Grave Visions (Alex Craft, #4)(54)

Finally I just scratched down a quick message stating that I was at the Bloom and asking him to meet me. I was about to crumble the leaf when it occurred to me that it would probably be polite to mention something about the bouquet he’d sent. I scratched out I got the roses. They are but then I paused, tapping the leaf with the quill. Finally I finished with pretty, which sounded rather pathetic, but I’d already written it. Signing the letter, I crumbled it to dust and let the particles float away.

Just one letter left, but it was arguably the hardest. The last leaf I addressed to Kyran, usurper kingling of the nightmare realm. I’d met him only once, months ago, and he was . . . different. I had no real tie to him, and there was no reason beyond his own curiosity that he would agree to meet with me. Hopefully that was enough. As with my letter to Dugan, I wrote that I would be having dinner at the Bloom and asked him to meet me. Then I signed and crumbled the leaf. That done, I returned the quill and extra leaves to the cyclops before making a hasty retreat to the table where Holly and Caleb sat.

The table had already been laid, full of golden loaves of corn bread, pitchers of what I could only guess was ale, and bowls of stew brimming with large chunks of meat, potatoes, and veggies. It wasn’t quite as grand a meal as I was accustomed to at the Bloom, but meals were served based on perceived rank, and neither Caleb nor Holly had much in the way of rank in Faerie. The waiters always laid out a feast when I was the first to the table. Honestly, it was awkward, and I was happy for the hearty stew.

I sat down, helping myself to a generous portion of corn bread. Today’s waiter, a fae I couldn’t name the family of with an iridescent purplish tinge to his skin, hurried over with another bowl of soup and a tankard in his hands, but stopped short a few paces away.

“I’ll bring something more suitable,” he said, starting to turn.

I held up a hand. “The stew looks great.”

The fae waiter looked down at the bowl on his tray before pointing his three-fingered hand back over his shoulder. “It would only take me a moment to—”

“I’d like the stew,” I said, cutting him off before he could scurry away. Holly pressed a hand over her mouth, and I got the distinct impression she was hiding a smile under her fingers.

The waiter wavered, glancing toward the kitchen—or whatever they called the area where food was prepared. It certainly wasn’t cooked, and actually, it was a little questionable if it was food or not. Faerie food was both real and not real. I wasn’t completely sure what it started out as, but if you tried to remove it from Faerie, it turned into toadstools, which quickly rotted away. But inside Faerie it was tasty and filling.

For a moment I thought I was going to have to either let the waiter retrieve a feast or cause a scene by demanding he leave the stew, but after one more uncertain look over his shoulder, he conceded to setting the bowl on the table. He bowed as he did so, placing the tankard of ale beside the bowl.

I had the urge to groan, but restrained myself, instead giving him a tight-lipped smile. Still bent in half, he backed away three steps before turning and hightailing it away.

Now Holly did laugh. “Perhaps we should call you ‘Your highness.’”

I tossed a piece of corn bread at her, which only made her giggle harder. I turned to Caleb. “Any way to make the fae here not react that way again? What gives; it didn’t seem this bad the last time I was here.”

Caleb just shrugged. “Your fae mien is more obvious these days, and your glamour leaves something to be desired.”

As in I didn’t have any glamour—not any I knew how to use properly at least. I had to work on that.

“Sleagh Maith don’t socialize with us lowly independents much,” Caleb said, scooping a large chunk of meat onto his spoon.

“So I’m descended from pretentious *s, gotcha.” I sighed again, and then forced myself to focus on the stew, which was delicious but I was eating mindlessly. I might as well enjoy it. I didn’t eat Faerie food that often. Until recently I hadn’t realized I could. But it posed no threat to me.

I’d polished off half my bowl when the waiter scurried over. I was honestly worried that he might try to whisk away the remainder of my soup and insist I let him lay out a banquet or something, but he just bowed and held out two large leaves.

I accepted them gingerly, so I didn’t crush them, and almost thanked the waiter—some habits die hard. I stopped myself at the last moment, nodding at him instead. He hurried away, looking relieved to escape our table.

“What’s that?” Holly asked, leaning forward to peer at the leaves.

“Replies, I guess.”

I read the first leaf. It was from Rianna, and the message was the same as her last. It read only Hurry.

“I’m trying,” I mumbled under my breath, crumbling the leaf.

The second reply was from Dugan. It was considerably longer.

While I would grant my betrothed any wish her heart desires, the location you have chosen is problematic. I do not have leave to pass freely through winter’s court. Meet me instead in the pocket space where we saw each other before. I will await you with great anticipation.

–Dugan

The pocket space from before? Great. Now I was going to have to see my father.

? ? ?

As the time spent inside the Bloom had little effect on the amount of time that passed in mortal reality, I put off leaving as long as possible, nursing my soup until Holly and Caleb threatened to leave without me. As I hadn’t driven, and it was after dark, that wasn’t an option I relished. Still, I was also waiting for one more reply, but if Kyran received my message, he didn’t write me back or meet me in the Bloom. The other issue was with the leaving of the Bloom in general. I felt pretty good during dinner, but I knew the effects of fading would crash back down on me the moment I stepped out the door.