Grave Visions (Alex Craft, #4)(63)

This sage advice imparted, she turned and shuffled away, her wooden clogs loud on the hardwood floor. I stared after her and shook my head. This place always had interesting characters. I didn’t know what type of fae she was, or if she was fae, though it could be assumed she was, but I had no doubt that somewhere lost in time there was a tale about her.

I turned back toward the tree. “Might as well,” I muttered, and as the old woman had suggested, I walked through the “door.” The bar blurred, melted, and the halls of the winter court snapped into cold relief around me.

“Lady Planeweaver,” a snowy-cloaked guard said, stepping from who-knew-where and into my path. He gave me a small bow. “The queen awaits you.”

Under his cloak, I could see the edges of his ice armor and the hilt of a huge sword at this waist, but with his hood pulled down and his head toward the floor in his bow, I could see nothing of his face. I waited for him to straighten, but the seconds stretched.

“Uh, lead on,” I said, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot.

Thankfully, the guard straightened, turned on his heel and started down the corridor. I followed, knowing it was likely futile to try to memorize which turns we took, but that didn’t stop me from trying. Of course, I suspected they changed and rearranged themselves after we passed. I was never going to learn to navigate Faerie.

My guiding guard stopped in front of a threshold and stepped aside without a word. Like any door in Faerie, it appeared to lead nowhere so could go anywhere. I assumed it led to the queen. Well, looked like this was it. I took a deep breath and stepped through the threshold.

? ? ?

The space beyond the threshold was smaller than I anticipated. Most of the rooms I’d seen in the winter court had been large and dauntingly impressive. This one was no larger than the reception room at Tongues for the Dead. The walls were the same ice-crusted architecture I’d seen elsewhere, the ceiling lost in swirls of snowflakes that never touched the floor, but this room was much more intimate. Two plush couches sat facing each other in the center of the room, a coffee table carved of ice between them.

The queen paced in front of these couches. She looked up as I entered. Her normally perfect curls were slightly frizzed today and the icicles on her gown appeared to be melting, which I hadn’t even known was possible. Her gaze fell on me, her blue eyes feverish. Was she unwell?

Beyond the queen, his posture rigid, sat Falin. A nasty-looking gash bisected his cheek from the corner of his eye to the edge of his mouth, and a bloody bandage showed under the sleeve of his shirt, just above his elbow. From his slightly pained posture, those weren’t the only wounds he sported. My first instinct was to rush to him and see how badly he was hurt, but I ground my heels to the spot. Ignoring the queen to rush to her knight’s side sounded like a dangerous choice. Particularly now. There was something off about her.

Falin was alone on his couch. Lyell and Maeve sat on the opposite one. Ryese leaned against the arm of the couch. He was staring at nothing, and didn’t look up as I entered. I wasn’t even sure he’d noticed my arrival. The fourth council member, Blayne, was missing.

“About time,” the queen said, tossing her disheveled curls. “I want a full update. Your missive said you had information on the case for my knight. Where are you on finding this menace in my court?”

Actually, the letter had said I needed to discuss the case with Falin. It didn’t say I had any new information. And it hadn’t been sent to her.

Not that I was going to point out any of those things. It was only yesterday she’d sent Ryese for a progress report. I was working as fast as I could. I had actually learned something new, but I wasn’t sure how much closer that information put me to the alchemist. I let my gaze slide past her again until it snagged on Falin. He was watching me, his expression grave, intent. Then his eyes flickered to the queen as she began pacing again, her movements jerky, her stride graceless.

“Are you well, your majesty?” I asked, and then immediately regretted the question as she rounded on me, those feverish eyes slamming into me like a physical weight.

“What I am, Lexi, is under attack in my own court and betrayed by those I trusted. You were supposed to be looking into it. Or, perhaps, you are in on it?”

A shock of panic ran through me, a sour jolt of fear. I tried to keep my too wide eyes from moving to Falin. He couldn’t help me, and looking away would make me look guilty. Not what I wanted. Ryese had mentioned there were questions as to the queen’s fitness to rule, between the pressure of challengers to her throne and Icelynne’s bones displayed in clear threat, the queen was feeling the stress. I didn’t want to get ripped to shreds in her wake. I tried to calm the panic, or at least hide it, and school my face to something more placating.

“I meant no disrespect,” I said, dropping my gaze to the icy floor. “I have a lead I’m following. Two bogeymen. A hobgoblin named Tommy Rawhead and a hag named Jenny Greenteeth. I believe they are connected to the case.” I paused and chanced a glance up. The queen had gone still, her mouth twisting downward. “Are you familiar with them, your majesty?”

Her lips pursed, buckling in an expression that made her pretty face much less so. “No. Knight? Council?”

Maeve and Lyell glanced at each other, too much of the whites of their eyes flashing before both shook their heads. Falin rose, the motion slow, clearly painful. He walked to the queen’s side. He didn’t limp, or hold himself, but his stride lacked the predatory grace I was accustomed to from him. How badly had he been hurt? I couldn’t ask. Not yet at least.