Grave Visions(23)
“Be very careful, Alexis. My spell no longer binds you to Faerie. You do not have much time before you fade from this life. The shadow court is a good choice for you, at least for now. Come to me when you are ready to accept it.”
“Right,” I said, and slammed the door. While I had no intention of marrying Dugan, I also wasn’t going to doom Rianna, Ms. B, or the little elusive garden gnome. If I couldn’t find a ruler to grant me independent status, I’d have to join a court. I didn’t think it would be shadow, but that might be a slightly preferable choice to winter.
With my thoughts ruminating on everything that had happened in the last two hours, I stuck my key in the lock, but it didn’t turn over. I frowned and pulled open the already unlocked door. Did Rianna come in after all?
I got my answer quickly enough.
Leaning on the reception desk was one familiar blond-haired fae. After everything that had happened, I double-checked to make sure his appearance didn’t change when I cracked my shields. Nope, no more glamour than he normally wore to tame down his Sleagh Maith traits. It really was Falin.
“I could have sworn I locked that door,” I said, jerking my head toward the aforementioned door.
He gave me a half shrug. “I got tired of waiting outside.”
Right. So he broke into Tongues for the Dead. Honestly though, with everything else going on, this fact didn’t seem important enough to bother with, so I let it drop.
“Do you need something?” Because aside from the unavoidable interaction of living in my room, he’d done his best over the last two weeks to avoid me.
Falin nodded, but didn’t answer immediately. Finally he pushed off the desk. “We have to go. You’ve been summoned by the queen.”
• • •
The first time the Winter Queen had summoned me to Faerie, the FIB had issued an arrest warrant and Falin had attempted to hide me. This time, he’d accept no argument: I’d been summoned to Faerie and as a fae living inside winter court boundaries, I was going. He did permit a small detour, which was good with me—anything to prolong the time before appearing at court—except the reason we stopped was so I could find something more appropriate to wear.
Falin frowned at the slacks I held, shaking his head. “In all likelihood, if you show up to court in pants, the queen will change them into a gown.”
Great. There was exactly one dress in my closet. My bridesmaid dress for Tamara’s wedding. And I had no intention of wearing that monstrosity before the event Sunday because if I ruined it, I didn’t have time to have another tailored.
But I didn’t doubt him about the queen. The first time I’d gone to Faerie I’d lost one of my favorite outfits when the queen glamoured it into a ridiculous ball gown and Faerie had accepted the transformation as true.
Speaking of that gown . . .
I hurried to my linen closet and pulled out the boxes on the bottom shelf. The gown had been shoved unceremoniously in a bag in the back, complete with layers of petticoats and small ice flowers that had never melted. It was rather worse for the wear from the storage, and I shook it, trying to release the wrinkles.
“I can wear this,” I said, holding up the dress.
Falin grimaced at its condition. I couldn’t blame him, now that I really looked at it, the dress was in worse shape than just wrinkles. It had survived a hard night the only time I’d worn it, including a trip to the realm of dreams where I’d been carried off by dozens of clawed, scaled, and otherwise monstrous nightmares.
Okay, yeah, the dress wasn’t at its best, but at least I wouldn’t lose another outfit. With that thought in mind, I excused myself to the bathroom and changed.
Falin looked less than convinced when I emerged. I couldn’t blame him. The gown was ratty and I felt rather like a child playing dress-up in the thing. To make matters worse, I didn’t own any dress shoes. I needed to buy a pair of heels before Tam’s wedding, but shopping for a pair hadn’t made it to the top of my to-do list yet. Thankfully the gown hit the ground, so my boots wouldn’t be immediately obvious under it.
Crossing the small room, I sat on the bed and strapped my dagger into place. The semicognizant blade crooned in my hand. It responded to my nervousness with a type of excitement that betrayed how badly it wanted to be drawn, used. A disturbing sensation, but it was a good dagger, fae-wrought with enchantments that let it cut through almost anything. Its ever-fight-ready eagerness had scared me off from carrying it for years, but now I never left the house without it—I’d needed it too many times over the last few months.
Of course, if I needed it today, it was going to be a bitch to draw. I’d wrestled the dagger from under this gown before, and there just wasn’t an elegant—or more important, fast—way to hike up the multiple layers of tulle to reach the holster. But it wasn’t like I could walk into the winter court with a blade strapped to my waist.