that would pack any concert hal . As I approached, he fixed dark, reproachful eyes on me. Malik. An icy cord bound him in place, but he never missed a note.

Above him, in the center of the dais, a woman sat on a large, glimmering throne of ice. Her soul shimmered a bril iant silver under her already pale skin, making her radiant as she gazed down at me with a stare that threatened frostbite if met too long. Her features were sharp enough to wound, but her red lips were plump, offering a touch of soft femininity to her face. Icicles dripped like diamonds from her long gown and a glimmering layer of frost encased the perfect dark curls fal ing around her face.

Even if she hadn’t been on the throne, I doubted she could have been mistaken for anything but a queen. She was breathtaking, and I stared. I couldn’t help it. She was was breathtaking, and I stared. I couldn’t help it. She was the kind of beautiful you wanted to be near, hoping it would rub off. I wanted to make her smile just to see the expression soften her face. To make her laugh to know if her voice would be musical. I stumbled forward, barely aware of my own feet. From the bag stil slung across my chest, PC let out a loud, happy-sounding yip.

I blinked, snapped out of my daze by the sound. Oh, I stil felt the need to make the Winter Queen smile, felt it with every nerve in my being, but the need was no longer al -

encompassing. Enchantment? I didn’t know, but I would be more careful from now on. I looked away and realized for the first time that she wasn’t alone on the dais. Beside her, standing with one hand on her shoulder, was Falin.





Chapter 30


“Welcome to my court,planeweaver,”the queen said, leaning forward.

I barely noticed. I was stil reeling from the sight of Falin.

Of him standing beside her. Of him touching her. My mouth went dry, and even Malik’s soulful voice faded to a buzz in my ears. Something in my chest had frozen. Maybe it was my lungs, because I couldn’t seem to breathe.

He’s with her. And of course he was. Look at her. She was . . . And look at me in my tank top and hip-huggers with a giant pink chalk handprint on one thigh, my hair in a snarl of tangles after being whipped around by the wind tearing out of the land of the dead. I clenched my fists at my sides.

I’d known Falin was the queen’s lover. I’d known.

Falin wasn’t looking at me, but staring straight ahead, over the dancers. Heat burned in my cheeks.

Embarrassment, maybe. Anger, definitely. At him. At me.

I tore my gaze away. I had work to do: a reaper’s accomplice to unearth and a friend to rescue. Wel , actual y, more than one friend—I wasn’t leaving Caleb a slave in the winter court.

When I turned I found the queen’s sharp gaze on me, watching, assessing.

“You’re staring at my knight,” she said, reaching up to stroke his hand where it rested on her shoulder. “Are you wondering about the chain? He has been . . . unpredictable, of late. Let it not worry your mind.”

I blinked, and only then did I realize that a finger-thick chain, the links formed of glimmering ice, bound Falin to his chain, the links formed of glimmering ice, bound Falin to his queen. What the hell is going on?

He didn’t act like a prisoner, but then again, he also didn’t act like he wanted to be there. Aside from the hand touching her shoulder, he didn’t acknowledge her any more than he acknowledged me. Of course, the chain binding him was thin, and it was only ice. If he wanted to break it, I was sure he could. Stop thinking about it, Alex.

“I have thrown this bal in your honor,” the queen said, drawing my attention back to her. “Do you like it?”

I opened my mouth and then snapped it closed again.

Play this smart, Alex. It didn’t matter if I wanted to pul out al of the queen’s perfect hair right this minute. I was talking to a regent in a place where I didn’t know the rules. I had to be

very, very careful. But I also couldn’t lie. That complicates things.

I looked around. “It’s enchanting.”

“It is, isn’t it?” She smiled. “While I firmly believe one never needs a reason for a bal , I also think one should celebrate a newly awakened Sleagh Maith joining a court.”

Uh, except I hadn’t. From what Rianna and my father had said, I was pretty sure that choosing a court was, wel , a choice. I pasted on a smile and rubbed PC’s ears.

“Congratulations. And who aligned with the winter court today?”

She frowned. “My dear, you awakened in my territory. Of course you wil join my court.”

But she said “wil join,” which meant my assumption was correct: the choice came down to me. “I intend to see a bit more of Faerie before I commit to anything,” I said, and then added, “I’ve heard the high court has golden hal s.”