Grave Visions(102)

I struggled, kicking with my feet. Ryese sucked in a breath as my heel connected with something soft. Hit. He drew back with the pain enough for me to crawl out from under him.

I climbed to my feet and scuttled farther away before stopping to take in the room where we’d arrived. I’d been hoping to end up somewhere public, preferably wherever Falin was, but either the door we’d taken had a set destination, or Ryese had had other ideas when we crashed through the door.

The room was small and empty, aside from a pile of debris in the far corner. The only door was the one we’d crashed through, and Ryese was between it and me. Currently he was curled on the floor, cupping his privates and staring at me with hate in his wet eyes. I did not want to try to get past him without a weapon. Which meant I needed to find my dagger.

I scanned the floor, finally spotting it a few feet in front of the pile of debris. I darted for it but drew up short as I got closer to the corner. What I had taken for rubble or maybe broken furniture debris was a pile of bones, mostly picked clean but a few with scraps of flesh and hair still attached. Skulls stared at me with empty sockets, most human in appearance, but some had obviously belonged to the less humanoid fae.

Oh crap, where had Ryese taken me? Was this his killing ground?

No, he’d drained the fae in his laboratory. But their bones had been picked clean here.

I shivered and took another step toward the dagger. A soft crunch sounded behind me. A footstep.

Oh crap.

I half turned, torn between diving for the dagger and the need to see Ryese.

Something crashed into the side of the head, just behind the temple. The world shattered—or maybe that was whatever Ryese had smashed against my skull—and pain exploded behind my eyes.

I reeled, my head spinning. The ground rushed up to meet me, knocking my already shaky breath out of me.

Ryese followed me down, planting his knees in my chest. Cold slush soaked into my clothes as Ryese’s long fingers wrapped around my throat, denying me air. I thrashed, clawing at his shoulders as I kicked my legs. He’d situated himself higher this time, keeping all his bits and pieces out of range of my flailing legs.

“Do you enjoy the work of the fae you got murdered?” he asked, his hands tightening around my throat until black spots burst behind my eyes.

Work? He had to be talking about Tommy Rawhead, but what work? Distributing the Glitter? I didn’t have the breath to ask. My head pounded and my lungs burned, needing air I couldn’t draw with Ryese crushing my ribs, my windpipe.

“He was valuable to me.” Ryese squeezed harder. “He worked hard as long as I threw him my scraps. Changelings or lesser fae, it didn’t matter. Oh, he said they weren’t as good as children, but he still accepted with gusto. And bonus, no bodies for anyone to find. Just a pile of bones.”

I tried to swallow, but I couldn’t do that any more than draw air. That didn’t stop my stomach from rolling. Rawhead had eaten the fae Ryese drained. This was his . . . lair? Dumping ground?

“But you. You’re always in the way.” Another flex of his fingers. “You couldn’t have just cooperated, could you?” He leaned forward, close enough that spit hit my face as he yelled. “If you’d simply agreed to a union  , my dear aunt would have officially recognized me as prince of the winter court and the line of succession would have made this all so much easier. But no, you consider yourself oh so much better than me all while swooning over her damn knight.”

I was having trouble focusing on him. From the lack of air or the blow to the head, I couldn’t be sure, but if something didn’t change soon, I’d be unconscious. I tried to buck my hips to dislodge him, but moving was getting hard. My body felt heavy, weakness eating my limbs.

“Why?” I could only mouth the question. I wasn’t even sure if I was questioning Ryese’s betrayal of his aunt or his hatred of me. It was getting harder to fight, harder to even think.

It didn’t matter. He was on a raging tirade with no intention of stopping anytime soon. “Now though, now you’ve gone and done it. All the cleverly laid plans I’d designed have to be scrapped. So you’re going to help me.”

Like hell I was.

He studied my face and laughed. “Oh dear, are you having trouble breathing? Here, let me help you.” His fingers eased off enough that I managed a shallow breath. It wasn’t enough, but it helped. “Don’t worry, dearest Lexi. I don’t plan to kill you . . . yet. You still have uses. The queen’s grip on the court has destabilized nicely—though I admit I didn’t anticipate her descent to make living here quite so miserable.” He shook his head, making the gathered sleet fly, several pieces pelted my already frozen cheeks. “Her court has lost faith in her and the other regents are questioning her capability to rule. No one will question me when I usurp her throne—everyone agrees someone must do it.”