Chapter 28

Based on the bargain I’d struck with the queen, all I had to do was identify the alchemist. She was then bound by our agreement to grant me my year and a day as an independent fae.

But only if she accepted my findings.

She stalked through the parking garage, a sword that had to be half as long as she was tall, clutched in her hand. I wasn’t sure if it was a purely glamour sword, or an actual magical sword she’d summoned, but it was an intimidating sight. How does one politely broach the subject of completed bargains with a more than slightly mad queen carrying a sword? You know, without getting skewered.

To be fair though, whatever spell Falin had chanted, she was significantly less crazed than she had been. But it was still a very big sword.

“Your majesty,” I started, several steps behind her. Falin was farther back still—he’d had to stop to grab the body after she’d stormed off. Leaving decapitated corpses in parking garages was tacky. Maeve and Lyell had both trailed even farther behind. I got the feeling her council was also trying very hard not to end up on the pointy end of the queen’s sword. “About my independent status . . .”

“If we confirm your information, I will grant you your time,” she said without slowing her pace.

I didn’t think whining that I really needed it now would gain me anything, so I held my tongue. But I also didn’t want to go to Faerie. Whether the queen found confirmation of Ryese’s involvement in the plot against her or proved Rawhead was somehow mistaken—it could happen if his memories had been altered or if he’d only thought he was dealing with Ryese—more heads were likely to roll. And the Winter Queen seemed like the type to kill the messenger.

In this case, that would be me.

“You can send Falin to fetch me when you are ready,” I said, trying to sound helpful and not overly eager to get out of there.

It didn’t work.

The queen whirled around, the sword flashing in her hand. “Where do you think you’re going, planeweaver?” she asked, but didn’t give me time to respond before saying, “You’re weakening. And you’re injured. You will return to Faerie with me. A healer will see to your arm and monitor your condition until such time as our bargain is complete or you wish to forgo it and join my court.”

I didn’t mention that her court was a rather miserable place to be currently. My face might not win any beauty pageants, but I was fond of its location above my neck and wished to keep it there. I’m not sure what expression I wore, but the queen’s lips thinned and she glanced over my shoulder at Falin.

“Knight, ensure the planeweaver accompanies us back to court,” she said before turning and stalking onto the sidewalk.

I grumbled under my breath, but the queen’s command didn’t surprise me. In fact, the part I hated the most about the whole thing was the stab of betrayal I felt at Falin’s “Yes, my queen.” He didn’t have a choice. I knew he didn’t. I knew he was her creature. And yet there it was. He’d broken my, admittedly fragile, trust on the night of the Equinox. I’d thought he couldn’t hurt me anymore, emotionally at least, but his simple acceptance of a command that was blatantly against my best interest felt like he’d gathered the broken shards and ground them into my chest.

I stepped out of the fluorescents of the parking garage and into the near dusk on the street. Night approached earlier each day this time of the year, and the streetlights hadn’t quite caught up yet. Or maybe it wasn’t quite as dark out as it appeared to my bad eyes. I’d left my shields cracked, but only enough to make what had been vague outlines in the brightly lit garage into recognizable shapes. Out on the darkening streets, my natural vision failed me, leaving me with only the swirls of color from the Aetheric plane and decaying reflections from the land of the dead. It was enough to prevent me from running into anyone, but not enough to make out details.

I felt vulnerable, unable to truly see the pedestrians on the street, to recognize who might pose a threat—and I took a moment to feel sorry for myself that I’d reached a place in my life that I considered the fact any crowd might contain a threat—but nothing was wrong with my ears, and from the gasps and whispers I could hear, no one was paying attention to me. No, everything I heard pointed to all eyes being on the disheveled woman striding down the sidewalk with a giant sword. Which was probably for the best, as Falin was bringing up the rear with what looked a hell of a lot like a dead body in a tarp. Actually, that was exactly what he carried, so no big surprise. I hoped he had it glamoured because that was the kind of thing that would draw attention, and if we didn’t get off the street soon, the police.

Thankfully, we weren’t far from the Eternal Bloom.

I’d be able to see once we reached Faerie—for whatever reason, the magical damage my eyes had taken over the years vanished inside Faerie—but there was still more than a block to walk and then there was the Bloom itself. While the bar may hold a pocket of Faerie, I couldn’t see there much better than in the mortal realm.

Opening my shields made the world around me pop into focus, even if it was a slightly different version of the world than everyone else on the street saw. There were more planes of existence than I had names for, and while my psyche seemed to naturally focus on the ones I intentionally interacted with on a regular basis, I occasionally caught sight of others that changed the street into an alien world of glittering crystal, or made the buildings bleed color where they’d absorbed strong emotions. I kept the bubble shield that reined in my psyche in place and tried to ignore the less normal aspects—if I focused too much on any one plane, I was more likely to accidentally touch it, and possibly draw it into mortal reality.

We reached the steps of the Bloom without incident. One of the trolls worked the door tonight. I recognized his particular shade of blue skin and hulking size as a bouncer I’d run into several times before. He wasn’t the brightest.

“Check iron and sign ledger.”

“You’re blocking the door,” the queen snapped.

The bewildered troll looked around, as if unsure of which door she meant. The queen made a harsh sound, somewhere between a curse and a growl. She lifted the sword, pressing it to the trolls jugular. His large eyebrows knit together, but he shuffled only one step sideways.

“Sign ledger?” he asked again.

“I got it,” I said, slipping around his hulking form. The queen made an inarticulate sound, but she didn’t say anything else as I jotted my and Falin’s names in the ledger. I didn’t actually know the queen’s name, and she wasn’t likely concerned with arriving back in Nekros at this exact time, so I left her and her remaining council members off.

Mollified, the troll shuffled his enormous girth aside until he revealed the door to the VIP area. “Check iron.”

“No iron,” Falin assured him, and then gestured for me to follow the queen into the bar.

I sighed. With the queen so distracted and Falin injured and carrying a body, I’d hoped they’d both enter the Bloom first, and for a moment I’d entertained the idea of turning around and going home. But Falin had been commanded to ensure I made it to Faerie, and apparently he hadn’t forgotten that fact.

In the past few months I’d become something of a regular at the Bloom. In that time, I’d grown accustomed to the kind of crowd that frequented the bar—I could even recognize many regulars on sight. Typically, the patrons were primarily local independents who wanted to feel the homelike resonance of Faerie without actually going to Faerie proper and have to deal with court politics. Occasionally fae from other territories and courts visited since the bar served as neutral ground, but the regulars were locals. The winter court fae who passed through the bar were typically doing just that: passing through from mortal realm to winter court or vice versa. Few ever stopped to dine or gamble or dance or whatever other activities took place in the darkened corners of the bar. Except, apparently, today.

I stopped just inside the door, staring around a room that had gone eerily silent and trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Fae filled every available seat, but not one held a familiar face. Considering most of the faces belonged to Sleagh Maith—the nobility of Faerie—that wasn’t surprising. There weren’t any noble independents in Nekros. Well, hopefully I’ll be the first.

The queen had also stopped, taking in the room. Her grip around her sword tightened, and she glared at what had to be a large contingent of her subjects. For their part, almost every head turned downward, avoiding her gaze, as if they’d all suddenly become extremely fascinated by the food in front of them.

I guess they decided the winter court had become inhospitable.

Not that I thought they were all turning tail and planning to suddenly declare independent. At least, I didn’t think that was the case. No, more likely they were looking for a dry place to get out of the sleet that was plaguing their home. Still, it had to be a blow to the queen to see her subjects gathered in a small pocket of Faerie that normally was only a pale reflection of the true place. Most likely whatever pocket spaces surrounded the other doors to winter’s territory were also packed with court members tonight.

For a moment I thought the queen was going to address her people. To offer reassurance that everything would be back to normal soon, or more likely, to order everyone back to their court regardless of its current condition. Then Maeve approached the queen’s side.

“I would deal with this for you, if you would like, my queen.” Maeve curtsied as she spoke, her face turned down toward the floorboards.

“Do so,” the queen snapped, and then, squaring her shoulders, stalked through the tables toward the amaranthine tree and door to her court.

I didn’t start moving fast enough, and Falin gave me the softest shove to get me walking. I trudged forward, catching sidelong glances shot my way as I passed. But no one spoke. In fact, the silence held until I was more than partway around the tree, the world already sliding out of focus. Even then, the sounds of the quickly vanishing bar were subdued. Frightened.

The queen waited just beyond the melting ice pillar that marked the door. The intricate carvings were gone now, replaced by a shiny, wet surface. The queen grimaced at the pillar, and then turned her face upward, into the falling sleet.

The deluge slowed, and then stopped. I glanced up. Sleet still fell high above us—not the large and majestic snowflakes from before the queen’s . . . fall from health . . . but it stopped several feet above my head now, so at least we weren’t being pelted with the chilling rain anymore.

Two ice-cloaked guards approached, looking cold and drenched, but they bowed to their queen, making no complaint.

“My nephew, is he here?” the queen asked the first of the guards.

“I believe so, your majesty.”

“Good. Bring him to my throne room. We must speak.” She started past him, but then paused. “Oh, and take the planeweaver to a room where she can rest, and if there are any healers left who haven’t abandoned the court, send one to see to her arm. Knight, attend me.”

And with that, she stormed off down the long corridor, leaving me in the care of the two waterlogged guards.