Grave Destiny (Alex Craft, #6) - Kalayna Price Page 0,29

question.

What Dugan had said wasn’t strictly true. It wasn’t a lie either, but we didn’t know when Stiofan had died. Without the land of the dead, his body could have been lying in Faerie for hours or for centuries unchanged. All we really knew was that Kordon’s body had been outside Faerie for a period between when he’d died and when he’d been pinned to the floor of Stiofan’s room. It seemed unlikely, but it was conceivable that the goblin had been complicit in the murder, left, been killed, and then his body returned to the scene of the crime. I couldn’t know for certain until we had more answers. The scene didn’t add up, but that didn’t exclude shadow from being behind the deaths.

“Talking to the shades will hopefully shed some light on what really happened,” I finally said, committing to little.

The queen considered me, her blue eyes narrowed and her full red lips compressed in a thoughtful line. “And I suppose you wish to bargain for a payment for raising these shades?”

There was censure evident on Maeve’s face at the idea, and Lyell, whom the queen couldn’t see, looked worried at the queen’s tone. I wasn’t sure if his worry was on my behalf or simply because his day didn’t go well when she was unhappy, but it didn’t matter. I shook my head.

“Not necessary. Your knight has already retained my services.” I didn’t mention that he was splitting them with Dugan.

The queen’s dark eyebrow lifted in a perfect arch. “Has he now? How very . . . industrious of him.” She turned to Falin. “Were you not the one who told me one should approach a crime scene with an open mind? And yet it sounds like you walked into the scene of our butchered noble already expecting it to be something other than it appeared.”

“The message I received indicated you desired Alex’s presence,” Falin said, and I could almost feel the effort it took him to not look at me or Dugan. “Hiring her expedited the process and best utilized your available assets.”

“Hmmm. Perhaps.” The queen turned back to the papers spread over the table, her dark curls falling forward as she leaned to roll the scrolls closed. When she finished, she turned back around. Her appraising gaze cut at me, and from her expression, I came up lacking. “Lexi, my dear, we really must work on your wardrobe. Your outfit choices are always so unbecoming of a lady of your station.”

She lifted her hand and my cringe made me sink deeper into my curtsy—she’d changed my street clothes to ball gowns in the past, and they didn’t tend to change back.

“My clothes are very functional for my job,” I stammered, hoping she’d leave them untransformed. I was rather fond of the silver sweater and leather pants. They were comfortable but dressy enough for meeting clients, in my opinion at least.

The queen tsked under her breath. “Females in the mortal realm act like pants are the only practical option.” She motioned to her own gown. It was admittedly the simplest dress I’d ever seen on her. Usually the gowns she wore featured full skirts, lots of layers, corsets, silk and lace. Her current dress was of an exquisite and no-doubt-magic-made material garnished with sparkling snowflakes—real ones, not embroidered—but the material looked more substantial than her typical fare, and the dress itself was a simple sheath with splits in the skirt so her legs were unconstrained; a small silver cinch accented her waist. A scabbard hung at her side, an enormous sword sheathed there. “I could ride a horse in this. Or I could”—she lunged forward and the sword was suddenly in her hands, the tip at Dugan’s neck—“slit a throat.”

She hadn’t drawn the sword; it had simply materialized in her hand, the move shockingly fast. Dugan stared at her, seemingly unruffled. He didn’t step back or lift his own sword to deflect the blow. The moment stretched, and I realized I was holding my breath. Falin looked unconcerned, but I could see the slight tightening of the skin around his eyes and the way his shoulders stiffened despite the fact that he didn’t rise from his kneeling position. He was definitely not relaxed.

Falin had told me not to get involved. Not to defend Dugan no matter what. But I really didn’t want to watch the queen murder him in front of me. It wasn’t my fault he was here—he’d hired me and insisted he wanted to