I sighed. With the queen so distracted and Falin injured and carrying a body, I’d hoped they’d both enter the Bloom first, and for a moment I’d entertained the idea of turning around and going home. But Falin had been commanded to ensure I made it to Faerie, and apparently he hadn’t forgotten that fact.
In the past few months I’d become something of a regular at the Bloom. In that time, I’d grown accustomed to the kind of crowd that frequented the bar—I could even recognize many regulars on sight. Typically, the patrons were primarily local independents who wanted to feel the homelike resonance of Faerie without actually going to Faerie proper and have to deal with court politics. Occasionally fae from other territories and courts visited since the bar served as neutral ground, but the regulars were locals. The winter court fae who passed through the bar were typically doing just that: passing through from mortal realm to winter court or vice versa. Few ever stopped to dine or gamble or dance or whatever other activities took place in the darkened corners of the bar. Except, apparently, today.
I stopped just inside the door, staring around a room that had gone eerily silent and trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Fae filled every available seat, but not one held a familiar face. Considering most of the faces belonged to Sleagh Maith—the nobility of Faerie—that wasn’t surprising. There weren’t any noble independents in Nekros. Well, hopefully I’ll be the first.
The queen had also stopped, taking in the room. Her grip around her sword tightened, and she glared at what had to be a large contingent of her subjects. For their part, almost every head turned downward, avoiding her gaze, as if they’d all suddenly become extremely fascinated by the food in front of them.
I guess they decided the winter court had become inhospitable.
Not that I thought they were all turning tail and planning to suddenly declare independent. At least, I didn’t think that was the case. No, more likely they were looking for a dry place to get out of the sleet that was plaguing their home. Still, it had to be a blow to the queen to see her subjects gathered in a small pocket of Faerie that normally was only a pale reflection of the true place. Most likely whatever pocket spaces surrounded the other doors to winter’s territory were also packed with court members tonight.
For a moment I thought the queen was going to address her people. To offer reassurance that everything would be back to normal soon, or more likely, to order everyone back to their court regardless of its current condition. Then Maeve approached the queen’s side.
“I would deal with this for you, if you would like, my queen.” Maeve curtsied as she spoke, her face turned down toward the floorboards.
“Do so,” the queen snapped, and then, squaring her shoulders, stalked through the tables toward the amaranthine tree and door to her court.
I didn’t start moving fast enough, and Falin gave me the softest shove to get me walking. I trudged forward, catching sidelong glances shot my way as I passed. But no one spoke. In fact, the silence held until I was more than partway around the tree, the world already sliding out of focus. Even then, the sounds of the quickly vanishing bar were subdued. Frightened.
The queen waited just beyond the melting ice pillar that marked the door. The intricate carvings were gone now, replaced by a shiny, wet surface. The queen grimaced at the pillar, and then turned her face upward, into the falling sleet.
The deluge slowed, and then stopped. I glanced up. Sleet still fell high above us—not the large and majestic snowflakes from before the queen’s . . . fall from health . . . but it stopped several feet above my head now, so at least we weren’t being pelted with the chilling rain anymore.
Two ice-cloaked guards approached, looking cold and drenched, but they bowed to their queen, making no complaint.
“My nephew, is he here?” the queen asked the first of the guards.
“I believe so, your majesty.”
“Good. Bring him to my throne room. We must speak.” She started past him, but then paused. “Oh, and take the planeweaver to a room where she can rest, and if there are any healers left who haven’t abandoned the court, send one to see to her arm. Knight, attend me.”
And with that, she stormed off down the long corridor, leaving me in the care of the two waterlogged guards.
Chapter 29
I woke to sleet pelting my face.
I jolted upright, disoriented with sleep, and blinked at the unfamiliar room. It was small, but ornately decorated with furniture carved from some sort of blue crystal that resembled ice—but only resembled, because the actual items of ice were dripping.