Grave Dance (Alex Craft, #2)(117)

Thick, dark blood coated, or more accurately, saturated, Falin’s palm. That didn’t completely surprise me. I’d seen Falin kil before. Hel , he’d kil ed, or at least mortal y injured, a gremlin to rescue me before we were even friends. The depth of the blood did shock me, at least a little. I could almost see it pooling on his skin, as if it would drip at any moment. How many had to die at his hands for there to be so much blood?

so much blood?

He looked at me, just a quick cut of a glance, and whatever he saw in my face made his shoulders tighten so fast his hand jerked back an inch. I don’t know what I’d shown him, or if he’d only seen in my expression what he expected, but as he started to pul on his glove I jumped to my feet. I reached out for him, for his bloody hand. Yeah, the blood freaked me out, the fact he’d kil ed that many people scared the hel out of me, but I trusted that they needed kil ing. And besides, I wasn’t exactly in a position to judge anyone for the blood on their hands.

When I reached for his hand, he jerked away from me.

“Don’t.”

“I know it doesn’t spread or wipe off,” I told him.

He took a step farther back, stil out of my reach, and studied my face as he pul ed on his glove. “That’s right, you touched the Shadow King.” He shook his head. “I would never touch you with these hands, Alex. Not here.”

I stared at him. Then I rol ed down the top of one of the long opera gloves the queen had created for me and pul ed it off my fingers. I held up my own bloody hand.

Falin’s eyes flew wide. “No,” he whispered, shaking his head. Then he grabbed my hand in both of his gloved ones.

“No, Alex. Who—” He stopped. “Coleman.”

I nodded. “I’m not exactly lily white either.”

He gently pushed my fingers until they curled over my palm, then closed my entire fist in his hands. “You shouldn’t be stained by this. Let me take it from you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let me take the stain from you.” He led me back to the bed as he spoke, which was good, as I was starting to get that electrical vertigo that happens every time you blink when you’re real y, real y tired. I covered a yawn with the back of my stil -gloved hand as I sank down onto the bed, and he said, “I don’t know if I can take it from someone outside my court, but let me try.”

I blinked at him, my exhaustion making the conversation I blinked at him, my exhaustion making the conversation harder to fol ow. Then a very important fact from what he said hit me. “Wait—so the blood on your hands, it’s not al from people you kil ed. You took the stain from other people?”

“I have kil ed enough, Alex, believe me. But no, only a drop of it is blood that I personal y spil ed. I carry al the victims of the winter court. The taint from every duel, every monarch who kil ed to rise to or ensure power, and every soldier who kil ed in every war since the very first winter came to the world.”

My stomach gave a little somersault. “How old are you?”

“Not so old as you’re thinking right now,” he said, and he smiled for the first time since this conversation began. “I was born after the Magical Awakening, and I took on the role of the queen’s bloodied hands only a few decades ago. There have been many more before me who kil ed at the queen’s bidding and carried the court’s taint.”

“So, circling back to my original question, they hate you because you have the worst job ever?”

He smiled again, but this time it was not a happy one.

“Some hate. Some fear. Some are simply repulsed. I carry a lot of death on my hands. Nearly immortal beings do not like to be reminded of their mortality. The blood also gives me some benefits that make the other fae distrustful. Any weapon that I wield is deadly, even if it might not normal y be so to fae. Wounds that I inflict are more likely to be fatal, while I can survive wounds that would normal y kil —”

Yeah, I’ve seen that one firsthand.

“—The blood also passed to me knowledge and skil s from the warriors who came before me, so despite the fact that I am little more than a child according to many of the fae, I can battle the ancients and possibly win. That scares the fae, and makes me rather unwelcome.”

I could see why. I crawled farther up on the bed and Falin fol owed.

“Let me take this taint from you. It would make no

“Let me take this taint from you. It would make no difference to me, but al the difference to you.”

“No.” I pul ed my hand from him and fought the opera glove back over my fingers. While I wanted the blood gone, it wouldn’t be right to give it away. I’d been the one who kil ed Coleman. Hel , I’d more than kil ed him, I’d cannibalized his soul , which had to be worse. While Falin might be able to take away the blood that Faerie forced to manifest on my hands, he couldn’t remove the fact that I’d taken a life. I’d made a decision, and even if it haunted my nightmares, I stil thought it was the right decision.

Once I’d pul ed on the glove, I col apsed in the middle of the bed beside PC. The pil ows were down and soft, the sheets under me silk and smooth. My eyes closed.

“Alex, you want to lose the dress, or at least the boots?” I didn’t bother opening my eyes. “Not real y.” I was going to sleep—probably whether I liked it or not. Besides, I didn’t know what kind of wake-up cal the king planned for the morning. I didn’t want to be caught half dressed or barefoot.