Grave Destiny (Alex Craft, #6) - Kalayna Price Page 0,66

showed first shock and then sorrow before landing on anger. She pulled my hair hard, giving it one more twist before ramming a silver comb into it roughly enough to send a stabbing pain down my scalp.

“You’re done,” she declared, fluttering backward.

I turned toward her. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

She frowned at me. She had no eyebrows, but judging by the way she cocked her head, she was considering my not-quite apology and it puzzled her.

“You spend your time with the queen’s bloody hands, so perhaps you do not know, but we do not speak of those who are no longer with us.”

I blinked at her. “Ever?”

“Once we take our mourning black off, never. They are gone. We live.” Her wings folded and she sank to the ground. She was only about two feet shorter than me, but she seemed even smaller as she wrapped her thin arms around herself. “But if I spoke of her, I would tell you she was my sister,” she said, her voice very small, and I wished I’d never brought it up.

I considered telling her that while Icelynne was dead, her soul had not moved on yet. But I’d already put my foot in my mouth pretty hard. I’d met Icelynne after she’d already been murdered, and she’d been dead for our entire acquaintance. I’d talked to her just this morning, so I hadn’t thought about how hurtful it might be to mention her. Considering this fae’s stance on not speaking of the dead, I wasn’t sure if learning her sister was still around would be comforting to her or devastating, so I remained silent as she led me back to the queen and what was sure to be the longest night of the year in more ways than one.

Chapter 12

I sucked at being scenery.

Not that I felt bad about that fact. I was bored and fidgety and it hadn’t even been half an hour since Maeve had told me to stand in my spot and look pretty. She’d used those words: Stand there and look pretty.

Yeah. No. That wasn’t in my repertoire. But as I didn’t want to piss off the queen, I was trying.

The passages to Faerie would switch over soon, and every door would open to the winter court. Fae from all over Faerie and the mortal realm alike would pour into the clearing and a night and day of merriment would commence. The snow-covered field where we were standing currently looked rather small, but the more fae who arrived to fill it, the bigger it would get. Faerie magic was amazing and weird.

There was a sense of excitement stirring in the fae around me. Anticipation. Joy. Already I was hearing soft whispers of “be merry” as well as wistfully mentioned remarks about hoping particular singers or dancers from other courts would be attending, or even speculations about the food. I listened only because it was a good distraction, but in truth all I was looking forward to finding right now was a chair. I was tired, and the damned heels I’d been provided pinched my feet. Enchanted for comfort they were not.

Maeve was in charge of the court’s first-impression appearance. The court gentry were to look casual and yet undeniably elegant where they congregated just off to the left of the enormous carved ice dais supporting the queen’s throne. The handmaids were arranged to be frozen flowers waiting on their queen. The two remaining members of the queen’s council were the closest group to her throne, standing on the dais itself, and Maeve described their role as being dignified attendants. I was part of none of these groups, placed alone near the foot of the dais. Maeve hadn’t described what my role was in this living picture she was creating, but I could guess. I was the queen’s prized pet. Her rare planeweaver that no other court could boast. Goody.

“Stand up straight, planeweaver,” Maeve hissed under her breath as she swept one last glance over the people she had so carefully arranged. “It will do. She’s coming.” And with that, she hurried to her own place on the dais.

The throne and dais faced an opening in the dense wood line that was framed by frost-covered hawthorns. The queen emerged from the shadows under the hawthorns, her arm casually draped through Falin’s. They made a striking pair: she petite and dark-haired, wearing all silver and white, and he tall and fair, wearing a blue so dark it was nearly