A Sleagh Maith with hair so pale it was almost transparent lifted his glass in a silent toast as I walked past. I smiled but didn’t return the gesture. I didn’t know the rules here. Best to err on the side of caution. I kept scanning as I walked, my free hand idly rubbing the top of PC’s head. Then I saw a familiar face.
Caleb, glamour free so the skin left visible above his elaborate coat and cravat was pale green, smiled at me. It was a big, boisterous smile displaying lots of his flat, dark green teeth—and it was completely at odds with the dire warning in his eyes. But he made no move to speak to me as he turned back to his partner, a fae who looked like she’d been carved from living ice. As he stepped forward I noticed the cord of ice binding him to the dance floor.
noticed the cord of ice binding him to the dance floor.
I did a double take. The chain was thin, hardly substantial, and it vanished into the icy floor, stretching to accommodate his dancing steps before vanishing again, but I had no doubt it constrained him.
I scanned the crowd again and noticed that several of the fae were tethered with cords that dripped down their ankles and disappeared into the floor. Prisoners? Not al of them.
Not even most of them. But enough to be more than a smal number, and al were the wilder type of fae who tended toward declaring themselves independent of a court.
I frowned at the extravagant bal around me. Extravagant farce might be more like it. The magic snow fal ing around me lost its charm, the beautiful and horrendous dancers their appeal. I was gritting my teeth by the time we broke free of the crowd of dancers to approach a dais of carved ice.
The singer I’d been hearing stood at the base of the dais, his pointy elbows sticking out at awkward angles as fingers with their too many joints plucked notes from a large harp.
His oversized nose bobbed, his voice lifting in melodies that would pack any concert hal . As I approached, he fixed dark, reproachful eyes on me. Malik. An icy cord bound him in place, but he never missed a note.
Above him, in the center of the dais, a woman sat on a large, glimmering throne of ice. Her soul shimmered a bril iant silver under her already pale skin, making her radiant as she gazed down at me with a stare that threatened frostbite if met too long. Her features were sharp enough to wound, but her red lips were plump, offering a touch of soft femininity to her face. Icicles dripped like diamonds from her long gown and a glimmering layer of frost encased the perfect dark curls fal ing around her face.
Even if she hadn’t been on the throne, I doubted she could have been mistaken for anything but a queen. She was breathtaking, and I stared. I couldn’t help it. She was was breathtaking, and I stared. I couldn’t help it. She was the kind of beautiful you wanted to be near, hoping it would rub off. I wanted to make her smile just to see the expression soften her face. To make her laugh to know if her voice would be musical. I stumbled forward, barely aware of my own feet. From the bag stil slung across my chest, PC let out a loud, happy-sounding yip.
I blinked, snapped out of my daze by the sound. Oh, I stil felt the need to make the Winter Queen smile, felt it with every nerve in my being, but the need was no longer al -
encompassing. Enchantment? I didn’t know, but I would be more careful from now on. I looked away and realized for the first time that she wasn’t alone on the dais. Beside her, standing with one hand on her shoulder, was Falin.
Chapter 30
“Welcome to my court,planeweaver,”the queen said, leaning forward.
I barely noticed. I was stil reeling from the sight of Falin.
Of him standing beside her. Of him touching her. My mouth went dry, and even Malik’s soulful voice faded to a buzz in my ears. Something in my chest had frozen. Maybe it was my lungs, because I couldn’t seem to breathe.
He’s with her. And of course he was. Look at her. She was . . . And look at me in my tank top and hip-huggers with a giant pink chalk handprint on one thigh, my hair in a snarl of tangles after being whipped around by the wind tearing out of the land of the dead. I clenched my fists at my sides.
I’d known Falin was the queen’s lover. I’d known.
Falin wasn’t looking at me, but staring straight ahead, over the dancers. Heat burned in my cheeks.
Embarrassment, maybe. Anger, definitely. At him. At me.
I tore my gaze away. I had work to do: a reaper’s accomplice to unearth and a friend to rescue. Wel , actual y, more than one friend—I wasn’t leaving Caleb a slave in the winter court.
When I turned I found the queen’s sharp gaze on me, watching, assessing.
“You’re staring at my knight,” she said, reaching up to stroke his hand where it rested on her shoulder. “Are you wondering about the chain? He has been . . . unpredictable, of late. Let it not worry your mind.”