Grave War (An Alex Craft Novel)

by Kalayna Price

  “Where are we going?” I asked, my lips feeling a little too swollen to speak. If I hadn’t been fine before Brad revealed himself, I would have believed some latent effects from Ryese’s spell were kicking in, or maybe Tem slipped me poison. I doubted either was actually the case.

  “Winter,” Falin said, the word quick and soft. Not quite a whisper, but almost. Even still, I visibly saw Dugan’s shoulders hitch.

  “All of us?” I did whisper, not that it made any difference in these halls. The shadows caught my words and echoed them as soft murmurs along the corridor.

  “Yes,” Nandin said, and his voice wasn’t soft at all. His eyes, when he glanced back at me, were tired. Sad. “We are . . . abandoning the shadow court. Temporarily.”

  The very shadows around us seemed to tremble, and mournful weeping filled the air. I blinked in surprise, and then my gaze shot to Dugan. He was not looking at any of us.

  “It’s that bad?” My question was quiet, and I wasn’t even sure who I was asking.

  Dugan nodded, his gaze still fixed on the shadows in front of him. “Our court is taking the brunt, as it was already out of balance and as the chasm where the realm of dreams was severed is more or less an open wound in Faerie.”

  “We sent the courtiers away while we waited for you to reach the last remaining pocket of Faerie,” the king said. “Luckily, you were already on your way.”

  The shadows we’d entered parted to reveal a large hallway, though I hadn’t seen the doorway we’d passed through. Around us, Faerie trembled. Not a violent quake like I’d experienced just moments earlier, but like a shuddering breath between sobs. “She’s so sad,” I muttered. It wasn’t an observation I normally would have voiced, but the heavy numbness my post-shock brain seemed to be stumbling through provided very little filter. I was saying pretty much every thought that crossed my mind.

  Falin lifted an eyebrow as he glanced at me. “Who?”

  “Faerie.”

  The land’s sorrow permeated the air. It was in the sounds, in the very movements of Faerie. Was it just here, in shadow? The court realizing its king and fae were fleeing? Or was all of Faerie in mourning?

  Dugan made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a cough. “With the way the land keeps shaking, I’d say Faerie is more furious than sad.”

  He had a point. And there were definitely some harsh notes of fury in the air, but the overwhelming feeling I was picking up from all around me was sorrow. I’d always known Faerie had a type of will, but it was strange to think of it as having emotion. And yet it was all around me. Or maybe the land was reflecting something else, like when the winter court had become a chaotic, miserable place corresponding with the former queen’s madness.

  “So what’s our plan?” I asked as I trudged down the seemingly endless halls of darkness. At times we passed through shadows so thick I wasn’t sure there were actual walls around us, just darkness. Then we would pass out of that shadow, and while there was no discernible change in the light source, the shadows were thin enough that I could see the rough-cut stone walls.

  “We are still working out those details,” Dugan said. Then he aimed a speculative glance in my direction. “But I believe we need to hear what you have learned in the last few hours before we finalize our plans. After our conversation was interrupted earlier, you vanished and I could not track your shadow. That is exceedingly rare.”

  “And yet Ryese and his minions seem to excel at it,” I said, wrapping one arm across my waist. Falin still had my other hand, so I couldn’t pull that one in without tugging away from him. He noticed my closing body language and drew me closer, putting an arm around my shoulders as we walked.

  We reached another of the impossibly dark patches, and I couldn’t even see my own hands despite the fact that my skin should have given off enough of a glow to be visible. Then, without warning, the darkness broke and we emerged into sunlight.

  I squinted, as this was more light than I’d been in since Dugan pulled me into the shadow realm, but as I blinked, I realized it wasn’t actually blindingly bright, just not the gloom of shadow.

  We weren’t in the shadow court anymore.

  I glanced around, instantly recognizing the tree-lined clearing. Honestly, it would be hard to mistake it for anywhere else in Faerie. Four doors stood between the trees at equal distances in the circle, the trees around each door slowly shifting through the seasons. We had emerged from a deep shadow between two large tree trunks, but the trees around us were covered in bright pink flowers with fresh shoots of green leaves. Spring. Those gave way to larger, darker leaves as the trees grew closer to summer’s doorway, which looked like a hill of grass and wildflowers between an interwoven ash and oak tree. Once past summer’s door, the circle continued, the leaves changing into brilliant shades of red, orange, and yellow, and lush ripe fruit appearing on the trees surrounding fall’s large door. Fall, of course, gave way to winter, those brilliant leaves turning brown and brittle and then vanishing from the trees completely as first frost and then snow covered the boughs until the circle reached a point where an oak and ash intertwined to form the frame of a glistening door of solid carved ice. Then, of course, the trees circled back toward us, the ice melting and spring blossoms appearing once more. Between the doors, the gaps in the trees glittered with brilliant light or deep shadows, which were the paths to those respective courts, though as I glanced around the clearing, I noticed that there were hardly any shadows left. Aside from the one we’d emerged from near spring’s door, there were only two other dark trails. Everything else was golden light. Judging from the grave expressions of my companions as they also gazed around the clearing, I wasn’t the only one who noticed.

  “Let’s keep moving,” Falin said, leading us toward the winter door.

  As he approached the door, it swung open, greeting its king back to his court. Inside the icy halls, guards stood at attention. Under the former queen, the guards had kept their faces shrouded, all individuality erased, so I could never tell if the court boasted many ice-clad guards or just a few that I saw frequently. Falin had apparently opted to remove the guards’ shrouds, because while they still wore their elaborate ice armor, which I knew would chill anyone who got close to them, the guards at the door wore nothing to obscure their faces.

  They bowed as Falin entered, standing back to attention quickly at his nod. None gave any overt reaction to the king, prince, and planebender following us, which was much better than the last time I’d walked the winter halls in Dugan’s company—pretty much every guard had attacked him on sight. Now they watched the shadow nobles with suspicion, but the guards made no move against them.

  Falin led us to the court’s enormous library. I’d been here only once before, and hadn’t had time to really marvel at the sheer quantity of books on that trip. Unfortunately, we weren’t exactly on a leisurely visit this time either. I would have liked to walk among the floor-to-ceiling shelves lining the room and see what kinds of books a Faerie library would contain. Old grimoires with long-forgotten spells? Collections of folklore about themselves? Fiction written by fae bards? I had no idea, and this wasn’t the time to find out, though I made a mental note to return once life calmed down a little—life would do that eventually, right?

  Falin led us to a sitting area in the far area of the library. The furniture appeared to be carved of solid ice, the cushions on the chairs and couches fluffy white snow. Ice furniture was fairly common in the winter court, and I knew if I sat on it, the couch wouldn’t actually feel cold, but just looking at it made me shiver. The icy furniture was gathered in a relaxed configuration around a large hearth. The raging fire inside the solid-ice fireplace hurt my brain, but the fire was no more hot than the ice was cold, so I guess it was all aesthetics anyway. Regardless, I gravitated toward the hearth, as if I could imagine some heat radiating off it.

  Brad, who had been dragging behind, collapsed o
nto the closest couch and leaned his head against the frozen-looking back cushion. His eyes fluttered closed a moment later. Had he seriously fallen asleep that quickly? Simply resting? I couldn’t say for certain, but I found myself staring at him, his features relaxed and oh so familiar, as if he’d just walked out of the last picture I had of him from when we were kids. I also noted that he hadn’t bothered replacing his hood after I recognized him. Apparently his identity wasn’t a secret kept from all of Faerie—just from me.

  “We need to know what happened,” Dugan said, drawing my attention from Brad. Which was probably good, because I was moments from demanding answers from Nandin, which might not be the best political move nor the wisest use of our time, presently at least. I would get my answers, but they would have to wait. Dugan gave the icy furniture a dubious glance before crossing his arms over his chest and turning to face me. Still standing. “You said Ryese is now the Light King. How do you know? Did you talk to him? Where is he?”

  “Did he admit to having anything to do with the bombings of the amaranthine trees?” Falin asked, adding to the list of questions from Dugan.

  “And why destroy the trees?” Nandin frowned, brushing his finger and thumb along his chin, idly stroking his beard into a point. “If he has already gained the throne of a Faerie court—the most powerful in Faerie due to the imbalance, even before the most recent damage to the seasonal courts—what is his endgame? Does he plan to overthrow all the courts?”

  I lifted my hands in front of me, aiming for a placating expression. “Hold up. One question at a time,” I said. “Yes, I spoke to Ryese, but only through a mirror, so I’m not sure where he was. Faerie, presumably, though I guess he could have been anywhere. He was wearing the light crown . . . But I couldn’t use my magic at the time. It could have been glamour.” I bit my lip as I thought about the conversation. He’d never actually stated he was king. He’d implied a lot, including that he’d mentally damaged the former queen and she’d willingly given him her throne. Or at least, that had been what I’d taken from our conversation, but fae were tricky bastards when left with any wiggle room for lies to be taken as truth. “He didn’t actually admit to much. He mentioned the bombings only in passing, but didn’t take credit. He . . . he wanted to use my planeweaving ability for something. He had a spell set up that was draining my magic out of me and storing it for his use.” I squinted, as if that would let me look back at my conversation with Ryese more clearly. “Whatever he was planning, he was mad that Tem put me in the circle early. He wasn’t ready yet.”

  Falin moved closer to me as I spoke. I didn’t realize I was hugging my arms across my middle until Falin’s warm arms slid over mine, his fingers lightly interlocking with mine where I was gripping my own ribs tight. I took a breath and forced my body to relax, to lean back against Falin’s hard chest.

  “I want to hear about all of it,” he whispered, leaning down close so the words were just for me. “Later, when we are alone, I want to know about everything from the time you were taken until you escaped.”

  I nodded. We didn’t have time now. There were too many other important things to cover, but he was letting me know he cared, that he wanted to know. I could appreciate that, even if it didn’t change anything right now.

  “So he is only probably the King of Light . . .” Nandin said, pursing his lips.

  “Regardless, light is expanding.” Dugan took a step forward, toward his king, then seemed unsure. “You saw the clearing. There is no balance. Shadow . . .” He shook his head, apparently at a loss for words.

  “So what do we do?” I asked.

  “This is Shadow’s fight,” Nandin said, frowning at me. “Or are you volunteering Winter’s assistance?”

  “I don’t have the authority to do that,” I snapped, and Nandin slid his eyes meaningfully to where Falin’s arms were around my waist. I ignored the implication. “Besides, this doesn’t affect only one court—all have lost doors. And it’s bigger than even that. The folded spaces in the human realm appear to be affected.” I reached into my purse, digging for the map but not finding it. I frowned, opening the purse with both hands to search. It wasn’t there.

  Damn it. It had been in my lap when Dugan dragged me into Faerie. It must not have made it.

  I made a frustrated sound and shut the purse. “I had a map . . . The wilds are shrinking. I don’t know how far it will go if left unchecked. It might just be a side effect, or Ryese’s plans might involve destabilizing the mortal realm as much as Faerie. I don’t know. He . . . well, that is, I think he attacked the governor of Nekros.” My voice grew quieter as I spoke, until the last word was nearly a whisper.

  Falin stiffened behind me, and then turned me so he could see my face. I wasn’t sure the others realized the significance of that statement, but Falin knew the governor was my father.

  “How? What happened?”

  I shook my head. “He . . . was attacked. I don’t understand how. Magic, I think, though there was no trace of it.”

  “Caine?” Dugan asked, looking thoughtful.

  I nodded. “He told me to go to the shadow court. Do you know what happened?” I asked, looking between Dugan and Nandin.

  The Shadow King’s face was drawn in a hard frown and he stroked his dark beard, pinching it to a point on his chin between two fingers. “I do not, but rest assured, I will look into it. You believe Ryese is behind this attack as well?”

  “He’d been taunting me. With roses . . .” That sounded so ridiculous. I hurried on. “Point being, this affects everyone. Every court. Every fae. And even the humans. Ryese has all but declared war.”

  All three men winced at my last sentence. I lifted an eyebrow, but it was Dugan who volunteered the answer.

  “War in Faerie is forbidden. Few things have ever been truly forbidden by the High King, but that is one of them. It’s not like we can just gather an army and march into the light court.”

  “Isn’t harming amaranthine trees also forbidden?”

  Nandin nodded. “But we have no proof of guilt.”

  I made an exasperated sound. “Fine. Then what is our plan?”

  “The same solution Faerie offers for most problems.” Falin’s voice was low, and while I couldn’t see his face, I could hear the grim resignation in his voice.

  “A duel,” I said, because that was how all conflicts seemed to be tackled among the fae, but I was already shaking my head. “Ryese doesn’t fight his own duels.”

  “There will be at least one champion to get through,” Dugan said, his hand moving to the sword at his waist. “But your king has already slain light’s best fighter.” He nodded to Falin over my head, and Falin’s arms tightened around my waist.

  Yeah, but at what cost? I still needed to get a look at Falin’s injuries.

  “Why would he send his best fighter to duel for the winter throne?” I said, my frown growing.

  “A calculated risk to remove one of the more deadly fae in Faerie while also disrupting the court?” Nandin said. “Or perhaps out of a personal vendetta. From what I’ve heard, Ryese is not a big fan of the Winter King.”

  That was true. He’d told me he wanted me to suffer for my part in his disfigurement. I’d revealed him, but Falin had been the one who drove the iron dart into Ryese’s hand. He probably hated him even more than he hated me. He also knew that if Falin had been killed it would hurt me, so win-win for him, I’m sure.

  “The challenge was also nearly guaranteed to at least weaken the king,” Dugan said. His gaze moved to Falin. “No offense, but I very much doubt that you will be helpful in a duel in the near future.”

  Falin didn’t move, but it felt like his body turned to unyielding stone. I don’t even think he was breathing. After a few heartbeats, he lifted one shoulder, but the movement was stiff. “I wouldn’t want anyone’s life to depend on me tonight.”

  It was a lot to admit in
this company. Perhaps too much. I hadn’t thought about it before that moment, but Dugan and Nandin were displaced royals whose court was failing. They were, in theory, our allies, but with Falin injured, they could decide the opportunity to claim winter was too great to pass up.

  “If Ryese gambled the best-known fighter in light on the chance of taking out Falin before the bombings, then he has something even nastier up his sleeve,” I said, the words coming out in a rush as I tried to fill the silence, to redirect the conversation onto the topic of our common enemy.

  “Agreed,” Dugan said with a nod, and I almost sighed with relief. Nandin was still watching Falin with a speculative assessment, though, and that worried me.

  “We should secure some allies. Fighters from other courts willing to stand with us and brave the gauntlet of champions he might have guarding the path to his throne,” Nandin finally said after a few moments.

  “Could he have more than one knight who would fight for him?” And if that was the case, why was Falin fighting all his own duels?

  “Technically? No,” Dugan said, lifting one dark-clad shoulder in a small shrug. “But if a challenge is brought before a throne, any number of courtiers may volunteer to fight to defend their king.”

  “And Ryese seems to have a contingency of loyal sycophants who are likely to jump into danger to protect him,” I finished for him. Why was that? What could the smarmy little bastard possibly offer to inspire such loyalty? Tem had indicated he was following Ryese because he believed he would change Faerie . . . Was that the reasoning behind all of his followers?

  The ground below me trembled, and I braced myself, but as Faerie began to rumble and shake, the earthquake lacked the violence and intensity of the quakes I’d experienced in shadow. This one was noticeable, but while the books on the ceiling-high shelves shifted a bit, not a single one fell. I remained standing without any struggle, and Brad didn’t even wake up, though his chin did fall forward toward his chest, causing him to make a sound somewhere between a snore and a grunt. I realized as the low rumble quieted and the ground stilled once more that considerably more time had passed without a quake than when I’d been in shadow.