Grave Dance (Alex Craft, #2)

I blinked, and only then did I realize that a finger-thick chain, the links formed of glimmering ice, bound Falin to his chain, the links formed of glimmering ice, bound Falin to his queen. What the hell is going on?

He didn’t act like a prisoner, but then again, he also didn’t act like he wanted to be there. Aside from the hand touching her shoulder, he didn’t acknowledge her any more than he acknowledged me. Of course, the chain binding him was thin, and it was only ice. If he wanted to break it, I was sure he could. Stop thinking about it, Alex.

“I have thrown this bal in your honor,” the queen said, drawing my attention back to her. “Do you like it?”

I opened my mouth and then snapped it closed again.

Play this smart, Alex. It didn’t matter if I wanted to pul out al of the queen’s perfect hair right this minute. I was talking to a regent in a place where I didn’t know the rules. I had to be

very, very careful. But I also couldn’t lie. That complicates things.

I looked around. “It’s enchanting.”

“It is, isn’t it?” She smiled. “While I firmly believe one never needs a reason for a bal , I also think one should celebrate a newly awakened Sleagh Maith joining a court.”

Uh, except I hadn’t. From what Rianna and my father had said, I was pretty sure that choosing a court was, wel , a choice. I pasted on a smile and rubbed PC’s ears.

“Congratulations. And who aligned with the winter court today?”

She frowned. “My dear, you awakened in my territory. Of course you wil join my court.”

But she said “wil join,” which meant my assumption was correct: the choice came down to me. “I intend to see a bit more of Faerie before I commit to anything,” I said, and then added, “I’ve heard the high court has golden hal s.”

“Make merry with us, planeweaver,” she said, and I wasn’t sure if she was ignoring my statement or just continuing with her apparent plan of awing me with the grandeur of her court. “Let me find you a partner.”

She pointed and a man who appeared to be around my own age stepped forward. Judging by the bright yel ow of own age stepped forward. Judging by the bright yel ow of his soul, I guessed he was a human changeling.

“Jarrid is a splendid dancer,” she said as he approached the dais.

I smiled at him, but said, “I am not interested in a dance.”

After al , from my experience, dances in Faerie were dangerous things. Okay, so the bal had none of the frantic, addictive energy of the Endless Dance, but stil , better safe than sorry.

The queen frowned and dismissed Jarrid with a flick of her hand. Then she pointed into the crowd again. “This is Alrick, one of the last remaining of his kin.”

The fae she motioned forward was shaped like a man, but instead of skin, fine scales that glittered like cut sapphires covered him. When he reached the dais, he bowed to me, holding out a hand tipped in golden nails.

“I’m not dressed to dance.”

It was an excuse, and a flimsy one, which the queen dismissed with the wave of her hand. Or at least, I thought she was dismissing the excuse. Then a draft ran across my shoulders.

I looked down. My tank top and hip-huggers had vanished, replaced by a pale off-the-shoulder gown shot through with silver embroidery and accented with delicate ice flowers. My red purse was also gone, PC now hanging in an iciclestudded silver sling. I could see through glamour, so I saw reality waver, both my street clothes and the gown solid. Then reality settled on the gown, and my own clothes simply ceased to exist. Oh, that is so not fair. And for the queen’s glamour to not only fool reality, but actual y change it, meant she was extremely powerful.

Her glamour had also vanished the gloves Rianna had given me, and a hushed gasp traveled through the bal room as my bloody palms were exposed for al to see. The queen’s thin eyebrows lifted, just a notch, and she waved her hand again. Pale gloves of the softest material I’d ever touched appeared on my hands. They matched the dress, touched appeared on my hands. They matched the dress, with threads of silver woven through them al the way to where they ended at the middle of my biceps. Hol y’s ruby amulet dangling from my silver charm bracelet stood out like a wound against al that snowy fabric.

“It is a beautiful”— unwanted—“dress. But I must pass on the dance.”

The queen pursed her lips. Then she scanned the crowd, as if uncertain. Final y she pointed at the Sleagh Maith who had toasted me when I first arrived. “This is Ryese, the son of my beloved sister.”

I looked at the crystal-haired fae. The queen had now offered me three partners, each of higher rank than the last.

There was often significance in actions made three times, and I had the feeling that if I declined again, I would not only be dismissing the offers of her court but insulting her bloodline. What do I do?

I glanced around the assembled fae, my gaze stumbling over more than a dozen with the icy cords binding them. “A magnificent partner, but I must pass.”

Ryese looked stunned, but the queen just looked irritated.

“Is there no one in my court who interests you?”

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