Chapter 7

The shade didn’t have much more information. Dugan and Falin both pelted me with questions to ask, but Stiofan hadn’t seen, heard, or in any other way sensed anything else about his attackers. Stiofan’s ghost hadn’t said anything after identifying Lunabella. He had simply curled in on himself at the edge of my circle and stared at some point of nothingness.

He still hadn’t moved by the time I wrapped up the ritual, put the shade back into his body, and released my circle. Ghostly blood dripped from the many wounds covering his spectral body, so I guessed he was still caught in the details of his own death. I wondered if he would make it out again or if this experience had broken him completely.

For my part, the ritual had cost me some sight and warmth, but while I’d kept my shields open for an extended period, the time I’d actually raised the shades wasn’t long, so I still had some of my vision. I wouldn’t want to drive a car right now, or have to run for my life, but I could cross the room without running into anything or anyone, so that was something.

I shrugged into my coat and sent a small spiral of magic into the enchantment Rianna had recently placed on the fabric. It immediately warmed, pouring gentle heat into me. The chill of the grave had sunk all the way to my bones, so it only helped a little, but it was better than nothing. Slightly warmer and with at least partial vision, I glanced at Falin.

“So we have the smell of honeysuckle in the shadow court, and possibly a fae named Lunabella in the winter court. Is she a winter fae?”

Falin shook his head. “I’ve never heard of her.”

“Lunabella Blossommist,” Dugan said, tapping one long finger against his lips, his gaze distant as if digging through very old memories. “Summer court is the court most enamored with having several names, so she was probably born to that court. I would guess that was where your Stiofan originated as well, but as he has since left, it is possible she has moved on as well.”

It was a place to start, at least.

“Summer, huh. Think she smells of honeysuckle?” I asked, pulling my coat tighter around me.

Falin lifted one shoulder in a slight shrug. “It seems more plausible than shadow or winter, certainly.”

“So then, how do we go about questioning a courtier from summer?”

“Now that,” Dugan said, giving me a small nod, “is a very good question.”

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•   •   •

“I’m guessing walking into the summer court and asking to question Lunabella would not go over well?” I said as I stared at the coffeemaker in my office, willing it to brew faster. I was tempted to swap the pot for my coffee mug, but Falin and Dugan were present so it wouldn’t exactly be polite. “What is the normal protocol when you suspect someone from another court of murder? And please don’t say ‘war.’ That would be too big an overreaction for even me to believe.”

One edge of Falin’s lips tilted up at my last sentence, but it was a rueful amusement. It didn’t give me a whole lot of hope. “No, war is not the typical first response,” he said.

“Fae are long-lived and generally avoid anything that could endanger that longevity.” Dugan lifted his hands, his long fingers sliding gracefully through the air as he spoke, accenting his words. “Wars involve casualties. While there are several ancient battlegrounds from wars nearly forgotten in Faerie, the courts haven’t been in a conflict that involved a true war for as long as anyone can remember. War, true war, has been forbidden by the high king. The costs are too great.”

“He’s not wrong,” Falin said. “Even I have seen the ancient battlefields littered with the bodies of the dead.”

Yeah, and that was definitely a downside to no land of the dead. Entire areas of Faerie where the blood and bodies were forever fresh on the soil. And all the souls stuck forever in those sightless, motionless, undecaying shells. I shivered before fixing my gaze on Dugan again. “And yet you state that your reason for being here is to prevent war?”

“The shadows of Faerie have been whispering of war for some time. It is coming. All of Faerie may well be caught in it. I want to make sure my court survives.”

“Are the whispers prophecy?” The stream of coffee slowed, and I snatched the pot before pouring a tall mug for myself and two paper cups for the guys. “Or are they overheard discussions?”

Dugan accepted his cup and shrugged. “A little of both. Most prophecies make their way to our halls. Secrets too.”

“If it’s forbidden, how could it happen? Doesn’t Faerie more or less enforce rules and taboos on its denizens?”

“Yes, but the high king hasn’t been seen or heard from since shortly after the Magical Awakening. Some say he is losing his hold on Faerie, and if that is the case, his laws will no longer bind us.” Dugan lifted his coffee and sniffed the contents of his paper cup. His expression didn’t change, but he didn’t drink any either. “Had shadow’s courtier ended up in any other season, I would not worry so strongly that these deaths might be the tipping point that starts a war, but winter has . . . not been herself recently. Her rule—and ability to rule—might be in question, so she out of all the courts seems the most likely to act unpredictably.”

Dugan said all of this casually, as if discussing the weather or some inconsequential matter, but I noticed that he never looked at Falin as he spoke. For his part, Falin’s icy glare cut at Dugan, but he didn’t correct him or jump to defend his court or queen. I supposed he couldn’t have, as he’d said much the same to me about the queen only a couple hours earlier.

“At the rate at which the whispers of war are buzzing in the shadows, the high king’s law will not hold back war much longer,” Dugan said, still looking only at me. “I do not believe it is a question of ‘if’ it is coming. Only when and where.”

“Well, that is ominous.” And bad. I wasn’t truly part of any court, and I didn’t know how war in Faerie would affect me as an independent, but war anywhere was never good. Innocents would die.

And Falin would most certainly be caught in the middle of any war involving winter. The very idea made things in my stomach twist uncomfortably.

I took a long sip of my coffee. It was almost too hot for comfort, but I barely noticed. “So then back to my first question: How do we question a member of the summer court? There has to be some precedent for this.”

Falin nodded. “We can ask the Summer King’s permission to question his subject. And if that isn’t granted, a duel is the best avenue available.”

I nearly choked on the coffee. “Six months ago, a duel wouldn’t have even entered a conversation as a likely possibility, let alone be described as a ‘best avenue’ for anything.”

“Then you had a charmed childhood,” Dugan said. There was no malice or sarcasm in the words. He meant them.

I’d never thought of my childhood as particularly good. My father claimed that sending me away, disowning me, and the spell he’d locked my true nature away with had all been done to protect me. I’d thought he’d been full of shit and just didn’t want the hassle, but maybe he really was shielding me from the darker sides of Faerie. I tucked that line of thought away for another time and focused on the problem at hand.

“So how would that work? We would duel her for the right to question her as a suspect?”

“No, one of us would have to challenge her for answers. Three, traditionally,” Falin said, and I frowned. “It wouldn’t be ideal, but there are few resources for crossing court lines without the monarch’s permission.”

“We could question her at the solstice celebration that starts tonight,” I suggested.

“If she attends,” Dugan said, setting his untouched coffee on the edge of my desk. “And that’s a big ‘if,’ as she might not if she has committed crimes against winter. If she attends and we question her, even if she confessed to the murder, there would be nothing we could do but wish her to be merry because of the truces enacted around the celebration.”

“And you can bet she would be impossible to reach after the celebration in that case,” Falin added. “Better to pin her down when we are in a position that the queen could demand recompense of the Summer King.”

I wasn’t sure exactly what “recompense” would be when it came to a murdered courtier, but clearly stalling until tonight wasn’t an option. “Wouldn’t she be dead if you dueled?”

Falin shook his head. “Very few duels are to the death. Most are only until third blood or until one party yields. A duel for secrets would probably only be until first blood.”

“So a duel to question a suspect.” I shook my head, scoffing, and then said under my breath, “You better have three damn good questions. Who knew you could duel for answers?”

Dugan frowned at me. “You can duel for anything. Love, land, position, or yes, secrets.”

I blinked at him. “So how do you stop the strongest from taking everything?”

He stared at me, his expression torn between surprise at the question and disbelief that I could be so naive.

Right. Nothing.

Nothing at all prevented the strongest from taking everything from the weak.

That realization must have been written across my face, because Falin inclined his head slightly before saying, “The weak attach themselves to the strong for protection. Even then, for most it is safest to own nothing made of anything more valuable than glamour. And if one does have something of value, to hide it away so that no one else decides it is worth fighting for.”

“That’s barbaric.”

“That is the way it has always been.” Dugan shrugged away the unfairness of it all. “But before we resign ourselves to dueling, we should ask the Summer King for permission to question Lunabella. Luck might favor us.”

Falin glanced at Dugan. “I don’t suppose you can contact the summer court?”

The Shadow Prince frowned and looked around. Not seeing what he sought, he turned to me. “Do you have a mirror?”

“In the bathroom.” I pointed vaguely in the direction of the small restroom attached to the Tongues for the Dead lobby. Dugan turned, heading in the direction I had pointed. I frowned after him. Despite his run-in with the Winter Queen and his brief exposure to the grave wind blowing off the land of the dead, he didn’t have so much as a single dark hair out of place. He certainly didn’t look like he needed to gussy up for his conversation with the Summer King. Then again, he was a prince calling on another monarch. Appearances likely did matter.

He paused when he reached the door to my office and glanced back. “Are you coming?”

“To the bathroom with you? No,” I said, finishing my coffee. I glanced at the cooling cup he’d abandoned on my desk. Dugan hadn’t actually drunk any. It would probably be fine for me to liberate it.

“Not the bathroom. To the mirror.” Dugan emphasized the last word.

Yeah . . . I got the feeling he wasn’t suggesting I fix my hair. Abandoning the coffee, I led everyone to the small bathroom. The tiny room was all but claustrophobic for one long-legged person, whose knees would inevitably hit the sink while sitting on the commode. It definitely wasn’t made for three.

Dugan shot the small space a dubious look from the doorway. “There’s no other mirror?”

“Maybe a hand mirror somewhere.” Rianna likely had one in her spell kit, but I didn’t want to dig through it without permission.

“That would be too small. This is barely large enough as it is.” He indicated the oval-shaped mirror. It was slightly larger than a dinner plate and some of the reflective material had flaked off the back, leaving dark spots. “We will make do.”

He stepped into the small bathroom, and then seemed unsure where to go to make room for the rest of us. Ultimately he stepped over the toilet, squeezing into the far corner beside the mirror. Falin gestured for me to go next, but there wasn’t really anywhere to go. Once Falin joined us, even though he pressed himself against the wall, I had to lean forward with one foot balanced on the toilet seat so that I could see the mirror around him. I could have sat on the back of the commode, but then I would have been brushing up against both men. If I was going to share personal bubbles with anyone, I’d prefer to keep it to just Falin.

Dugan pressed his hand to the mirror, and shadows crawled over the surface, swirling and slithering until nothing of the room was reflected in the darkness coating the glass. Once the mirror was nothing more than inky blackness, Dugan called out, “We seek an audience with the Summer King.”

Nothing happened.

I waited, watching the twisting shadows. Still nothing happened. I glanced at Falin, but he was staring at the mirror. I waited what felt like ten minutes, until my leg was cramping and I was considering sitting on the commode anyway.

“Is something supposed to happen?” I finally asked.

“It is happening,” Dugan said, not lifting his hand from the mirror or glancing away.

We waited a few more minutes and I fidgeted with my coat sleeve. The charm in it had already powered down. It wasn’t completely exhausted, but it would take some time to recharge before I could use it again. I didn’t need it right now anyway. I was very aware of the heat from Falin’s body pressed against my side.

“Are you sure this is working?” I asked, as I tried to figure out if I could switch which leg I had propped up without falling down. Not that I had room to fall.

“While it is almost incomprehensible in the mortal world of cell phones, instant communication isn’t exactly popular in Faerie.” Falin breathed the words into my hair. And I knew that was true enough. In the past when I’d needed to get a message to someone in Faerie, I’d scrawled a letter on a leaf. A mirror did seem slightly better. If it worked.

“Also, he is a king,” Dugan whispered. “Taking his time is his prerogative.”

“And wasting it is a foolish and dangerous endeavor,” a booming voice said from inside the inky darkness covering the mirror.

The glass cleared, but instead of reflecting the three of us crammed in the small bathroom, it filled with what I thought at first was just an image of the sky. Near the bottom of the mirror was a picturesque scene of fae in wildflowers surrounded by several trees lazily blowing in a gentle wind. A faun played a set of pipes near the very edge of the mirror’s view; a woman with green skin and brilliant purple flowers growing in her hair played a harp beside him. A group of women who had bark for skin danced to the music, dragging with them a young man with shaggy dark hair who looked suspiciously human. Near the bottom of the mirror was a man lounging among the flowers. He was shirtless, his skin a tanned gold and his chestnut brown curls glowing with gold and red highlights in the afternoon sunshine. A small crown of twisting green vines was almost lost among the curls. A delicate-looking fae lay with her head in his lap, her eyes closed and peaceful, her shimmering butterfly wings fluttering softly in her slumber. Another fae sat behind him, weaving small forget-me-not flowers into his curls.

“A prince, a knight, and . . .” The king leaned forward, peering hard at me through the glass of the mirror. “What might you be?”

“An investigator,” I said at the same time Dugan said, “The planeweaver.”

I tried to hide a cringe, but the king’s chestnut eyebrow rose. He waved off the fae decorating his hair and leaned even closer to the mirror, filling most of it so that we could only see slips of a cloudless sky around him.

“Now, that does make this call more interesting.” His gaze swept around the small room. “Where are you calling me from? That is surely neither the shadow nor winter court.”

“We are in a less-than-ideal spot in the mortal realm,” Dugan said.

“And your monarchs know you are contacting me?”

I didn’t shoot a nervous glance at Falin, but it was a near thing.

Dugan, however, didn’t miss a beat. “We are acting within the instructions we were given.”

And that was why getting an honest answer out of fae was damn difficult. Not being able to lie didn’t mean the truth you got out of them wouldn’t imply a lie. Dugan was instructed to stop a war by the Shadow King, and we were charged with finding Stiofan’s killer by the Winter Queen, so we were, in fact, following the tasks we’d been given. But neither monarch had sanctioned—or even knew we were—contacting the summer court. And I was pretty sure the Winter Queen wouldn’t approve.

“I see,” the Summer King said, measuring Dugan’s words.

The image in the mirror rippled. Then the image swirled, breaking apart into a mesh of colors with no distinction. I glanced at Falin, afraid we’d offended the king before we’d even gotten a chance to ask about Lunabella.

Falin held up a hand, silencing the questions on the tip of my tongue. He gestured toward the mirror. The shapes were becoming more distinct again, the most obvious of which was a very feminine, and very naked, ass and pair of legs. The woman’s skin was silvery and covered in scales. She took a step forward, and a water droplet fell from her ankle. The image in the mirror rippled.

“Are we talking to the king from inside a pool?” I asked.

“A pond, more likely,” Falin answered in a low whisper.

Dugan shrugged. “Anything reflective works for this spell.”

The scaled woman, who must have been a water fae of some sort, set a bowl down in front of the Summer King. He smiled at her and nodded slightly, acknowledging her action. It surprised me. He seemed warm, even kind, interacting with his fae. It was no huge gesture, but I couldn’t imagine the Winter Queen doing the same.

The king waited until the scaled fae had vanished from our view before turning back to us. The pleasantness he’d shown his own fae hardened as he studied us again. It wasn’t that he looked particularly unfriendly, but certainly less jovial, less open.

“Winter is no friend of summer. I do not take it as a great thing to be called upon by her bloody hands. But, last I had heard, shadow was no friend of winter either. So what brings these two very different men together?” The king looked at me as he spoke.

I opened my mouth to say it wasn’t me, but that wasn’t completely true. Finally I said, “A request.”

“Really? And what might that be?”

“We are—” Falin began, but the king cut him off.

“I do not wish to speak to you, Knight.” He turned to Dugan before the other man could speak. “Or you, Prince. You are both insignificant and uninteresting.” He fixed me with his brilliant green eyes and flashed me a dazzling smile. “Planeweaver, you interest me. You may speak.”

A muscle in Dugan’s jaw bunched, but he said nothing. Falin turned toward me, fixing me with a look that spoke volumes of caution. I didn’t need the warning. The Summer King might seem warmer than the Winter Queen, but he was still a king of a Faerie court, and he couldn’t hold that position without being both cunning and ruthless.

“We are looking to speak to a fae named Lunabella, who we believe is a member of your court,” I said, making sure my phrasing was neither a question nor a request.

“And for what purpose would you like to speak to her?” the king asked.

I shot an imploring glance at Falin, wishing we’d discussed what needed to be said before we started this damn call.

“Don’t look at him, look at me,” the king said, leaning in closer.

His green eyes were so bright, so close, it looked like I could have reached right through the mirror and touched his face. He looked friendly again. Approachable. It wasn’t until I felt my hand moving that I realized my reaction was caused by magic. I balled my hand into a fist to keep it still and cracked my shields, letting my vision slip across the planes. That didn’t work out well for me in this instance, as the spelled mirror was shattered in my grave vision and the spell itself was a swirling mist of shadows among the broken shards. I could see pieces of the king’s face, but the effect was too distracting. I closed my shields again.

The king studied me. He likely hadn’t missed the glimmer of light that escaped my irises when I’d opened my shields, but he didn’t mention it. He just continued to smile, the pressure of the magic he was exuding heavy against my skin, but now that I knew what he was doing, it was easier to ignore. Falin’s gloved hand slid over mine, his fingers squeezing mine lightly, offering me support. The king didn’t miss that either. His eyes narrowed, the smile losing some of its strength.

“Visit my court. Let me dazzle you, and I will let you talk to whomever you wish,” he said, amping up the radiance of his smile again.

I could feel myself wanting to trust him. To think the best of him. I shoved the feelings down hard. If his personal glamour was this beguiling through a reflection, how much worse would he be in person? Then I considered what he’d actually said.

“Whomever I wish? You guarantee it, my lord?” I asked, and Falin’s hand tightened around mine. Warning? Or encouragement? I wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t looking at me. Lunabella might have been one of Stiofan’s killers, but if she was, she hadn’t been working alone. If she named accomplices in the summer court, it would be good if we had access to them as well.

“Visit my court. Let us woo you. And yes, you may have an audience with anyone you want. Except, perhaps, the queen. I cannot compel her to speak to you if she does not wish to.”

I blinked. Not every court had both king and queen, but apparently summer did. I could no longer see any of the females who’d been fawning over the king when this conversation began, but I certainly hadn’t noticed a crown on any of them. None had been Sleagh Maith either. While that didn’t exclude the possibility of them being queen, not being of the noble line of Faerie did seem to greatly lower the odds.

Those details weren’t terribly important right now. They were just something for my brain to focus on other than the possibility of willingly walking into Faerie again. This time into a different court. One that might be part of a conspiracy to pit the winter court against the shadow court. I fought to keep the frown from my face, but I must not have succeeded.

“What is troubling you about my proposal, planeweaver?” the king asked, that dazzling smile pressing down at me through the mirror.

I opened my mouth twice before words came out. “Your offer to let me speak to anyone I wish in your court is generous. But you have mentioned nothing about guarantees of my safety in your court. Nor of my freedom to leave again after I enter.”

“Clever girl. And they say you’ve only known your heritage a few moons, so either you’re a quick study or you’ve had an interesting few months. Okay, come to my court and I will grant you safe passage for”—he paused, considering—“three days and nights. If you wish to leave, I will let you, but after the cold halls of winter, I think you will find summer quite refreshing.”

Three days was much more than I needed. Especially since time in Faerie would climb closer and closer to parallel with the mortal realm as the longest night and solstice approached. We only had a few more hours before the festivities would begin, and that would complicate everything.

It was a good offer. The king was being generous with both protection and safe passage. He really was quite different from the Winter Queen. Far kinder, fairer.

I opened my mouth to agree, but a wave of cold magic shot up my hand, so frosty it seemed to burn my fingers where Falin’s gloved hand touched mine. I yelped, whirling on him as much as I could in the confined space. He just stared at me, his features carefully blank. I narrowed my eyes and then realized what I’d been about to agree to. The king’s glamour was affecting me more than I’d realized. There was no way I was walking into the summer court alone.

I turned back to the king, my smile carefully in place. I was going to have to examine everything I felt around this fae. He could manipulate me far too easily.

“I would require Prince Dugan and the Winter Knight to accompany me.”

“No.”

No negotiation, just a no. Behind the dazzling smile that kept trying to bespell me, the king’s expression was hard. I fought to keep my own expression friendly. We needed to speak to Lunabella. The king wasn’t our only avenue, but he was the only one that didn’t involve bloodshed.

“I would be happy to meet with Lunabella on neutral ground,” I said, and then added, “She should be at the revelry tonight, won’t she?” I smiled more brightly. The king didn’t need to know that our business with Lunabella would be complicated by waiting for tonight. Of course this could simply result in him forbidding her from attending the solstice celebration, but it was a calculated gamble.

To my surprise, the king laughed. A full-bellied laugh that caused his head to tilt back. I glanced at Falin and Dugan, but they both looked as perplexed as I felt.

“Your mortal upbringing is showing, little planeweaver,” the king said, and his green eyes crinkled with mirth. “You ask for something and want instant gratification. The revelry is in mere hours. I could hardly plan an adequate visit for you before that time.”

“A room to speak in would be sufficient.”

“Then how would I entice you to my court? No, you must see us in all our splendor.”

Well, crap.

“Then I would be willing to visit your court twice. I can come now to speak to Lunabella and in the process see what the true nature of your court is. Kind of like popping over to a friend’s unannounced and learning if she only scrubs her toilet when she knows guests are coming,” I said, with a vague gesture to the toilet under my foot. It was spotless, but that had more to do with having a brownie for an office manager than anything to do with my own personal habits. “And I would visit again at a later date, for the three days you have requested. At that time you can try to impress me to your heart’s content. But both times, I require an escort of my choosing.”

The king sobered, the mirth bleeding from his features. “You have flipped the tables. You have taken my offer of hospitality and twisted it until you are gracing us with your presence. Do you think yourself so valuable?”

Falin’s grip tightened to the point of pain and Dugan watched me from the corner of his eye. I considered the king. His face was open, inviting, but waiting. Would he fall on the side of taking offense? Should I backtrack and claim that wasn’t what I meant? Or did I want to push on down this road? Making an enemy of a king was a bad idea, but he’d seemed amused by my rougher edges so far. Hopefully that would hold true.

“You are welcome to wine and dine some other planeweaver.” I delivered the words with a smile, because the only other planeweavers were a pair of changelings in the high court. Currently, I was the only fae planeweaver.

The moment stretched, my words loud in the tense silence in the small bathroom. Falin’s grip was a vise around my fingers, and if I hadn’t been trying to act as confident as my words, I would have jerked my hand from his. After a dozen of my thundering heartbeats boomed in my ears, and I was sure I’d made the wrong choice, the king laughed.

“You are interesting. It would be my pleasure to host the fine lady planeweaver and her escorts, once we establish an agreement,” he said. “You may even come immediately and speak to any of my people whom you like. But in exchange, I want your vow that you will visit again on a yet-to-be-determined date of my request, and you will stay no less than three days.”

I swallowed the knot of apprehension lodged in my throat. Three days in the summer court. I could do that, as long as we negotiated for safe passage. I didn’t want to, but it would grant us entry into summer and give us access to our only lead.