Grave War (An Alex Craft Novel)

by Kalayna Price

  I stood there stunned. She stared back at me, eyes shiny like she was holding back tears but also sharp and decisive. I still saw that fragility there, but there was steel in her as well. My sister wasn’t half as broken as I’d suspected.

  I hesitated a moment before answering her questions. She deserved to know what had happened to our father; the problem was that I didn’t have the answers she was looking for.

  “I’m not sure. It must have been a magical attack.” Though I still hadn’t figured out how, as I hadn’t felt it and his wards hadn’t reacted, but what other explanation was there? “As to the who . . . I have a suspect.” Ryese was at the top of my list. I didn’t know how he’d accomplished it, but the spell in the roses with their sympathy card had carried the same magical signature as the circle he’d created and trapped me inside, and they’d shown up right after the attack. I didn’t know why he’d done it, if attacking my father had simply been to needle me or if there was some other plan in the works that involved stirring up the human world with an attack on the governor, but somehow this all came back to Ryese.

  Casey bit her lips together, evaluating. “And now you’re here and want to go upstairs. That room, it . . .” She paused, a shiver running over her. Then she took a deep breath before continuing. “Is there something up there that will help you solve what happened to Daddy? Bring him back?”

  I was rather doubtful of that last part, so all I said was “Before he vanished, he told me to come here.” Mostly true. He’d told me to use the space to evacuate the fae.

  Again her gaze moved upward. “It’s locked.”

  “I know.” I didn’t elaborate. Our father had taken me to that pocket of Faerie several times. I knew the wards he kept on the door and which glyphs would unlock it. I’d been back inside that room enough that it no longer haunted my nightmares—or maybe in the months since the Blood Moon I’d simply seen enough worse things that Coleman’s attack no longer ranked high enough to be what woke me at night.

  Casey looked like she was going to protest, to once again suggest I leave. I wasn’t sure what I’d do if she insisted. I needed to reach that pocket of Faerie. How I was going to get the rest of the fae to it once I negotiated a door . . . well, that was going to be its own minefield. First I had to convince Casey to let me go up there. After a moment she sighed.

  “Come on, then,” she said, turning toward the door.

  I blinked, not following her. “You’re going with me?”

  The color washed from her face and she shivered once more before shaking her head. “Never. But I’ll walk you as far as the stairs and I’ll let security know I’ve given you permission to head up to the second floor.”

  True to her word, she escorted me to the stairwell, but she stopped before setting foot on the bottom step. She grabbed on to the banister, as if she could draw strength from the wood, but she made no attempt to follow as I began climbing. I had to wonder if she’d been up to any of the upper levels since the night of the Blood Moon.

  “See yourself out when you’re done,” she said, and then she turned, her heels clicking on the marble flooring as she left me alone.

  Chapter 23

  I made a quick stop to one of the guest bathrooms to scrub the worst of the grime off my face and rinse what I could of the muck from my hair. Without a real wash—or hairbrush—the result left me looking like a drowned rat, but at least less like a filthy one. My clothes, which had several crusted stains I didn’t really want to identify, were also pretty much a lost cause. Oh well, it wasn’t like I was headed to a beauty contest. I’d have preferred to put my best face forward while negotiating with shadow, but it had been one hell of a long day, and it wasn’t over yet. It had taken me longer than I liked already, what with trying to drive with my shields open and then having to get through security and Casey. I needed to make sure the pocket of Faerie had survived the last sunset—which I assumed it had, as Dugan had told me to come here—get the portal negotiated, figure out what to do about Ryese and the bigger issue with the door, and then get some sleep.

  I made quick work of the magical locks on the outer door to Casey’s old suite, thankful I’d paid attention when my father had brought me here in the past. The magical wards did more than just keep the curious from discovering the hidden pocket of Faerie, they also trapped inside anything that might somehow cross over from Faerie to the mortal realm. I assumed that was the reason Dugan had been sending his shadow pet instead of talking to me in person—the only remaining pocket of Faerie was securely locked down inside my father’s rather impressive wardings. I sort of expected Falin to be waiting for me as I rushed into the dark room, but found myself disappointed to discover it empty. I didn’t bother wasting any time in the sitting room, which was the first room past the doorway, but made my way straight for Casey’s old bedroom.

  The moment I stepped over the boundary where the circle had been cast under the Blood Moon, everything around me changed. The air turned sweeter, with soft music drifting just out of earshot, though this music was sadder than I typically heard in Faerie. An enormous sun hung low on the horizon, orange and pink with the shades of sunset even though it was full dark in the mortal realm. The fact that there was another floor above this one had no effect on the open sky above me. The room had outgrown its original dimensions in other ways as well. Once it had been a fairly normal, if large, bedroom. Now the space was considerably larger, more like the size of a ballroom. I frowned. It had been the size of a football field the last time I’d been in here, which meant it had already shrunk by more than half. Would it survive one more transition between day and night? I had to get the fae evacuated tonight, before dawn.

  I walked carefully through the space, because Faerie wasn’t the only plane manifesting in the room. The land of the dead had been forced into reality in spots and clusters. Other realities as well, though those seemed far less destructive than the land of the dead, which caused anything that passed through it to decay. The planes were scattered about like someone had been inspired by a Jackson Pollock painting, splashing a little land of the dead here and a bit of the plane of residual emotions there.

  That hadn’t been the case, of course. After all, I’d been the one who’d done all this damage. I’d been bound with a soul chain and hemorrhaging power at the time. The results had been chaotic, but hopefully today they would be useful.

  I’d still been holding out hope that Falin would be waiting for me in the chaotic pocket of Faerie—possibly Dugan was well. Not that I thought a prince and a king should be expected to wait around for me, but while I’d been more than a little distracted when Falin and Dugan had appeared in my windshield, by the expression on Falin’s face, which held some relief at the sight of me, though still riddled with worry, I’d thought that as a boyfriend—not king—he’d be here, ready to sweep me into his arms and find out what I’d been through the last several hours. It was possible I had some unreasonable relationship expectations, especially considering I was the one with commitment issues, but yeah, it stung a little as I walked through the empty space.

  “Hello?” I called out when I reached the stone bench in the center of the room.

  Nothing. I glanced around. Not even the shadows moved—not that moving shadows would normally be expected, but I was trying to reach Dugan so it would at least be an indication that he was listening, right?

  “Dugan?”

  Nothing. Had I taken too long to get here? If there had been something time sensitive, Dugan wouldn’t have cut off his spell before telling me, right? Or maybe I was still being rather presumptuous and shouldn’t expect them to be watching this space close enough to know the moment I stepped into it.

  “I’m here to negotiate a portal with the court of shadows,” I called out to the dark depths of the room. I glanced at my watch. It was still early evening, but how long would it take to work out passage for the fae and then actually get the
m all here to this room? While this pocket of Faerie had shrunk, it didn’t feel like it was on the cusp of breaking away from reality at the strike of sunrise. Of course, neither had any of the others and they were already gone.

  “You do realize he is a prince, not a valet,” a deep and not entirely unfamiliar voice said, making me jump as I spun around to scan the shadows.

  Nothing in the room moved.

  “Down, I believe,” the deep voice said. “Check your bag.”

  My bag? Well, the voice did seem to be emanating from my purse . . .

  I pulled open the bag, pawing through the contents until I spotted a small compact mirror I occasionally used for spellwork. I dug it out, flipping it open to find Nandin, King of Shadows, staring out at me from the round, palm-sized surface.

  “Ah, there you are,” he said with a smile.

  He was not who I’d expected to see. “Uh, hello,” I said, hoping my voice sounded friendly and not as uncertain as I felt. Belatedly I realized I probably should have added a “Your Majesty” and a curtsy or something as this was a Faerie king I was addressing. Saying it now would accentuate the original slipup, likely highlighting the slight, so I took a different tack. “How are you, Uncle?”

  The king’s smile broadened, amusement lightening his eyes as he tilted his head. “Reminding me of our familial bond to start negotiations, hmm? A well-played first step.”

  My smile felt more like a grimace, but I tried anyway. The King of Shadows claimed he was my mother’s many-times-removed great-granduncle or some such. We might be distantly related, but there was no emotional bond there. My interactions with him had been recent, brief, and not entirely positive, though they had arguably been better than those I’d had with most of Faerie’s royalty. In truth, though, I’d have much rather been dealing with Dugan. While the king had more authority and was probably the person I needed to speak to if I wanted to borrow the court’s planebender, I at least had a tenuous understanding with the prince.

  “As to how I am,” the king said, the smile he’d flashed me slipping, “I admit that things have been better. But then, that is why you are here, isn’t it?”

  Yeah . . . about that. I had no idea how to begin negotiations with the king, so I just stumbled straight into it, headfirst. “I would like to utilize your planebender,” I said, and then grimaced. Utilize? Really? It wasn’t like I was asking to borrow a pair of scissors. The planebender was a person. If someone said something like that about me, I’d be irate. Once again I wished I was having this conversation with Dugan instead of the king. Also, not having it through a tiny mirror would be nice. The king’s face took up the entirety of the small surface, and the angle seemed odd. I lifted the mirror, tilting it slightly, as if that would readjust it. To let me see around him and if Dugan and—more important to me—Falin were with him. Moving it of course did nothing to change the king’s position in the mirror.

  “Stop that. You are going to make me seasick,” the king snapped and I froze. Oops. The king’s gaze moved over my head, or more accurately, over whatever reflective surface he was speaking to me through. He stared at something out of my view for a moment, and then nodded, his expression earnest. Were Falin and Dugan with him? They’d been together when I saw them in the car window not a full hour ago, but I hadn’t seen the king then.

  “Now, a door,” the king said, his gaze snapping back to me. “Everyone wants to talk about a door.”

  I frowned. The very first thing he’d said had been about Dugan being a prince, not a valet. That hadn’t really registered at the time. Now I had to wonder who else had contacted him about a doorway. He does have the only planebender. All of the seasons had lost doors. Other courts were no doubt also looking for ways to evacuate their people.

  That probably meant this negotiation was going to be largely one-sided. I didn’t have much to offer and he had the only planebender in Faerie. Of course, his court did owe me a favor. I’d use that if I could. I just hoped it would be enough.

  The king stepped back, revealing more of the room he stood in. Not that there was a lot to the room—it was mostly gray stone and dark shadows—but there were people. Dugan, for one, but most importantly, Falin. I smiled despite myself as I caught sight of him, but no huge outburst this time, at least. Where Dugan and Nandin were shadowy figures with their dark hair, oiled armor, and cloaks of pure darkness, Falin was a glowing marble god, all sharp lines and brightness with his pale hair and white shirt.

  He returned my smile when our gazes met through the mirror, but there was something else in his features—caution maybe? But about what? Nandin? The door I wanted to negotiate?

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his gaze searching, but likely frustrated by the very little amount of me my tiny hand mirror revealed.

  “It’s been a hell of a day since you told me Tem wasn’t who he claimed to be.”

  “That was little more than an hour ago for us,” Dugan said.

  Well then, it was a good thing I hadn’t needed the cavalry to come rescue me. Though even with only an hour’s time, I was still surprised—and if I was honest with myself, a little hurt—that Falin hadn’t come after me. He’d more or less seen Tem abduct me, and yes, he’d looked a little frantic when Dugan had established the connection in my windshield, but he hadn’t come for me. That was really getting under my skin, and I hated to feel that way. And maybe there was another reason. With only an hour having passed, maybe he was still trying to negotiate a door. Another thought hit me, twisting my stomach. Or maybe he was still badly injured from the duel. He didn’t look it, standing tall and gorgeous in my mirror, but he had a habit of glamouring over his injuries . . .

  “I’ll update you on the events of the day, but first—” I cut off as the image in the mirror jerked. The shadows filling the edges of the image swirled as the three men seemed to bounce up and down in the mirror. Except they weren’t bouncing, not of their own volition at least. Nandin reached out to something outside of the view of the mirror and Dugan took a step, looking like he was bracing himself. Falin grimaced, his hand moving to his side as his weight shifted. It was a look of pain, and Falin was very good at concealing pain, so whatever injuries he’d hid behind his glamour must have been bad.

  “Ready?” the king’s voice called out, the words almost lost in the roar of noise pouring through my mirror as Faerie jolted and rolled.

  I thought he was talking to me, though I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be ready for, but then a voice answered from somewhere out of my view. “No. It keeps slipping!”

  Someone screamed, the cry frightened, thin, and very young sounding. The voice cut off almost as soon as it started, but the scream sent a cold sweat down my spine. It wasn’t any of the men I could see, but it was impossible to tell if the scream came from the same person who’d answered the king. Nandin lumbered forward, stumbling as much as walking out of my view.

  The image in the mirror kept jumping and swaying and I found myself bracing as well, even though the room around me was still. Silent. Falin took a knee, and my gaze remained locked on him, watching the world around him thrashing. My breath lodged in my throat, my lungs burning in protest, but I couldn’t breathe. I could only watch Faerie jolt and shudder.

  When the image finally stilled, I was looking at the shadow court sideways. Falin, braced with one hand on his thigh and another on his side, was the closest to the mirror. He filled most of the image, so I could see the lines of pain where they tightened around his eyes. He pushed himself up in a swift motion, though it wasn’t as effortless as I was used to seeing. Definitely still injured from that duel. Of course, once he stood, I could only see him from the waist down. That was true of Dugan as well, though with his dark armor and cloak, he blended in with the shadows so much that I was only sure where he was when he moved.

  “What just happened? Is everyone okay?” I asked, and my voice came out in quick gasps
even though nothing had happened on my side of the mirror.

  “Faerie is unstable,” the king said, still somewhere outside my field of view.

  A pair of boots stepped up to the mirror, filling the glass. Then the image shook again, moving in an arc as someone righted the fallen mirror on their end. The king’s face came into view, his expression grave, his mouth a thin line of worry.

  “So, an earthquake?” I asked. There had been far too many earthquakes recently.

  “More like Faerie fracturing,” he said, his gaze going beyond the mirror. I wasn’t sure if he was looking at something I couldn’t see or if he was simply thinking. “Things are happening. More doors have been lost.”

  “More? How many more? Which ones?”

  The king’s eyes snapped back to me, focusing. He didn’t answer, but gave me a searching look. Assessing if I’d trade for the information? Or trying to decide if I should know? Something else?

  “Two more,” Falin said from somewhere behind the king. I couldn’t see him with Nandin filling the mirror, but that didn’t stop the sound of his voice. “South America is cut off, as is Asia. From winter, at least. I don’t know about the other courts.”

  Nandin’s face pinched, as if upset Falin had shared what he considered too much. I just blinked, my hand dropping into my purse, and I dug through it by feel, without breaking eye contact with Nandin. We stared at each other, and then Nandin took a step back so that I could see the rest of the room again. Falin was no longer clutching his side, which was a good sign, but I still wondered how badly he was hurt. Dugan was studying me, his thumb running along his jawline.

  “The other courts lost the same doors, except spring. Apparently the door in the middle of the Pacific Ocean was a little too tricky to blow, though I’ve heard whispers that there was an attempt,” Dugan said.