I didn’t even see Falin’s arm move. One moment the blade pressed against Rawhead’s throat, glinting in the strange light. Then the blade vanished.
For several long heartbeats, Tommy Rawhead looked stunned. Then his head toppled forward, and tumbled down to roll through the puddles on the throne floor. Falin released Rawhead’s body a moment later, and it crumpled to the floor in a lump.
I screamed. It wasn’t a conscious decision, the sound just burst out of me as an arc of blood gushed from the now-headless neck. I scrambled back, but the puddles of melted ice and sleet diluted the expanding blood pool, mixing and spreading it far beyond the body.
“Now we will get our answers. Planeweaver?” The queen turned to me, and bile bit at the back of my throat.
I doubled over, my stomach heaving, but nothing but dry hacking came up. Falin was suddenly at my side, his warm fingers brushing my sleet-encrusted curls away from my face.
“Don’t show her weakness,” he whispered, his hand moving to the back of my neck and then down, between my shoulder blades.
I stepped away. I didn’t want him to touch me. Not now. Maybe not ever. He’d just killed someone in cold blood. I’d seen him kill before—hell, I’d killed in the past—but it had always been self-defense. Yes, Rawhead was a bad guy in folklore. He ate children. We knew that. And we suspected he was involved with Glitter, which meant he was at least partially responsible for the deaths of the fae who it had been made from and the mortals who had used it. But we had no proof of his involvement yet. He’d been executed on suspicion alone. He’d already been captured. He’d been no threat to anyone anymore.
I stepped away from Falin, forcing myself to straighten. Wiping the back of my hand across my mouth, I avoided looking at the body. I didn’t like blood or gore at the best of times, and I’d seen bodies in much worse condition, but no one had ever been murdered simply so I could question their shade before.
“I can’t do this,” I whispered, more to myself than anyone in the room.
“What was that, planeweaver?” the queen asked, but the sharp tone of her voice said that she’d heard me.
I could almost feel the stiff stillness of Falin at my back, like a warning. Ryese smiled, but it wasn’t a pleasant expression. The look told me that if I refused the queen, he would enjoy dragging me to Rath, the queen’s torture room, just as much as he would have enjoyed hauling Tommy Rawhead there. Ryese was an equal opportunity pain dealer. Beside him, Maeve looked away, but Lyell gave a minute shake of his head, a small warning that refusing was a bad plan.
I swallowed and forced my shoulders back. Lifting my head, I met the queen’s crazed gaze. “I said, I can’t do this. Here.” I waved a hand to indicate the throne room. “No land of the dead, remember?”
She raised an eyebrow full of sleet, but she didn’t call me on the cover. “Knight, transport that.” She gestured to the body. “Ryese, assist him.”
“Dearest aunt, perhaps I should stay here and organize the restoration of your throne room?” He gestured to the blood, which had been carried in the puddles to spread across most of the room.
I was going to have to burn my boots.
“Fine.” She waved a dismissive hand, and then turned to me again. “After you, planeweaver. I want my answers.”
? ? ?
I stared at the body in the center of my circle. I’d considered trying to duck the queen as soon as we’d returned to mortal reality. But, unless I planned to run off and join the shadow court, the only way for me to stop myself and my friends from fading was to find the answers the queen needed. Not questioning the shade due to moral outrage was suicidal. Rawhead was already dead. The damage was done. If he revealed the alchemist, at least some good would come out of this mess. Besides, while Rawhead was almost certainly involved with Glitter, he wasn’t the mastermind of the operation. We had to stop the production of the drug.
So here I stood. But there was one major issue. A huge complication that made me hesitate even after resigning myself to performing the ritual.
Rawhead’s soul was still inside his corpse.
Just like with Icelynne, because there were no collectors in Faerie, Rawhead’s soul hadn’t passed on. I was fairly certain that if his body was left in the mortal realm long enough, a collector would eventually stumble over him and take care of the oversight, but we didn’t exactly have time to wait for that to happen. I could eject the soul as I’d done with Icelynne. But while she’d emerged scared and confused, she hadn’t had any reason to blame me for her demise.
Tommy Rawhead did. I had no doubt he’d hold a grudge.
And I’d be trapped in a circle with him.