Grave Visions (Alex Craft, #4)

Days? Oh, no. How many days had I already lost of my year and a day of independent status? “How long was I recovering from the drug?”


As if reading my thoughts, Falin shook his head. “Don’t worry. Your time is calculated in the mortal realm, as that is where you’ll reside. You signed in at the Bloom, right?”

That seemed like so very long ago. But I had. As long as the doors weren’t completely evil, I’d lost no more than an evening. Smiling, I pulled on my boots and checked the placement of my dagger in its holster. As I did, a glimmer of silver on my inner wrist caught my attention.

I lifted my hand to eye level. An intricate, silver snowflake twinkled from under my skin just below where my hand and arm met.

“Uh . . . ?”

“Your tie to Faerie,” Falin said, noticing my dismay. “It marks you as an independent of the winter court. And before you ask, no, it can’t be covered with glamour.”

I scowled at the very noticeable snowflake. “Caleb’s an independent. I’ve never seen a mark like this on his wrist.”

Falin winced. “Yeah, well, usually the queen places the marks in more discreet locations, and typically they are smaller.”

I stared at him. The Winter Queen had visibly claimed me. The snowflake may as well be an ownership tag.

At my look, Falin lifted his hands. “Hey, I did stop her from putting it in the middle of your forehead.”

Okay, yeah, that would have been worse. I’d have to find a way to cover it. I’d never been big on any jewelry except the charm bracelet carrying my shields, but maybe I’d have to find a nice cuff bracelet to avoid having to explain why I had a magical snowflake tattoo.

I sighed and stood, stretching. My stomach gave out a low growl, informing me it had been neglected for far too long.

“So your earlier response wasn’t actually an answer. What kind of guard are you?” My stomach rumbled again. “And is there somewhere to get food?”

Falin laughed and threw an arm around my shoulders, leading me to the door. “We’ll get some food at the Bloom before I take you home.”

Sounds like a plan to me.

We had a companionable meal, which was laid out like a lavish feast. I didn’t know the last time I’d eaten—though I had vague memories of being spooned some sort of gruel while in my drug and iron-fevered sleep—so I dug in with relish. Now that the queen was sane—sane-ish?—and the winter court was hospitable again, the court fae were no longer hiding out in the pocket spaces that connected to winter’s territory. Which in turn meant the regulars were back in the bar. I didn’t talk to any of them, but it was good to see the familiar faces. And, I guess I was one of them now. Just another independent getting a sip of Faerie’s nectar before slipping back to the harsh mortal reality.

While we ate, Falin filled me in on what had happened after I’d lost consciousness. Only two things of importance had occurred: the queen granting me independent status, which I obviously already knew about, and the amaranthine sapling had disappeared. No one was sure if Faerie had moved it, or if someone had stolen the young tree. Falin and his FIB agents had been looking into it, but so far no leads. They also hadn’t been able to track down Jenny Greenteeth.

That worried me. Both because the bogeyman creeped me out, and because I had to wonder if there was more going on in this situation. Had she been guarding the tree? And if she had been, where was it supposed to lead? If Ryese had simply planned to take over the court from his aunt, he wouldn’t have needed another door to Faerie in territory that already belonged to winter.

Was he working with another court? Falin had mentioned that the Queen of Light was the Winter Queen’s sister—was she Ryese’s mother? Hers had been the only court not to provide challengers for the winter throne. Falin had indicated that had been a show of loyalty between the two rulers, but maybe the Light Queen hadn’t needed to as her son, her ace, was behind the issues and working on positioning himself onto the throne with none the wiser?

Falin looked more than a little troubled by the idea when I suggested it. Neither of us believed Ryese had been clever enough to create Glitter on his own. Had he received help from the light court? Was that why the user’s imagination influenced how the glamour manifested in reality? The imagination was the domain of the light fae.

It was a troubling thought, but one for another day. Today I wanted to go home, see my dog, and check on my friends. I’d sent a message to Rianna when I first entered the Bloom, but she hadn’t answered, which likely meant she wasn’t currently in Faerie. Maybe she’d gone to the mortal realm once my tie to Faerie solidified and she started feeling better? At least I hoped that was the case.

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