Grave War

by Price, Kalayna

  I gaped at him. Then my gaze slid to the slumped figure on the throne.

  Ryese let out a laugh that was as pleasant as broken glass grinding against my eardrums. “I see daddy dearest never spoke of me, little sister.”

  “Sister?” I shook my head, the refusal as much shock as disbelief. “But . . . No. I met your father. The winter councilman the former queen killed. Blayne.”

  Ryese’s expression darkened. “Blayne was my mother’s consort at the time of my birth. He raised me, but he wasn’t my blood. No, that part of my DNA was contributed by a man who never came to visit me after my birth. Of course, I was more fortunate than most of his offspring through the centuries—they were never allowed to reach maturity. My mother was a clever little vixen who knew how to use her beauty and charm to extract the most binding of oaths.”

  “You . . . you’re my brother? But . . . you tried to marry me when we first met.”

  “That isn’t unheard-of among the fae, but, in my defense, I didn’t realize you were the High King’s spawn until you shook off his spell concealing you.”

  “Yeah, and then you tried to kill me. More than once.” Hell, I was pretty sure he still planned to kill me.

  Ryese gave a dismissive shrug, the movement oddly lopsided. “Well, that is even more common among the fae. Sibling rivalry is strong here. Now, Lexi dearest, sit tight a bit. I have use for you, but not here. We’ll head to my ritual site as soon as I’m done.” He turned his attention to the figure inside the protective circle, and then took several shuffling steps forward, his limp more pronounced than before. “He can’t hold out much longer,” he said, his voice oddly conversational, as if we were old friends discussing nothing of importance. “You alone, my dear Lexi, will have the honor of watching me ascend to High King. It’s time to give in, old man. You’re only harming Faerie by resisting. I will fix your mess once I’m ruler.”

  “Bullshit,” I muttered.

  “Language, Lexi,” Ryese said, but he didn’t look away from the dying king pinned to his throne.

  I jerked at the vines pinning my arms, to no avail. The vines were still growing, my arms now encased to the elbow and held painfully tight over my head. The vines encircling my legs coiled all the way to my hips. I could move little more than my head at this point. How the hell was I going to get out of this?

  My gaze slid to Brad. He still hadn’t moved. I was on my own.

  I tried pushing the vines into the land of the dead, to force them to wither and decay. But the vines were alive; they’d have to be dead to wither. There was no ambient Aetheric energy here, in the heart of Faerie, even with the plane I’d unfurled. I tapped into the small amount of Aetheric energy stored in the ring I carried, drawing it into myself. There wasn’t much. I hadn’t had time to refill the ring after my escape from Ryese’s circle. Once again I wished I could use more offensive magic. A fireball would come in handy right now. That was out of the question—not only did I lack the skill to craft a fireball, but I didn’t have enough juice to try to jumble something makeshift.

  But maybe a small spell? Something simple? I twisted my neck so I could gaze at the vine holding one of my wrists. Then I concentrated on the spot a few inches above my hand, crafting a first-year-academy spell used to light a candle. Of course, a candlewick was meant to catch fire. That was its purpose. A wick more or less wanted to catch fire.

  A supple, living, magical vine?

  Not so much.

  After what felt like far too many of my crashing heartbeats, a blackened scorch mark formed on the golden surface of the vine. Acrid smoke wafted from the growing dark spot. I was close . . . Just a little more. I was almost out of Aetheric energy too. Come on. Just catch.

  Pain erupted along my scalp, my head violently jerked forward by a hand clasped tight in my hair. I winced, which was why I missed Ryese’s lifted hand until the back of his knuckles slammed into my cheekbone, knocking my face sideways and sending pain throbbing from my teeth to my eye. Considering he hadn’t released me, the force of the blow also tore out hair.

  “Stop,” he said, a finger pointed inches from my nose.

  I clenched my jaw, swallowing the pained sound threatening to leak from my throat. I also swallowed some blood where my own teeth had sliced into my cheek with Ryese’s blow. I’d been so engrossed in burning the vine, I hadn’t even heard Ryese move close. Stupid. So stupid. And now I didn’t have enough Aetheric energy left to try again, even if I did get a chance when he was distracted.

  Ryese glared at me, one eye clouded over, the other so pale, it nearly matched the blind side except for the black of his pupil. When I didn’t say anything, but also didn’t offer any other fight, he released my hair and took a shuffling step back. He tucked his hand under his cloak again, but not before I caught sight of it. His hand—actually his entire arm—the one that should have been his “good” arm, was red, the skin raw and crusted over.

  He saw my gaze and shot me a leering grin. “Killing a High King has some consequences.” He patted my cheek, and I cringed, I couldn’t help it. “Not to worry, dearest Lexi, I’m sure I will heal quickly enough once I’m High King. I mean, look how much just being king of one court has done.” He lifted his iron-damaged hand. The skin was still dark, but there was strength in the limb again—I’d certainly felt that. He ran his fingers over the elaborate glowing crown he wore, and his gaze moved toward the magic dome again, his eyes hungry, greedy. “Imagine how much more I’ll gain being king of all courts.”

  “And bound to that throne? Yeah, that sounds fun.”

  He rolled his good eye—the cloudy one not moving. “I have no intention of repeating our father’s mistakes. Now, shut up and don’t cause trouble. This is a big moment for me. I don’t want you tainting the memory.”

  He limped back to the edge of the circle. “Stop delaying the inevitable, old man. Your time has passed.”

  The High King, my—our—father, lifted his head. His eyes fixed on Ryese for a moment, and then moved to where I was slowly being encased in golden vines. “This . . . was not . . . my plan.” The last word was nearly lost as he coughed, the reflexive movement making his entire body shudder.

  When his coughing fit passed, the king wheezed in several breaths that sounded too thick, too wet. A fresh dribble of blood trailed down the corner of his mouth. He squeezed his eyes closed, and I knew Ryese was right. My father wasn’t going to make it much longer. The fact that he was still alive at all was a testament to how powerful he was, or perhaps how much Faerie wanted to preserve him, but even that time was running out.

  He opened his eyes again, his gaze finding me.

  Magic rushed over me. Into me. Filling me. Overfilling me. It dove under my skin and expanded until my body felt like it couldn’t contain one more drop. But the magic just kept coming.

  My father’s eyes fluttered closed, his head dropping, but his words reached me, even through the onslaught of magic. “All hail . . . the High Queen.”

  Chapter 32

  I quivered, my entire being quaking. It felt like I’d grabbed a magical live wire—which was not far from the truth as I’d just been forcefully plugged into the full magic of Faerie. It was too much. It poured into me until I felt like every cell in my body would break apart. And it just kept coming. I could feel the land. Feel an intelligence, a presence, press against my mind. It was huge, so big it threatened to crush everything that was me right out of my body. It filled me until I felt like I would shatter, and then it paused, as if it hovered over the last part of me it hadn’t yet claimed.

  “Do you accept?” The words were not exactly a voice in my head as much as they were a feeling. A rising awareness of thought that wasn’t mine.

  I shuddered where I hung from the vines holding me, but managed to pry my eyes open. The world around me seemed stuck, as if I’d been ripped out of time. My father’s mouth was still wrapped around the
word “queen.” Ryese appeared to be frozen in midmovement, his face caught between shock and outrage. Brad’s eyes were now open, his hand flat on the ground in front of his face as if he’d been about to push up from the floor when time had stopped.

  “What?” My question came out a pained gasp.

  “Do you accept?” Again, the question was more feeling than words.

  “Accept what?”

  “Me.”

  I blinked. The world around me was still frozen. “Are you Faerie?”

  A warmth filled me; it felt like pleasure, though it wasn’t mine. “Accept, and we would be Faerie.”

  I swallowed, the small movement hard with the pressure of magic still filling me. If we would be Faerie, I would be High Queen. That seemed like a really bad idea.

  Displeasure cut through me with the thought, but again, it was a feeling coming from outside of me, not mine. A discordant music rang out in the distance, accenting Faerie’s unhappiness as she reacted to my thoughts.

  “My king has held out as long as he can. I can do nothing more. We both agree you are better than the alternative, but you must accept.”

  The alternative being Ryese. If I refused, he would become High King. I couldn’t dare refuse. And yet if I accepted . . . I squeezed my eyes closed, already knowing I couldn’t say no, but not wanting to agree.

  “Will I be chained to that throne?”

  “You didn’t conquer me, so I will not conquer you.”

  Well, that was a relief.

  “But you would be mine, wholly.”

  The relief evaporated. I bit my bottom lip. In front of me, Ryese’s shoulders moved, twisting as if in slow motion as he whirled in my direction.

  “I cannot hold this. We are out of time. You must choose.”

  My father’s eyes fluttered, his head sagging forward. Ryese finished his turn, the movement speeding up, time crashing back into place as his good eye landed on me, rage making his pupil expand.

  “I accept.” The words barely escaped my lips before the torrent of magic crashed into me again.

  I’d already been filled with the magic, my skin too tight under the pressure of it. Yet now even more rushed into me. Through me. The last barrier in my mind that had held my sense of self ruptured as Faerie flooded me.

  I screamed and Faerie cried out with me.

  The ground shook, knocking Ryese to his knees. Brad, who’d gotten both arms under him, collapsed again, and my father hung from the sword pinning him to his throne.

  Still I screamed, the sound ripping from me as more magic rushed into my mind, my body, my very soul. I screamed until my voice broke.

  And still the magic poured into me. It felt like it lasted hours, but I returned to my senses to the sound of Ryese laughing as he climbed back to his feet, so it couldn’t have been that long. I blinked hard, sagging in the vines restraining me.

  Ryese shook his head, still laughing, the sound mirthless. “You stupid, prideful old man.” He stepped forward, closer to the golden throne.

  A throne no longer surrounded by a magical barrier.

  “Give away the crown before I take it by force. I get it.” He limped up to the throne. “You could have picked any fae inside Faerie. But you kept it in your bloodline, even though that meant handing it to a child who has no idea how to use the power and who will die oh so easily. And then I’ll have it anyway.”

  I gasped in air, unable to breathe around the magic flooding me. Was Ryese ranting at the High King’s corpse? He wrapped his hand around the hilt of the blade and pulled it from my father’s chest. My father arched backward, sucking down a pained-sounding breath. Ryese flashed his teeth in a malicious smile. He lifted the blade, pulling his arm back across his chest.

  No. If he swung out—he’d take my father’s head.

  “Ryese!”

  He hesitated at my scream, turning that lopsided smile on me. “Wait your turn, Lexi. I’ll be there soon. Sadly, I think we’ll have to waste your potential as a planeweaver. Your prompt death is now required.”

  He turned toward my father, his sword rearing back, ready to swing. For his part, my father sat slumped, but rooted, in his throne, staring up at Ryese with only partially focused eyes.

  “No!” Brad launched himself forward. His knife flashed and then sank into Ryese’s side.

  Ryese bellowed in anger and pain. Brad tried to backpedal, but he wasn’t quite fast enough. Ryese might not be a fighter, but he was still faster and stronger than a changeling stuck in the body of an adolescent. He lashed out, slamming the hilt of his sword into the side of Brad’s head.

  Brad crumpled and I screamed, thrashing against the vines binding me. Ryese ignored me, sneering as he pressed a hand against his bleeding side.

  “Annoying gnat,” he snarled, kicking Brad’s unconscious body.

  “Stop!” But I could do nothing to back up the command.

  Ryese turned toward me. He flashed teeth, but it was more grimace than smile. “Oh, Lexi. You are about to lose a lot of family, aren’t you? If only you could do something with all that power you’ve been undeservingly handed.” Then he lowered the point of his sword, pointing it at Brad’s unprotected throat.

  No. I couldn’t let this happen. I had the full potential of Faerie’s magic burning under my skin. But Ryese was right. I had no idea how to use it. Hell, I’d never even been able to manifest my own glamour.

  But I had to do something.

  I pushed on the edges of my extended realities. It was already the widest circle I’d ever made, but I had a lot more magic to push behind it now. I fed the magic rushing through me into my unfurled ball of realities, and the edges glided across the room, sweeping all the way to the far wall. Then I focused on Ryese and the sword in his hand. I wrapped the land of the dead around the sword as it thrust forward.

  The blade crashed into my brother’s throat with an explosion of red. But it wasn’t blood. It was rust, the blade shattering into oxidized flakes.

  Ryese stared as the hilt of the blade disintegrated in his hands. Then he whirled on me.

  “What did you do?” He shouted the question, wiping the remains of his blade from his fingers. Then he took a breath, as if calming himself. His voice was back to a normal volume when he spoke again. “Fine, Lexi. I can deal with you first, if that’s what you want.”

  “Don’t move,” I shouted, but the words were all bluff and, judging by the gleam in his eyes, not a convincing one.

  He lifted a hand, and the vines that had been slowly entombing me picked up speed, squeezing tighter as they grew. A new vine dropped from the ceiling, wrapping around my throat.

  No.

  I struggled, but the vines only tightened. I twisted, trying to focus on the vines, pushing the magic roiling inside me at them. They squeezed, blocking off my air. Black dots exploded in my vision. No. Damn it. I had all the power of Faerie, and I couldn’t even stop a few magical vines!

  Ryese laughed. “I can’t draw this out the way I desire, dearest Lexi, so as a consolation gift, I’ll impart to you this promise: Once I’m High King, I will wipe out the dark smudge that is the shadow court. Then I will decimate winter, making sure anyone you ever cared about is destroyed in the most painful way I can imagine.”

  No. Rage boiled in me, combating the fear, and I forced my spotty vision to find Ryese. I couldn’t use Faerie magic to stop him. I didn’t know how. But I had my own magic. The magic I’d always had. And I reached out with that.

  I reached for Ryese the way I would a corpse. He wasn’t dead. Had never died. My grave magic couldn’t reach him in the land of the dead. But I could touch more planes than just the land of the dead. I could reach the crystalline plane where soul collectors existed. Where souls existed.

  I reached into Ryese’s still-living body and wrapped my magic around his glimmering soul, still firmly attached
. I’d always avoided touching living souls. It felt wrong, my magic trying to recoil from the hot, living energy of his soul. I didn’t stop. If I died now and Ryese lived, he’d destroy Faerie and everyone I loved. I wouldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t.

  So I sank my magic into him, digging into his soul with claws made of myself. Then, as the darkness pressed harder on me, I pulled. Hard.

  Shock registered on Ryese’s face. He stumbled forward, as if he could keep his soul in his body simply by occupying the same space. I pulled again, and Ryese went ashen. Heat and warmth rushed into me, the life I was draining off him filling me. And it was wrong. It hurt. I could feel it in my own soul. Faerie cried out around me. I didn’t stop, but pulled again, harder.

  My vision went black, my last sight the horror on Ryese’s face. I kept pulling, dragging the living life out of him. The pain in my body was gone now. The panic buzzing away behind a haze of nothingness. But I kept pulling, not even sure why.

  Somewhere, far away, I heard a thud. Then I became aware that I was falling a moment before I slammed into the ground.

  I gasped in air. It hurt, like daggers being dragged down my throat. Everything hurt. But right at that moment, hurting was good.

  Hurting meant I was alive.

  I sucked in more air, each breath stronger. The darkness fled from my vision, and I pushed away from the ground.

  The vines were gone. Ryese lay crumpled on the ground, his body empty. Soulless.

  I’d not just killed him. I’d consumed him. Like a monster.

  I shivered.

  My hand moved to my shoulder, where my soul had mostly healed from a malicious spell. It was still the weakest point, and as I looked at it now, I saw through the planes that the old wound was open again, the fissures deeper and longer than they’d ever been. I didn’t know if it would heal—what I’d just done . . . it was the kind of act that destroyed a person.

  I did what I had to do.