20. Zoey

Zoey

Nyx carries Aerix and me through the forest like a shadow, swift and silent.

The ropes tying me to them dig into my arms. Not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me how powerless I am right now. And the wind snatches away any possibility of conversation.

The landscape shifts from forest to hills, the thunder growing softer behind us until it’s gone completely.

Somehow—miraculously—we outran the storm.

Eventually, we crest over a hill, and a black archway looms ahead. It’s like a giant version of Stonehenge, but with only one of the rock formations instead of many.

“What’s this?” I ask, unable to ignore the ball of fear in my throat. As if this single arch is trying to warn me away.

He doesn’t bother replying. Instead, he digs his heels into Nyx’s sides, coaxing her to continue forward, under the arch.

As we pass through, a ripple of magic washes over me, like a buzzing along my skin. It’s subtle, but undeniable. Like the air itself is taking note of my presence.

Then, it’s there.

The Night Court.

It rises from the earth like a dark crown, jagged and angular, yet impossibly graceful. Fog floats through the narrow cobblestone streets, which have short, sharp buildings lining the paths. And then, in the center of the town—nearly piercing the clouds—stands a palace that reminds me of a giant, dark version of Cinderella’s castle at Disney World. The moat surrounding the palace contains water as dark as night, and it’s like the stars themselves are twinkling from its depths.

It’s beautiful. Dangerous. And it buzzes with undeniable magic.

Powerful magic that chills me to the core.

“We need to walk through the town to get to the palace,” Aerix says the first full sentence he’s spoken in hours. “Don’t squirm. Don’t look at anyone. And most importantly—be quiet.”

His tone is laced with so much warning that I bite back a snarky comment about how being quiet isn’t one of my many charming personality traits.

“Understand?” he pushes.

“Yes,” I reply, unable to tear my gaze away from the looming palace.

“Good.”

Slowly, Nyx leads us down the hill and starts down the winding streets. The fog curls around her paws, and the buildings lean inward, like guards trying to trap us. It’s beautiful in a cruel, foreboding way. A place that seems alive with secrets waiting to devour the unprepared.

“It’s sort of like one giant Diagon Alley, isn’t it?” I say quietly, gazing around with growing unease.

“Diagon what?” Aerix asks.

“Diagon Alley,” I repeat. “I guess you’re not a big?—”

I don’t get a chance to finish my sentence regarding the fact that he apparently doesn’t read much.

Because they appear.

The night fae, emerging like shadows, their attention snapping to us like moths to a flame.

No. Not to us.

To me.

I try to follow Aerix’s instructions—don’t squirm, don’t look, be quiet. But it’s impossible not to notice how they shift and move as we pass, or how the air grows thick with whispers. It’s like watching a train wreck—horrifying, but impossible to look away.

Some of them have their wings out, while others have them retracted. They all have the same midnight eyes as Aerix, with sharp, arresting beauty—the type of beauty that makes it impossible to look away.

“Look what the darkness dragged in,” a melodic voice carries from somewhere to my left. “Fresh meat.”

“She’s a pretty one,” says one off to the right.

“Wonder if she’ll last.”

My chest tightens, and I press myself closer to Aerix. The ropes binding me to him are the only reason I don’t topple off Nyx entirely.

“Relax,” he murmurs, cold and detached. “They won’t touch you. Not when you’re with me.”

“Of course.” I roll my eyes. “My fae-vampire knight in shining armor. With retractable wings and a black jaguar to match.”

“I told you not to say anything,” he snaps quietly, and I press my lips together, not wanting to provoke any more reactions from these creatures than I already have.

We continue our agonizingly slow walk through town, and a group of men lounging outside what appears to be a tavern lean forward as we pass, their eyes gleaming like cats in the darkness.

The way they watch me feels like being stripped bare. Vulnerable in a way I’ve never experienced.

“Do you think one of the royals will keep her?” one of them says.

“The king, no doubt,” another replies. “Just look at her.”

“Trust me—I’m looking,” chimes in another, and even though I’m not supposed to, I meet his gaze with a death glare that makes him go silent.

The deeper we go into the town, the more luxurious the buildings become. Sturdier, more symmetrical, and more ornate. Even the cobblestones are darker now, polished so they’re as smooth as glass. And the fae lining the streets are dressed more elegantly, in silk fabrics instead of cotton, which are intricately designed with lace and gemstones.

The whispers continue.

“I call first taste when he’s done with her.”

“If there’s anything left to taste,” someone else laughs. “You know how these things usually end.”

My heart pounds so hard I’m sure they can all hear it. And somehow, the rope binding me to Aerix feels less like a restraint and more like the only thing keeping me from being torn apart by the hungry crowd of vampiric fae.

I swallow hard and force my gaze to the cobblestones beneath us, ignoring the stares, the whispers, the low chuckles that seem to follow us through the increasingly elaborate streets.

Eventually, we reach the moat.

And that’s when I realize—the reason why the water is so dark is because it’s red. Dark red.

The same color as blood.

I can smell it now, too. Sharp and metallic, so strong that I can taste it in the back of my throat.

“Is that…?” I ask Aerix, my stomach lurching at what I’m looking at.

“You are truly terrible at obeying orders,” he observes. “But yes—that’s the Crimson Tide, which is what we’ve affectionately named our moat of blood mixed with the darkest water of the night.”

My stomach lurches at the confirmation, but I force myself to stay composed as Nyx crosses the black stone bridge spanning the blood-filled moat, which leads into the courtyard.

Opulent black fountains sit in the center of the gardens, with the same nauseating blood and water mixed liquid coming out of them as the moat. But the most terrifying thing is the palace looming ahead, carved from jagged black stone veined with crimson lines. Towers spiral upward, their tips glowing with moonlight, while sharp, angular arches frame enormous double doors. The building hums with energy that makes my skin prickle—an ancient, dark magic so dense it feels alive.

Two fae guards stand on each side of the doors, their sleek black armor gleaming in the moonlight, their dark wings out for us to see.

They take one look at Aerix, push the doors open, and reveal the cavernous hall, leaving me with a sinking feeling that I’m stepping into the mouth of a monster.