Grave Visions (Alex Craft, #4)(23)
I expected Falin to lead the way, but he simply stopped, waiting. It didn’t take long to learn what he was waiting for. Two guards in snowy white cloaks and armor that looked to be carved from solid ice stepped out of seemingly nowhere into the hall in front of us.
“Knight. Planeweaver. Her majesty awaits you,” the one on the right said. His hand hovered over his large sword, but he didn’t draw it. I took a step closer to Falin, but when the guards turned and led the way through the maze of ice caverns, I followed without comment.
Though I’d been to the winter court before, I couldn’t have navigated the caverns on my own if my life had depended on it. They all looked the same: endless corridors lined with countless doorways and ice-carved sentinels that I knew from experience would come to life at the queen’s will. I glanced at some of the doorways as we passed, but they told me nothing. As far as I could tell, unless you knew where you were going, it was impossible to know what was on the other side of a door until you stepped through it. The last time I’d been here I’d stepped into what looked to be an empty storage closet and ended up in an enormous ballroom filled with courtiers. The time before Rianna had led me through what appeared to be a solid wall into limbo. Yeah, Faerie was not my favorite place.
I’d lost count of how many turns we’d taken when the two guards finally stopped in front of what appeared to me to be another indistinguishable door. While it may have appeared so to me, the choice caused Falin to lift one eyebrow, his critical gaze studying the guards. They bowed ever so slightly and backed away without a word, leaving us alone in front of the door.
“Is something wrong?” I asked as quietly as I could and still be heard.
Falin frowned, but after a moment shook his head. “No. This is not where I expected to be taken, but if this is where the queen wishes to have an audience with us, then it is her choice. Let’s go.”
He stepped through the doorway, vanishing the moment he passed the icy frame. I glanced around. Aside from the ice sentinels, I appeared to be alone. The two guards had disappeared down another corridor and there was no one else here. I once again considered turning tail and running, but where would I go? I had no idea how to get back to the pillar that marked the exit, nor any idea what lay beyond any of the doors in this or any other corridor.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped through the threshold.
Chapter 7
A hand caught my arm as soon as I emerged from the threshold and, before I could get my bearings, dragged me downward, into the . . . snow? Falin was beside me, kneeling low. I eyed the snow under my feet. It glistened in a fluffy white sheet all around me, but though it looked deep, my boots remained on top of it, not making an impression. Still, I didn’t want to kneel in it, so I let Falin tug me into a low curtsy, but not all the way to the ground. My knees protested the less than familiar pose, but Falin didn’t release me, so I was forced to hold the curtsy. While his grip kept me locked in the awkward position, it didn’t prevent me from looking up.
What I assumed would be a room, wasn’t. We were in a small clearing. Pale trees, their bare branches weighted with snow, ringed the clearing, including behind me. Which meant the door I’d passed through had vanished. Great.
The Winter Queen paced several feet in front of me. She was a vision of Sleagh Maith beauty. Tall and lithe, her snow-white gown clung to her, accentuating her understated but feminine curves. Her dark hair hung around her heart-shaped face in perfect ringlets, glistening ice crystals kissing the curls. She was entrancing, either her magic or her presence making those around her wish to please her, to admire her. I’d had to fight the pull of those enchantments the first time I’d met her. Today it was simpler as she was making no attempt to dazzle me. In fact, I wasn’t sure she’d noticed we’d entered the room. Her full red lips were tugged downward in a scowl and her movements were jerky, her fingers clutching the skirt of her gown as she paced.
Behind her, a long mahogany table was out of place in the snow-covered clearing. Four fae sat around the table. One I recognized on sight: Ryese, the queen’s nephew. Saying he smiled at me when he caught my gaze would be an overstatement. It was more a smug glower. He lifted a crystal flute filled with golden liquid in a silent toast, and my stomach made a painful twist.
Ryese had spent the last couple of months trying to seduce me, and while he was handsome enough—most Sleagh Maith were unearthly gorgeous—arrogant entitlement didn’t appeal to me. My continual rejection irritated him, and more than once I’d glimpsed a very nasty cloud of anger behind his pretty features. His eyes, with irises so light they almost looked white except for a pale blue outer ring, gleamed in the fae light, and the mocking greeting made me fear the worst about why I may have been summoned to court.
Beside him sat a female Sleagh Maith. Her chestnut-colored hair was piled high on her head and woven through with mistletoe, the white berries hanging down like gems around her face. Her gown was the color of an evergreen dusted with snow and decorated with more mistletoe accents. She studied me with inquisitive eyes as green as my own, but her features were carefully placid, controlled.
Across from her was a blond-haired fae. At first glance I assumed he was just another Sleagh Maith, but something about the arrangement of his features made me second-guess that assessment. It was nothing I could point to and say that one thing made him different. It was the height of his forehead, the width between his eyes, the shape of his ears, the angle of his jaw—nearly every feature—was just a little off, a little more other, than the other Sleagh Maith I’d met.