Grave Visions (Alex Craft, #4)

I swallowed, digesting the words. “You’re saying that I’ll die if I don’t join a court?” I reeled under the idea. I’d been told for months I’d eventually have to choose a court, but I’d been avoiding it. If I joined a court, I’d be bound to stay inside the areas it controlled. Nekros was currently inside the winter court, but the doors moved. No one knew when the doors to Faerie would shift, rearranging which court held which territory, but when they did, all fae within that territory would have to follow.

The courts had a scary amount of power over their subjects, even the independents within the court’s boundaries, but much more over those who’d sworn fealty to the court itself. I hadn’t interacted with all of the courts, but what I’d seen thus far was enough to let me know I didn’t want my life bound to one. Especially not the winter court. But if I joined a different court, I’d have to move. My friends, my business, my whole life was in Nekros—I didn’t want to leave. When Falin had first been ordered to move in with me, I’d sent a petition to be declared independent, but the queen had denied my request.

And so, I was court-less.

And that could kill me.

My thoughts flew to Rianna, whom I’d assumed was sick because she’d been weak, dizzy . . . I didn’t even know what else. “What if other people are bound to an unaligned fae? What happens to them if she fades?”

My father cocked an eyebrow, interest gleaming through his concern. “Like changelings and lesser fae? What have you gotten into, Alexis?” He rubbed his chin between two fingers and his thumb. “That would explain the acceleration of your decline.”

“Yes, but what happens to them?”

“Their tie to you would normally be what ties them back to Faerie. Without that, they will drain you until your self-preservation naturally cuts them off. Then they would fade fast, very fast. Especially if they spent large amounts of time outside of Faerie.”

Great. My indecision was killing my friends. I had to join a court, and soon.





Chapter 5





“I need to sit down,” I said, though this time the sick feeling surging through me had nothing to do with fading.

My father led me around the patches of decay hanging in the air where reality touched the land of the dead, and deposited me on a large stone bench in the center of the room. Once I sank onto it, I just sat there, staring at nothing.

I had to join a court. No more waffling. No more hoping if I ignored the issue long enough that it would go away. I had to make a decision. Now. Well, maybe not right this second, but soon. Very soon.

Fading. I hadn’t even known that was possible.

“What court are you in?” I asked, the words tumbling over my lips messily, like I was too numb to form them properly.

“That isn’t your concern.”

My head jerked up, but my gaze was too sluggish to snap to my father. Finally my eyes found him, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring at the far corner of the room.

I knew he was court fae, not independent. He’d told me that much, but not to which court he belonged. He wasn’t winter court, which meant he shouldn’t have been in Nekros. He was in deep hiding, but I had no idea how he defied one of the basic laws of Faerie. If I could figure out how he was doing it . . .

My father’s hand shot out and twisted, as if to snatch something out of the air. But he didn’t. At least, not with his physical hands.

Something moved in the shadows—the same shadows he’d been studying so intently. I hadn’t noticed it when I’d first entered, but the room was bigger than the last time I’d been here. It had been a large but still rather normal bedroom before that fateful night under the Blood Moon, but glancing around now, I realized that there was far too much space for the room’s original dimensions. This pocket of Faerie was growing. And there is something in the shadows.

A chill swept cold fingers across my nape, and I squinted. My eyes worked better in Faerie than in the mortal realm, and while this small pocket was a mess of planes that shouldn’t have touched, my sight was clear here. Still, the thing in the shadows was so out of context, at first I couldn’t make sense of what I saw. There were wires and wings and limbs . . . I blinked. No, the wires were actually vines, bound tight around a figure I finally identified as a harpy. My father lowered his clenched fist, and the vines drooped downward, lowering the suspended fae.

She thrashed, the talons at the crooks of her wings straining toward the vines, as did the beak that took the place of her nose and upper lip, and the large talons on her toes. Her efforts gained her nothing. She was well and truly caught, her wings and legs stretched to their limits by the constraining vines. More vines curled around her waist and throat.

Since the vines appeared to be growing directly out of the wall, I assumed they had been simple glamour initially, but my father must have been very, very good, because this little pocket of Faerie had accepted the vines as real and even with my shields cracked, they looked solid. The vines lowered the harpy until she hung in the air a mere yard ahead of my father. He studied her, shaking his head.

“Your master’s impatience is noted,” he told her after she finally stilled to hang limply in the restraints.

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