Grave Visions (Alex Craft, #4)(89)

Something crashed into the side of the head, just behind the temple. The world shattered—or maybe that was whatever Ryese had smashed against my skull—and pain exploded behind my eyes.

I reeled, my head spinning. The ground rushed up to meet me, knocking my already shaky breath out of me.

Ryese followed me down, planting his knees in my chest. Cold slush soaked into my clothes as Ryese’s long fingers wrapped around my throat, denying me air. I thrashed, clawing at his shoulders as I kicked my legs. He’d situated himself higher this time, keeping all his bits and pieces out of range of my flailing legs.

“Do you enjoy the work of the fae you got murdered?” he asked, his hands tightening around my throat until black spots burst behind my eyes.

Work? He had to be talking about Tommy Rawhead, but what work? Distributing the Glitter? I didn’t have the breath to ask. My head pounded and my lungs burned, needing air I couldn’t draw with Ryese crushing my ribs, my windpipe.

“He was valuable to me.” Ryese squeezed harder. “He worked hard as long as I threw him my scraps. Changelings or lesser fae, it didn’t matter. Oh, he said they weren’t as good as children, but he still accepted with gusto. And bonus, no bodies for anyone to find. Just a pile of bones.”

I tried to swallow, but I couldn’t do that any more than draw air. That didn’t stop my stomach from rolling. Rawhead had eaten the fae Ryese drained. This was his . . . lair? Dumping ground?

“But you. You’re always in the way.” Another flex of his fingers. “You couldn’t have just cooperated, could you?” He leaned forward, close enough that spit hit my face as he yelled. “If you’d simply agreed to a union, my dear aunt would have officially recognized me as prince of the winter court and the line of succession would have made this all so much easier. But no, you consider yourself oh so much better than me all while swooning over her damn knight.”

I was having trouble focusing on him. From the lack of air or the blow to the head, I couldn’t be sure, but if something didn’t change soon, I’d be unconscious. I tried to buck my hips to dislodge him, but moving was getting hard. My body felt heavy, weakness eating my limbs.

“Why?” I could only mouth the question. I wasn’t even sure if I was questioning Ryese’s betrayal of his aunt or his hatred of me. It was getting harder to fight, harder to even think.

It didn’t matter. He was on a raging tirade with no intention of stopping anytime soon. “Now though, now you’ve gone and done it. All the cleverly laid plans I’d designed have to be scrapped. So you’re going to help me.”

Like hell I was.

He studied my face and laughed. “Oh dear, are you having trouble breathing? Here, let me help you.” His fingers eased off enough that I managed a shallow breath. It wasn’t enough, but it helped. “Don’t worry, dearest Lexi. I don’t plan to kill you . . . yet. You still have uses. The queen’s grip on the court has destabilized nicely—though I admit I didn’t anticipate her descent to make living here quite so miserable.” He shook his head, making the gathered sleet fly, several pieces pelted my already frozen cheeks. “Her court has lost faith in her and the other regents are questioning her capability to rule. No one will question me when I usurp her throne—everyone agrees someone must do it.”

Ryese switched his grip so only one hand held my throat. I managed a trickle of air, but the world was fuzzy now, my arms not responding. With his free hand, he dug in his coat. I tried to focus, but darkness clung all around me. My blink seemed too long, and I was sure I’d lost seconds.

“Her knight is a problem, though. I had hoped the challengers would soften him up more than they have. As you’ve probably noticed, I’m no fighter. In a fair duel I have no chance of winning against him. But he has a weakness.” Ryese pulled three vials of glittery red liquid from his pocket. “You are his weakness.”

Ryese uncorked the first vial with his teeth. I had a sinking suspicion I knew what he planned.

No. Oh no.

I pressed my lips together hard. No. No. No.

I was hurt, and I hadn’t had enough air in some time now. Ryese pulled the corks on all three vials. He smiled at me, all malicious delight. Then he released my throat and pinched my nose with one hand before lifting his weight off my chest.

I needed air. Needed to breathe. It had been too long. My body betrayed me, my mouth splitting. Ryese didn’t hesitate, but upended all three vials into my mouth.

I tried to spit. Fought the liquid dribbling into my throat.

I lost.

The Glitter was between me and much needed oxygen. My body swallowed compulsively before sucking in a jagged breath.

No.

Ryese’s smile spread further, the poisonous look of a happy snake. Then he rose in one fluid movement.

“I’ll leave you to it then, Lexi,” he said, striding toward the door. He paused before vanishing into the threshold and turned. “Enjoy your nightmares.”

Then he was gone.





Chapter 31





I lay on the floor gasping for several ragged breaths. Then I rolled onto my knees. My head spun, nausea sweeping over me. Actually, considering I’d just been force-fed an overdose, getting sick was probably a good idea.

I stoked the nauseated sensation, shoving my finger down my throat. The burn of bile crept up my esophagus, but as I doubled over, only dry heaves shook my body.