Grave Visions (Alex Craft, #4)(77)
Like the amaranthine tree. And the fact Jenny was still out there.
? ? ?
“We could cut it down,” I said, staring at the sapling. The trunk was no thicker than my thumb, and my dagger was enchanted to slice through nearly any material. It would be easy.
Falin frowned at me. “It’s considered taboo to harm amaranthine trees. They are sacred to Faerie.”
“So what happens to it then? Will the courts build another bar around it, like the Eternal Bloom?” The tree was deep inside a federal nature preserve—I doubted the government would like it if the fae announced they were commandeering this land. “Any clue what it’s doing here anyway?”
Falin appraised the sapling. “There are many different kinds of doors to Faerie, but amaranthine trees are always permanent doors and are epicenters for belief magic to filter in from the mortal realm. A new tree hasn’t appeared naturally in recent memory, and from what I’ve heard, all attempts to propagate one has failed.”
We both stared at the tree. Clearly someone had succeeded. We were far too close to the tree in the Eternal Bloom for this one to be natural.
“Is there any way to tell where it leads?”
Falin walked around the tree. I’d considered trying that when I first saw it, but okay, I admit it, I chickened out. Now I held my breath as he rounded the back of the sapling. I waited for him to disappear into Faerie, but nothing happened. He returned to the spot where he’d started and shook his head. “Maybe whatever means was used to create it couldn’t duplicate its doorway properties.”
“Or maybe it just needs to mature more,” I said, because while it might not be a gate we could travel through yet, the tree was definitely syphoning belief magic. I hadn’t been able to identify the trail of magic I’d followed to the tree, but now that I knew what I was looking at, it made sense. The Bloom drew in so much magic in a continual stream that it built up around the building in a gradual way; a gradient change that was likely responsible for the mixed realities in the VIP room. This young tree had such a thin stream of magic that it was almost more noticeable because of the thin but concentrated strand I’d all but tripped over.
“You couldn’t compel Jenny Greenteeth to respond when you tried to summon her. You said any denizens or independents of winter should have no choice but to respond to the court’s knight, unless they were noble or sworn to a noble. I assumed that meant the latter since she didn’t appear when you called her, and she’s in winter’s territory without signs of fading. But with the tree so close to where she made her home . . .” I trailed of, organizing my thoughts. “Could she be tied to another court entirely? Here to guard the tree as a new court establishes a foothold? The tree providing her tie back to her own court and supplying the magic needed to sustain her?”
“Maybe, but it’s doubtful. With no gate, all the magic the tree is absorbing is likely fueling its own growth.” Falin knelt beside the tree and brushed his thumb over its smooth bark. “Most likely she is tied to a winter noble, possibly one who formed some manner of alliance with another court.” Falin frowned down at the sapling. “But this tree’s existence makes no sense. Faerie naturally balances the territories when the doors shift. Different seasons wax and wane in power as the year passes, but adding another door would only encourage Faerie to split territory differently the next time the doors moved. The seasons always remain relatively balanced.”
“Should the queen have noticed this sapling leaching from her power base here in Nekros?” I asked.
“She’s been rather distracted,” Falin said.
It was true. And maybe that was the point. I’d been trying to figure out what the alchemist would gain by kidnapping and draining fae, leaving the ghastly display he had with Icelynne’s bones, and distributing Glitter to mortals where it caused horrific, high-profile deaths. Maybe this tree explained all those actions. Maybe they were all distractions.
I thought back to what the nightmare kingling had said when we’d met in my dream. That realms of the imagination were the purview of the light fae. “What if it wasn’t a season? What if it was the light court?” Or shadow? They are certainly dwindling in power and could use a way to gather more. But Dugan had sworn the bogeymen weren’t working for his court. Could he simply not know?
“Light and shadow don’t have doors.”
“I know. But amaranthine trees don’t just appear, either. And like you said, it doesn’t make sense for another season to try so hard to establish an extra door—they could lose it at any time when Faerie next rearranges itself.”
Falin gave a one-shouldered half shrug that didn’t actually communicate anything. And that was likely the point. After a few long moments, he said, “Assuming what you’re suggesting is possible, light is the least likely to be orchestrating this invasive takeover. They are the only court that has stood by the queen in her recent . . . troubles . . . and not sent a challenger to duel for her throne. The Queen of Light is the Winter Queen’s sister.”
My mouth formed a silent O as I let that sink in. The ruling class of Faerie were not a very diverse bunch. Of course, when you lived as long as the fae, alliances through marriages and births were bound to tie a small population together.
I hugged my arms over my chest, trying to quell the shiver threatening to tremble through me. Pond-soaked clothing was certainly not the warmest outfit. Falin glanced up, his gaze lingering over the gooseflesh visible on my arms. Then he stood and without a word, walked to the edge of the clearing. Reaching up, he grabbed a huge hunk of Spanish moss that dangled from one of the bottom branches of a tree.