Grave War

by Price, Kalayna

  “We have reached a decision,” the queen said, gazing out at us.

  Well, I guess they actually had been talking.

  No one on my side of the mirror said anything, but simply waited for her to continue. I smothered a yawn, which was totally unavoidable, but the queen’s gaze narrowed and she frowned ever so slightly at me, as if the stifled yawn was commentary on her proclamation.

  “We will not be offering fighters,” the queen said, still frowning. “But we are willing to offer a truce.”

  Falin crossed his arms over his chest, his expression unimpressed. “What are your terms?”

  “If you challenge light and stop this madness, no fae tied to summer will challenge winter nor shadow for a year and a day. In this way, we will show our appreciation of your potential sacrifice and owe you nothing.”

  Nandin shook his head. “Not enough.”

  The queen’s scowl moved to him, but the Summer King laughed.

  “I did tell you so, my dear,” he said. “A truce of five years.”

  Falin answered this time. “A century.”

  I blinked, surprised by the demand. Apparently I wasn’t the only one.

  “You haven’t even been alive a century, boy,” the Summer King spluttered.

  “But I have.” Dugan stepped forward. “And for a court who can’t muster a single challenger to prevent the destruction of all of Faerie, a century of sending no challengers against our courts seems more than fair.”

  The way the muscles bunched above the Summer King’s jaw made me suspect he was grinding his teeth. His gaze moved, clearly not on anyone in my room, but to his wife. Her lips pursed into a small rosebud, but after a moment she cocked one arched eyebrow. The king’s chin jerked upward ever so slightly, like a reverse nod, and then both royals focused on my party again. They might not seem to like each other much, but after their centuries together, they had the silent communication thing down.

  “One-century truce, or a truce until all the amaranthine doors are restored. Whichever passes first,” the queen said.

  Nandin, Falin, and Dugan looked at each other, their expressions all equally unimpressed, but they were considering the offer.

  I shook my head. “It’s not enough.”

  All gazes moved to me. The Summer Queen’s eyes narrowed, her husband’s nostrils flaring in displeasure. I hadn’t actually meant to refuse the offer. Hell, I hadn’t really thought before I spoke, but now all eyes were on me.

  I cleared my throat. Trying to think before I spoke; but I was so damn tired. I wanted them to promise to help us and get this over with so we could move on.

  “We are taking all the risk. All you are willing to offer is not attacking us if we are weakened while rescuing all of Faerie? How would that ever be enough?”

  “We have no evidence that your accusations are even true. What if we risk our best and this is some double cross from Shadow to grab a healthier court?” the queen said with a sniff.

  It wasn’t, I knew it wasn’t. And yet I couldn’t offer her any assurances that shadow wouldn’t try to trade up. The shadow court was failing. It had been even before this recent crisis in Faerie. And hadn’t I had my own moment of worry that the same might happen to the winter court?

  “A hundred-year truce—for every court involved with stopping the megalomaniac destroying amaranthine trees . . .” Because hopefully we’d have more luck with the other seasonal courts and they all deserved that protection if they helped. I paused, trying to let my brain catch up to my mouth. If summer wasn’t going to help us directly, they could at least help our people. “And open your borders to refugees stuck in the mortal realm. It may take the evacuees longer than the twelve hours normally allotted with the right of open roads to reach safe territory.”

  Surprise and maybe confusion registered on the royals’ faces. They studied me, evaluating. Then they exchanged more of that silent communication with their gazes. I blinked, trying to keep my eyes open as the silence stretched. This was important. I wished I had some coffee. Hell, even a splash of cold water.

  I climbed to my feet, afraid I’d fall asleep if I kept sitting. The Summer King frowned at me. “How long do you want these . . . refugees . . . to be allowed to access our lands?”

  “Just long enough to pass through on their journey to reach their own court.”

  They considered me. Then their gazes slid to the men on my side of the mirror. Falin and Nandin simply stared back at them, but I caught Dugan studying me, looking thoughtful. I hadn’t actually discussed any of this with them. I probably should have, before I took over their negotiations. Especially since this condition didn’t actually benefit the shadow court. It wasn’t like they had any fae stranded in the mortal realm. Not that this would help the fae stranded in the Americas. They weren’t going to be reaching winter territory through land travel, but it might help those who’d been stranded in Asia.

  The Summer King leaned forward. “Would our fae be offered the same immunity in your lands?”

  Everyone looked to Falin. He offered a polite smile. “As long as our truce is in place and you take responsibility for their actions, of course.”

  The summer royals stared at each other. Then the queen, with her lips pressed tight in a thin line, gave the smallest nod to her husband. The king turned to face us again.

  “We are in agreement.”

  I sank into my seat with a sigh of relief. Of course, with the bargain struck, oaths had to be exchanged, which meant even more negotiations as exact wording had to be agreed upon.

  I blinked, and then jerked my head up, as my chin fell toward my chest. My eyes fluttered, and my blink must have been a whole lot longer than I’d thought, for the Summer King was just finishing up the recitation of an oath.

  “Then our business is complete,” the queen said as soon as the last word fell from her husband’s lips. “Fight well in the duels to come. We hope to hear good news from you soon.”

  “I’m sure,” was all Nandin said before lifting a hand and releasing his spell. The summer royals vanished from the mirror as shadows streamed over it. A moment later the icy room we were in appeared in the shiny surface once more.

  “Well, that could have gone better,” Falin said, a frown tugging at his lips.

  “It could have gone worse as well.” Dugan turned toward his king. “Do you think we have any better chances with the other two seasons?”

  Nandin seemed to consider the question for a moment. “We have to at least try.” He turned toward me, studying my undoubtedly sleepy expression. “Clever, finding a path for the stranded independents you seem so concerned about.”

  I shrugged, blinking a little too rapidly to try to rouse myself.

  He gave me the smallest bow of his head. “We will remember that condition in our next negotiations, but we should perhaps not flaunt our dear Alexis’s presence. Even if we can convince all the royals that Ryese is behind this, they might consider the chance of securing an amaranthine tree worth dealing with an enemy.”

  “Fine by me,” I said, or tried to. Most of the words came out garbled, as I spoke them through a yawn.

  Falin stepped up to the couch where I sat. “Come on, let’s get you to bed before you fall asleep.”

  He leaned forward, but I pressed back into the snowy cushion.

  “Don’t you dare pick me up.”

  The expression that flickered across his face was a mix of confusion and hurt. It only lasted a moment, before his features went cold and expressionless, but I caught it. Shit. That had been the opposite of my intention.

  “You’re hurt,” I said by way of explanation, hoping he’d understand.

  He grunted under his breath. “I heal quickly.” But the emptiness in his expression didn’t change. “Come on.”

  When he held out a hand, I accepted it, letting him help me to my feet, but
as he turned us toward the door, I hesitated. “Wait, you can’t leave Nandin and Dugan to negotiate with the other courts without you.”

  He shrugged, still walking me toward the door. “I doubt they need me.” When I stopped walking and frowned at him, he sighed. “I’m planning to send Maeve in to monitor winter’s interests. In truth, she is a shrewder negotiator than me anyway.”

  “You need to be here. You’re the king,” I said, digging in my heels when he tried to tug me forward. “Maeve can show me to a room.”

  He shook his head, the movement sharp and definite. “No. There is a bounty on your head. I’m not letting you out of my sight or trusting anyone else with your safety.”

  I wanted to argue, but we both suspected there were still traitors in his halls and I’d reached my threshold on betrayal for the day. It was a sweet gesture. He was trying to protect me. But he needed to be here for these negotiations with the other courts. Not only did he need to make sure that the interests of his court were addressed, but as a new king, he needed to be seen as one of the players working toward a solution.

  Of course, that was assuming we won and Ryese didn’t actually manage to destroy all of Faerie. I was making that assumption, though. I had to. I wasn’t willing to consider the alternative.

  “Just pull one of the couches out of sight of the mirror. I’ll take a nap until you’re done,” I said around another yawn.

  Falin frowned at me, but Dugan stepped up to the closest icy couch.

  “It is a sound plan,” the prince said, lifting one side of the couch. Then he glanced over his shoulder at Nandin.

  The look the king gave his prince said he was not amused by the idea of moving furniture, but after only a moment he joined Dugan. Together they shifted the couch against the wall, where whoever they contacted next wouldn’t be able to see it. Falin’s frown didn’t lessen, but he didn’t argue as he escorted me to the repositioned couch. I gave him a quick kiss before I gratefully sank onto the snowy cushions once more.

  “Let’s do this quickly,” Falin said, turning to the two shadow royals.

  My heavy eyelids closed before the guys even determined who they would contact next.

  Chapter 27

  I woke feeling comfortable and warm, my mind drifting contentedly just below full awareness, unwilling to deal with the waking world. A warm body was tucked along my back, strong arms holding me tight. I lay there in that comfortable way as my thoughts slowly surfaced.

  I had vague memories of Falin lifting me off the couch and carrying me to bed, helping me remove my boots, and suggesting I take off my sweater, which was covered in mud and troll blood. Now I was lying in an unbelievably soft bed in only my bra and pants. From the firm skin I could feel against my back, I knew Falin was also shirtless. I couldn’t help wondering if he was missing any other clothing . . .

  That level of alertness also brought back everything else—the bombing, the stranded fae, Ryese’s schemes, the earthquakes that had been wracking Faerie, and the upcoming duels. I didn’t know the outcome of the conversations with spring and fall. Had we found any allies? Ones that would actually help fight through to Ryese?

  I didn’t want to jump back into that mess yet. I wanted to close my eyes, snuggle tighter against Falin, and just enjoy this moment without worrying about the fate of all of Faerie. After all, how long had I wanted to be in Falin’s arms again? I wanted more than that too. Not the most responsible reaction perhaps, but couldn’t Faerie wait a few more minutes? Let me enjoy this just for right now?

  Falin’s thumb moved, rubbing a slow circle around my belly button, and flutters erupted in my stomach, my skin suddenly hyperaware of all the flesh touching mine.

  “Good morning.” His voice was husky, deep with sleep, and those flutters picked up in intensity.

  “Is it morning?” I whispered, not trusting my voice any louder than that as I twisted so that I could face him. His blue eyes were only half open, sleepy but intense as he stared down at me. I was also correct about him being shirtless; all those pale muscles were bare and begging for my palms to slide over them. Except I was wearing gloves. I always wore gloves now. My scarred hands drew attention in the mortal realm, and blood coated my palms in Faerie.

  “No one has come to bother us yet, so I’m assuming it is still morning.”

  I made a noncommittal sound as I frowned at my gloved hands, unsure what I wanted to do. The blood on my palms was more metaphoric than real. A stain that marked me, that wasn’t physical, but it looked real. The gloves were preventing me from truly touching Falin. And I really wanted to touch him. All of him.

  He must have noticed my conflicted expression, as well as where it was aimed. His fingers slid around my wrist, lifting my hand upward. He kissed the back of my gloved hand, then caught the finger of my glove between his teeth and pulled. I winced as the red of my palm appeared, but he freed my hand, and then pressed a tender kiss on my discolored skin.

  “There is no part of you that you have to hide from me. I love you. All of you,” he whispered.

  I swallowed, meeting his gaze. “If my gloves are coming off, yours need to as well.”

  He hesitated, and I saw the conflict there. The blood on his hands was much thicker, much older, but no less metaphoric. A stain only. And I wanted his hands on me as much as I wanted mine on him.

  “All of me. All of you,” I said, and the smallest smile caught at the edge of his mouth.

  He nodded, releasing my hand to remove his own gloves. I pulled off my second glove, and then gave in to my impulse to touch him, letting my palms trail down his chest and over his tight abs. He wore sleep pants, but the material was soft and thin, the heat of his body passing through it as my exploring hands roamed over his hip and down to his ass.

  His now bare hand slid up my spine, leaving a trail of tingly shivers in its wake. When his hand reached the base of my hairline, his fingers trailed forward, featherlight over my jaw, and then gently tilted my face up, so that I was no longer staring at his chest but up into his gaze. There was no sleepiness left in those blue depths. Now they blazed with a heat that threatened to consume me. And oh, I hoped he did.

  I wasn’t sure if I closed the distance or he did, but our lips met with passion and maybe a little desperation. My tongue darted into his mouth, tasting, exploring. His hand moved into my hair, pulling me even closer as his mouth devoured mine. When we broke apart, it was only long enough to gasp in air, to notice the way my lips already felt swollen, and then my mouth found his again, and that was what I needed because right then, feeling his lips on mine, the brush of his tongue, and his breath mingling with mine, was way more important than air.

  His fingers fisted in my hair. My own hands trailed over his shoulders, down his sides, over his ass. I wanted to touch everything. Feel everything. My knee bent, sliding up his thigh as I wiggled closer to him. One of his hands trailed down my bare back, and the pressure around my ribs changed as he deftly unclasped my bra. Then his hand slid under the now loose material.

  I moaned as his thumb grazed my nipple, sending a tightening awareness that spread in aching heat through my body. I pressed my hips closer to his, resenting the hell out of my pants, as well as the space still between us. Falin rolled, taking me with him so that I was suddenly straddling his hips as he sat us up in the center of his bed. I groaned at the feel of him pressing hard and ready through our pants.

  “Too many clothes.” My words came out a throaty gasp.

  His responding chuckle was deep and husky. “I can help with that.”

  He dropped a hand to my hips as I shrugged out of my bra. I expected him to go for the button at the front, but instead his hand just kept sliding downward and back, until he was cupping my ass.

  My bare ass.

  What the hell? I glanced down. I still had my underwear, but my pants were gone. Just gone. Considering I was straddling Falin with
my knees bent under me, that was so not physically possible.

  “Did you just glamour away my pants?”

  His hand moved to my right breast, lifting it lightly as he dipped his head forward. “Yes.”

  “You can’t just—” I broke off as his mouth closed over my nipple. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin, drawing a small sound from me before his tongue swirled around the peak he’d caused.

  He sucked hard, and I moaned, my hands moving into his hair, as if I needed to hold on or risk falling apart. Not that I was going anywhere; his other hand was still clutching my ass, pulling me tight against him. He was still wearing his sleep pants, but neither those nor my panties were thick material and I rocked my hips against his length.

  His attention moved to my other breast, and I bit my swollen bottom lip to stop the soft noises escaping me. Then I slid my hands to his shoulders, trying to push him back, push him down, because I wanted—needed—to get his pants off him. I, of course, wasn’t strong enough to shove him to the bed, but he let me anyway, his arm sliding around my back to drag me down with him, guiding my lips back to his as his back hit the mattress.

  His wince was small. I almost missed it in the chaotic kiss. But with my body plastered to his, I did catch the small jerk of his shoulders. The tiny inhalation of breath that wasn’t passion, but pain.

  I pulled back. I would have scrambled off him completely, except his hands moved to my hips, keeping me straddling him as I sat upright, him on his back on the bed.

  “Shit. You’re hurt. I forgot,” I mumbled, suddenly feeling awkward even though I could feel the evidence that, regardless of his injuries, he was not unhappy to be exactly where he was.

  “I’m healing,” he said, starting to sit back up, one hand still on my hip, but the other reaching upward, as if to draw me back in to another frantic kiss.