Grave Destiny

by Kalayna Price

  She cocked her head to the side, sending her black braids trembling around her like a pair of snakes. “That was a long time ago. I learned from my mistake. You won’t have that luxury.”

  She lifted her arm, sword preparing to strike.

  I didn’t try to block this time. Didn’t dodge or run. I just lifted my arm, hand extended, and I sent my grave magic spiraling into her. A small push, and the death-weakened tethers binding her soul to her body snapped. Her soul popped free.

  Her sword clattered to the ground. Her body followed a moment later. Her soul stood above it, looking confused.

  I grabbed her ghostly wrist. I wasn’t sure the spell Falin had given me still held—I could already feel it failing—or if it would affect a ghost, but I was willing to try.

  “Who conspired with you on the murders?”

  The ghost had looked confused when her body hit the ground, but since I could touch her, so could the spell. She couldn’t help but answer. Her translucent eyes snapped into focus, anger filling them as the spell dragged her words from her.

  “Lunabella and I killed the goblin. He was a prick who never helped when I desired to learn shadow weaving. Jurin helped when we killed the winter noble.”

  More gasps around the room at her confession. The queen pushed herself to standing. “The duel is complete,” she yelled.

  As if that could distract me from this line of questioning. The spell compelled Teaghan to answer, but even dead, her forced answers were careful. I’d have to word my question a different way.

  “Who ordered you to commit these murders?”

  Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. No words emerged. Damn it. She’s oath-bound. She couldn’t name her master, likely why she was still alive. Well, had been alive, while Jurin and Lunabella had been killed.

  Teaghan’s gaze cut toward the throne and one—or both—of the figures at it. Then she lunged at me, determined to tear me apart with her own ghostly hands.

  I pulled my magic back, rolling in realities with it. Like a tide pulling a sand castle from the shore, Teaghan’s ghost followed the retreating reality. She shrank down, compressing, and then vanished into my locket. The door of the locket swung closed, the clasp sealing.

  Silence fell over the throne room. I leaned down and sheathed my dagger in my boot. A slow clap started, and I looked at where Dugan stood, clapping. I searched his features for anger that I’d killed his former lover, sadness over her death. Neither appeared to be present. Falin stood beside him, relief clear on his face as he smiled at me. I returned the smile. Then I turned back to the throne.

  I could have gone around Teaghan’s body, but I chose to step over it for the statement it made. I kept my face neutral as I did so, my gaze locked on the queen and Ryese. The gold cloak trembled in such a way that I assumed Ryese was near to exploding in rage. Or perhaps he feared I’d rip his soul out next.

  For her part, the queen said nothing. She stared at me, her normal golden glow tinged with red.

  I didn’t smile as I approached. Or offer any banter. I marched up to Ryese and held out my hand, palm up.

  “The cure for basmoarte,” I said. “Now.”

  “It’s not—” he started, spluttering.

  “Give it to her, curse of my loins,” the queen commanded.

  Ryese grumbled and the cloak rustled as he dug in his pockets. Finally a gray hand emerged. He hesitated, his hand stalling only half raised to mine. I could guess why. Most of the damage I’d taken had been to my arms. My dark sweater hid most of the blood staining the fabric, but it offered nothing but a contrast where the fabric had been cut and my glowing skin made my own blood glitter like liquid rubies. Dark veins of fouled magic trailed up my arms, and my dark purple hands appeared damp with blood. He gave a disgusted sneer and then dropped five small vials onto my palm without ever touching my skin. Which was a shame. I couldn’t feel any trace of the spell anymore, but I would have liked to use the truth spell on the little weasel.

  Of course, doing so likely would have gotten me into another duel. One was enough for the day.

  “How is the cure administered?” I asked, looking over the small vials.

  “It’s a potion. You drink it.” His curt words made it sound like he questioned my intelligence, but I wasn’t leaving until I knew exactly how the cure worked.

  “How many and how often for a full cure?”

  He hissed, and the queen turned her glare on him. He’d promised me a cure. He would deliver it. He was magically bound to do so.

  “One vial. It has to be administered before the infection spreads too far. It can’t heal the fouled magic, but it will close the wounds that cause it.”

  I nodded. That was exactly what I needed to know.

  “You have your cure, now get out of my realm, planeweaver,” the queen commanded.

  With pleasure.

  Chapter 22

  Neither Falin, Dugan, nor I spoke until we had safely left the light court behind.

  Once we emerged in the clearing of doors and the odd golden light was far behind us, Falin stopped, then laughed. It was a deep, full-belly laugh, all bottled stress mixed with pure joy. When I turned to look at him, he pulled me to him, wrapping his arms tight around me.

  “You were amazing,” he whispered, pressing his mouth against my hair so that his words were only for me. “I was so scared I’d lose you and could do nothing to stop it.”

  He released me a moment later, the laughter now just a memory at the sides of his lips. “Alex, I do think you established yourself as a formidable dueling partner, and someone not to be entered into a challenge with lightly.”

  I shrugged off the praise. I didn’t deserve it. If Teaghan hadn’t been healed from death in the past, I’d be dead now.

  “I got lucky. I—” I started, but Dugan held up a hand.

  “Do not downplay your win nor share the secrets of how you did it,” he said. “You are far safer if all Faerie hears of it and thinks you can repeat such a feat at will.”

  Falin nodded his agreement.

  Right.

  I bit my bottom lip. “Your courtier . . .” I wasn’t going to apologize for being the one to survive the duel, but I needed to know if he was going to hold a grudge for her death.

  Dugan seemed to realize where my thoughts had traveled. He gave me a small smile. It was sad, but kind and probably one of the most genuine expressions I’d seen on him.

  “Betrayed me and my court. Affections between Teaghan and I soured long ago, but even if they had not, she murdered my friend, conspired against my betrothed, and attempted to implicate me and my court in crimes which could lead to war. You secured both confession and vengeance. My court is appeased.”

  I nodded, though I noticed he mentioned only his court, and not himself. Time to change the subject. I fished one of the vials out of my pocket.

  “The cure for your king,” I said, holding it up.

  Dugan bowed his head. “My court is in your debt.”

  He reached for it, but I didn’t hand it over. Not yet.

  “The court is already in my debt for purging the initial round of infection. The cure I will trade for something else.”

  Dugan’s face turned guarded, but he said nothing while he waited for me to lay out the bargain.

  “Don’t look so glum. What I want is simple. In exchange for the cure, I want out of our betrothal.”

  His shoulders fell. “That is not as simple as you may think. The agreement was between your father and my king.”

  I shrugged. “Then agree to refuse with me. That’s good enough for one small cure to save a king.”

  He looked away. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

  Seriously? Was this such a hard choice to make? I sighed.

  “We’ve been through a lot the last few days. You’re not a bad guy,
but at this point, I wouldn’t even classify you as a friend yet. A friendly ally is probably a more accurate description of our relationship. There’s no affection between us, so you aren’t following through with the betrothal because of me the person—just because of me the planeweaver. Trying to force me into a contract isn’t going to win the shadow court any goodwill. And breaking the betrothal doesn’t mean I won’t look into reconnecting the shadow court and the realm of dreams.” Though I wasn’t about to make promises on doing it—especially since severing it had killed two planeweavers. But if I figured out how to do it safely, I wasn’t opposed to fixing the balance of Faerie. Particularly if it curtailed the Queen of Light.

  Dugan bowed again. “I will refuse the betrothal.”

  “Then the cure is yours, with my blessing.”

  Dugan took the vial and held it between two fingers, examining it. He chuckled low, the sound soft and quiet. “Something so small that will cost me a Faerie throne two times.”

  Falin and I both gave him questioning looks and he shook his head. “Now, because the throne would pass to me if the king died. And later, because the condition on the king stepping down was the successful birth of our first child.” He nodded to me.

  Anger made my cheeks flush hot. He’d agreed to that deal? A child planned simply for political gain? My father and his damn planeweaver breeding program! When I saw him next I was going to . . . I didn’t even know what. Something, though.

  Dugan slid the small vial into a pouch on his belt. “I do believe I chose the high road in both cases. I hope time proves they were the wiser choices.” He smiled at me. It was a kind smile, real. “You may no longer be my betrothed, but I think that, one day, I should like to be elevated from friendly ally to friend. You seem like a good friend to have.”

  “Friends are not for personal gain, and friendship is not one-sided.”

  He bowed his head to me, ever so slightly. “A hard distinction for a very old Faerie prince. Friendship is a weakness strong rulers often regret. But for you, I think it might be worth the effort and risk. Fare ye well, Knight and planeweaver.”

  He gave me one last bow, and then he turned and walked into one of the shadowed paths, disappearing. I watched him go, then fished a second vial out of my pocket.

  “I suppose I should purge this first,” I said, pushing up the sleeves of my sweater to study my arms. The fouled magic had crept up over my elbows.

  Falin nodded. “You might reinfect yourself otherwise.”

  He helped me find a small sapling outside the main clearing that was not on any path. I stripped the poisoned magic quickly, apologizing to the dying plant once I was done.

  “Well, bottoms up,” I said, lifting the small vial in mock salute before tipping the contents into my mouth. The liquid inside was bitter, and my tongue curled as I gagged down the single swallow of liquid.

  “Any change?” Falin asked, reaching out and taking one of my hands in both of his.

  I waited. My mouth pooled with saliva, as if trying to wash away any remaining hint of the potion. Otherwise, there was maybe a small tingling feeling? I examined my fingers. They looked normal, but I’d just purged the fouled magic, so they would. After a few moments passed, I shrugged.

  “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” I pulled out two more vials and handed them to Falin, but I pocketed the final one in case I needed it later. “One for the quarantined healer,” I said before nodding to the second vial. “Are there any alchemists in the winter court who can synthesize this serum, in case we need more?”

  “Maybe. You were correct when you said Ryese was an expert alchemist. The queen has a few others in her court, but he was the best.”

  Great.

  “What are we going to do about him?” I asked as we walked across the clearing toward the door to winter.

  “Not much we can do while he is hiding in the light court.”

  “But he was behind the murders.”

  Falin shrugged. “Didn’t you notice? His hands were clean.”

  Weren’t they always? He’d also managed to keep the blood off his own hands when he’d been draining fae to create a drug that had killed several mortals and poisoned the Winter Queen. Teaghan, Lunabella, and Jurin had committed the actual murders, but he was behind them. I was certain. Teaghan’s glance at him was confirmation. Though it wouldn’t be considered damning proof to any ruler—especially if the Queen of Light was involved.

  Under Ryese’s direction, Teaghan had no doubt killed her two co-conspirators after the revelry. No proof of that one, but it fit. I had a sinking suspicion most of Dugan’s missing courtiers arrived in the light court only to find themselves as experiments when Ryese was searching for a way to harness, weaponize, and cure basmoarte. Unfortunately that would be impossible to prove without access to the light court. And that wasn’t going to happen.

  “The queen was complicit at best. She knew about the basmoarte, the cure, and that Ryese had a way to trigger it. She is a threat,” I said, and Falin jerked his hand back from where he was about to open the door to winter.

  “I know it, and you know it, but you must not say such things. Not here in Faerie, or back in the mortal realm. But particularly not once we are back in court. You have seen how the queen views her sister.”

  I nodded. Ryese and the Queen of Light were out of our reach. We’d found the direct killers in the case, and stopped this particular attempt to overturn the balance of Faerie. For now, that would have to be enough.

  Chapter 23

  A platoon of guards met us inside the door to the winter court.

  “The queen wants to speak with you, immediately,” the foremost guard said.

  Falin frowned at him, his eyes narrowing. “I’ll escort Alex to the door to Nekros, and then I will meet with the queen.”

  That hadn’t been the plan, and Falin suddenly trying to hurry me out of the court made me even more nervous than the way several ice-gauntleted hands wrapped around their sword hilts. Something was wrong. Of course, our meeting with the Queen of Light hadn’t exactly gone well. The Winter Queen was going to be pissed, and she hadn’t been what one would call stable in a while. Falin was trying to get me out of here and take the brunt of her anger himself.

  The guard in front shifted on his heel, the slight movement making him draw back from Falin a few centimeters, but he shook his head. “She has ordered us to bring you and the planeweaver. Now.”

  Well, damn. Looked like I was going to see the queen. An angry queen, no doubt. Another one.

  The guards took up position around us. Were they afraid I’d turn and run back through the doors and to a different court? Actually, that didn’t sound like a horrible idea. Shadow owed me several favors, and the planebender could deposit me back into my own bedroom. Not that I had that option unless I wanted to fight my way through the winter guards.

  I glanced at Falin. His face was blank, maybe even haughty. I recognized the expression; it was his emotional armor and it hid his thoughts perfectly. He didn’t meet my gaze at all, which meant he probably wasn’t about to turn on his own men and make a break for it. I might have just won my first duel, but I had no illusions that I could take on a dozen winter guards. I had no choice but to see the queen.

  Tension churned in the hall as we passed down the endless icy corridor. The guards said nothing, but their hands remained near their weapons. They didn’t like being at odds with their knight. For my part, I was tired, hungry, and just plan sick of Faerie. I hadn’t gotten any measurable amount of rest in days, I’d used way too much magic, I hadn’t tended the dagger wounds I’d gotten in the duel, and I really just wanted to go home. I was done.

  The guards deposited us at a large door without a word, and then fanned out, blocking any path except through the archway. Falin glanced at me, and for a moment the ice in his eyes thawed enough for me to see his concern. For me. Not
himself. I reached out and squeezed his hand.

  He looked like he wanted to say something, but there were too many eyes around us, watching. He didn’t need to say anything. While my mouth sometimes got ahead of me, I was determined to keep it in check and get this over with as fast as possible. I wouldn’t mention my suspicions of the queen’s beloved sister, and we could honestly report that those directly involved in the murders were dead. We stepped through the large archway.

  I recognized the space as soon as we stepped into the Winter Queen’s throne room. Unlike when we’d visited the court of light, this throne room was empty aside from the queen sitting alone on her huge throne. Her head snapped up as soon as we entered, her cold glare bearing down on us like an iceberg.

  “What have you done?” she asked, pushing out of her chair.

  “My queen?” Falin asked, falling to his customary kneeling bow.

  I curtsied this time. With the way she was glaring at me, I didn’t want to risk irritating her more with what she considered unladylike behavior.

  “I sent you to deliver a body to foster goodwill. Instead you accused my sister’s people of crimes, challenged my nephew to a duel that cost my sister one of her courtiers, and then made demands on her.”

  I cringed. It sounded a lot worse when said that way. Of course, the truth was a lot more complicated, but somehow I didn’t think it would help to interject that the Queen of Light was an egomaniac who was more than happy to step over her younger sister to gain more power.

  “We found who murdered your noble,” Falin said, still kneeling. “All three who committed the crime are dead.”

  All who committed it. Not all who were involved. A very fine line of truth to walk.

  “At what cost, Knight?” Her words were glacial, her gaze filled with a mad storm waiting to break free. “She is my one ally in all of Faerie. And you”—she lifted a hand tipped with sharpened nails and pointed it at me—“have soured her opinion of me.”

  She wasn’t her ally. The Queen of Light was no friend to winter, sister or not, but I wasn’t foolish enough to say as much.