21. Zoey

Zoey

Finally, now that I’m close to being permanently fused to Nyx, Aerix dismounts and unties the ropes holding me down.

I slide down awkwardly, my legs wobbling beneath me the moment I hit the ground.

“Try not to fall on your face,” he mutters, brushing past me as if I’m not even worth the effort of helping.

“Thanks for the concern,” I snap under my breath, even though I don’t have the energy to put much bite into it. My legs tremble from hours on Nyx’s back, and every muscle in my body aches.

“Move,” Aerix commands, jerking his head toward the open doors.

Given that escape from here would be futile—I have zero interest in crossing the blood-filled moat and running through the fae-infested town where everyone wants to eat me alive—I follow reluctantly, stumbling after Aerix as he leads the way inside.

The grandness of the foyer makes my jaw drop.

The ceiling soars so high it disappears into shadows. Huge crystal chandeliers float in mid-air, moving like constellations in the night. And mirrors with ornate, silver frames line the walls, reflecting the black marble floors veined with crimson, creating patterns that shift and dance like shadows.

It’s such a stark difference from the gritty town surrounding it that it feels like stepping into a nightmare.

As we pass through the main hall, more fae linger in the shadows, their gazes following us. I feel their eyes on me, their whispers barely audible but sharp enough to cut.

“Another one,” someone murmurs.

“Hopefully she’ll last.”

“It would be a shame if she didn’t. She’s lovely.”

I press my lips together and fix my gaze on Aerix’s back, refusing to give them the satisfaction of knowing how much their words get to me.

Nyx, thankfully, stays by my side.

Aerix guides us through a series of corridors, each more beautiful and unsettling than the last. What looks like servants bow as we pass, their eyes lingering on me with that same hungry curiosity as all the rest.

We turn down a narrow hallway and stop in front of a set of wooden doors. They’re smaller than the grand ones we entered through—and the material doesn’t fit in with anything I’ve seen here yet—but they’re still beautifully ornate.

“This is the human wing,” Aerix says curtly, pushing the doors open.

Two fae women wait in plain black dresses, each beautiful in that sharp, dangerous way that seems standard here. And they have their wings retracted, unlike Aerix, who has his out on full display now.

“See her to a room,” he instructs them. “And make sure she’s cleaned up. She smells worse than Nyx after hunting in the bog.”

I flinch, glaring at him. “Sorry I didn’t have time to freshen up between almost drowning, being kidnapped, and then paraded through this creepy town,” I say, and I swear one of the women smiles slightly.

His hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around my upper arm.

The touch sends a jolt through me—part fear, part something else I refuse to name.

“A word of advice?” His voice drops low, meant for my ears alone. “I highly recommend that you behave yourself better here than you have so far around me. And if you try to leave this wing, the guards will teach you exactly why your kind fears the dark.”

His midnight eyes bore into mine, and the weight of his threat settles over me like a suffocating blanket.

I want to lash out—to fight back. But the rational part of me knows it’s pointless.

It’s clear after that march through town that the fae here want to rip me to shreds, drain me dry, and do God knows what else.

“Understood,” I say instead, strained but steady.

He smirks, clearly satisfied with my response, turns on his heel, and sets down the hall.

Nyx follows him, her sleek form disappearing down the corridor with a flick of her tail.

Something inside me feels empty as I watch them go.

Alone.

Like a speck of dust in a court of blood and nightmares.

One of the servants—at least, I assume from their plain attire that they’re servants—pointedly clears her throat, bringing my attention to her. “This way,” she says. “Let’s see what we can do about...” she gestures vaguely at me, “...this.”

I square my shoulders and follow her, unwilling to let them see me break.

I’ve been through far too much to fall apart now.

Gold-framed mirrors and matching sconces hang along the halls of this wing, the floors a warm wood that almost feels like home. And it doesn’t just feel warmer than the rest of the palace—it also smells warmer. Like sitting around a campfire on a crisp, cold night.

Eventually, we stop in front of an unassuming door, and they open it into a room that’s far nicer than I expected.

The bed is massive, draped in dark, luxurious fabrics, and a copper tub sits near the fireplace, already filled with steaming water. A wardrobe stands in the corner, its doors slightly open to reveal clothing that looks far too elegant for a human in the Night Court.

One of the fae gestures toward the tub. “Bathe. Change,” she instructs. “You’ll be summoned when you’re needed.”

“Summoned for what?” I ask, but they don’t answer.

They simply leave, the door closing behind them. Then there’s a distinct turning sound of them locking it shut.

My body goes numb.

I’m alone. Confused. Trapped in a world I don’t understand, in a realm where I don’t belong.

I glance around the room again, my gaze lingering on the tub.

I hate baths. I hate submerging myself in water, period. I’m a shower girl, through and through.

Plus, what if the water is mixed with blood? Or—maybe worse—poison? What if it seeps into my skin and slowly kills me?

Death by bathing in the Night Court.

It would be quite the unexpected way to go.

But screw it.

The dirt and grime caked on my skin is unbearable.

So, with a heavy sigh, I strip off my filthy clothes and make my way into the water, which is thankfully clear of blood. The heat soothes my aching muscles, and I let myself relax, sinking deeper into the tub.

Somehow—and I have no idea how that will be—I’ll get out of this place. I’ll do whatever it takes to survive around here. After all, some of the fae were whispering that they “hope I’ll last,” which means there’s a chance I’m not an animal being prepared for slaughter.

I’ll do whatever it takes to live.

Even if that means getting cleaned up, putting on one of their ridiculous dresses, and playing along with whatever games are coming my way in the Night Court.