Grave War (Alex Craft #7) - Kalayna Price Page 0,142

of the nightmare realm? Yeah. We’ve met.”

Nandin’s lip curled back in a sneer. “Ruler? More like janitor.”

“You always say such kind things, Father.” Kyran released an exaggerated sigh. “The planeweaver visits quite frequently. She does so love her guilt-tortured nightmares.”

“I told you to stop watching my dreams,” I said, but the comment was mostly reflex because I was busy staring between Kyran and Nandin. Father? There was minimal resemblance between the two, but now that I was looking for it, I supposed I could see some familial traits. Faerie was such a small place in many ways.

Kyran turned his attention to where Lyell still blocked his path. “Are you planning to let me pass?”

The councilman turned a questioning eye at Falin, who, after a moment, nodded. Falin hadn’t sheathed his daggers yet, but he’d lowered them.

“What are you doing here?” Falin asked as Kyran finished his casual stroll across the room.

The slender fae lifted one shoulder in a blasé shrug. “Like I said. I’m here to join the fight against light. To restore shadow. To save Faerie. Blah, blah, blah. So on and so forth.”

I frowned at him. “Bullshit. You’re here to watch something. What’s the hourglass counting down to?”

Kyran’s grin grew.

“Enough playing, boy,” Nandin snapped. “Answer the consort’s question.”

The title caught me short, my shoulders hitching at the reference, but I did want—and more than likely needed—the answer. The last time Kyran had carried that staff, the hourglass had been ticking down to the moment that a crazed witch using a powerful plane-merging artifact would complete her potentially world-ending spell—or that I would stop her. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was once again counting down to some apocalyptic event. The sand wasn’t falling fast, but the hourglass couldn’t possibly hold more than a few hours’ worth of sand. That wasn’t a lot of time before . . . whatever was set to happen happened—or we managed to stop it.

“Consort?” Kyran exaggerated his eyebrow lift to a point that would have been comical in another circumstance. “No. Not consort, are you? You haven’t agreed to anything.”

I glared at him. “We were talking about the hourglass.”

“I knew it.” Kyran beamed. “You haven’t agreed. Faerie must have magicked that ring on your finger. Your commitment issues do leave such nice openings for others still hoping to win your affection.”

Now I wasn’t the only one glaring at the nightmare kingling.

“Hey, what’s with all the aggressive looks?” he asked, his smile never slipping. “I’m not speaking for myself. Planeweaver, you are fascinating, but not my type.”

“Nandin said you were the realm of dreams’ janitor. Did he mean jester?” I mumbled under my breath, which earned a snorted laugh from Dugan.

Kyran’s smile finally dimmed. “You’ve used that joke before.”

“What is the hourglass counting down to?” Falin accented the question by lifting one of his daggers. Kyran was close enough now that the blade touched his throat.

Kyran lifted one hand in a placating manner, palms out—the other hand still gripped his staff. “It is counting down to the end, of course. Or maybe to the beginning?” He frowned. “Or is it more like a semicolon? A to-be-continued.”

“Can you be less annoying and more specific?” Nandin growled.

Apparently I wasn’t the only one with a dysfunctional relationship with my father.

Kyran gave another one of those lackadaisical shrugs. “I’m here to help. My oath on it. But there are rules. Don’t ask about the hourglass again.”

There was a long moment in which no one moved. No one spoke. I didn’t even breathe. Finally Nandin shook his head.

“What could you possibly do to help?”

Kyran smiled at his father, and I winced on his behalf, even though no pain at the words showed in his expression. “The realm of dreams is crumbling into the same chasm the shadow court is slipping into. I like the home you’ve deigned to allow me to establish there. So it is in my best interests to see Faerie restored. I’m offering what aid I can.”

“Another ally in this fight wouldn’t be a bad thing,” I said, my words barely above a whisper.

Nandin shook his head again, but after a tense moment, Falin lowered his arm, his daggers vanishing.

“We will require oaths.”

Kyran wiped away the thin line of blood trickling from his throat, the smile never falling from his face. “I expected nothing less.”

Chapter 29

While Falin and Nandin extracted whatever oaths they required from Kyran, I settled in my seat at the table. I was starving and curious what was under the fancy silver