24. Zoey

Zoey

My stomach plummets as Aerix strides into view, his midnight eyes colder than ever as they sweep over me. His shadowy wings are unfurled, framing him like a living nightmare, and his silk finery gleams in the moonlight.

Prince.

He’s a prince.

All those hours together—the shared meal, the conversations, the journey through the forest—and he never once mentioned his true identity.

Then again, I hadn’t thought to ask.

Without a word, he strides past me and takes the sixth and final throne.

“Leave us,” the queen commands the servants, and they’re out the door before I can blink, closing the doors behind them.

We’re alone now. Just me and the royal family of the Night Court, in their terrifyingly massive throne room.

My fingers twitch at my sides, aching to grip something solid—anything to protect myself. But there’s nothing. Not my dagger, since Aerix took that from me after I tried to kill him with it. Not even a rock.

Just me, without an inkling of magic, standing in front of beings who could tear me apart without breaking a sweat.

King Thanatos descends the steps, moving with that same unnatural grace they all seem to possess, and gliding toward me.

Panic races through me.

Is this it? Is he going to kill me?

I glance at Aerix, praying for some sort of hint from him about what to expect—but I get nothing.

All I’m aware of is the king’s wings shifting behind him as he circles me, the shadowy feathers catching the light overhead. His gaze is purely predatory, like a cat deciding how it wants to play with a mouse before delivering the killing blow.

“Your hair,” he finally says, stopping in front of me. “It’s not a style I’ve seen before in my court. Who arranged it?”

“I did.” My voice comes out steadier than I expect, even though my heart pounds so hard I’m sure they can all hear it.

“Did you now?” he says, and his hand rises, yanking one of the braids free.

Fear colder than what I felt in the tower prison in the Winter Court rushes through me, and I shudder at his touch.

“Tell me, human,” he says, weaving his fingers through the braid, unraveling it from the bottom up. “What made you think it was appropriate to make yourself look so severe?”

I want to push him off me, but I have a feeling that won’t end well.

So, I stay where I am, pulling on every thread of strength inside myself to stay steady, although I don’t completely succeed.

“Probably all the pins in the vanity,” I say, not breaking his gaze.

If I do, he’ll have more power over me than he already does.

“You tremble, yet you dare to talk back?” He yanks another braid free. “I wonder, is that courage or stupidity?”

Aerix’s eyes are on me now, and I can see the warning brewing in them.

Is this really how it’s going to end? Killed because a man didn’t like the way I styled my hair?

My scalp prickles as he unravels the second braid, as if he’s unraveling my spirit along with it.

“You’re meant to be soft,” he continues, scaringly calm now. “Pleasing to look at. Decorative.”

His hands move with unnerving precision, undoing braid after braid, as if peeling back the layers of a facade he doesn’t approve of. My scalp burns with every sharp tug, but that’s not what hurts the most. It’s the casual way he touches me, as if I’m nothing more than an object to be adjusted to his liking, that feels like the deepest violation.

I force myself to stay still, even though every instinct screams at me to swat his hands away. Because I know better. The memory of the fae in the streets—their predatory eyes, their whispered threats—is too fresh.

And apparently, I’m not even prey.

I’m a trinket.

One meant to be decorative.

Which might be even more demeaning.

As the king continues to methodically destroy my hour of work that I put into my hair, the others watch with varying degrees of interest.

Cierra seems bored. The queen is dark and heartless. Mirena’s expression carries a flicker of what might be sympathy. Malakai leans forward in his throne, his hungry gaze making me want to crawl out of my skin.

Aerix watches carefully, as if he’s undoing each braid simply by looking at them.

“You worked hard on this, didn’t you?” The king’s tone turns mockingly thoughtful. “All this effort, and yet, it only serves to highlight how much you’ll need to be tamed.”

There’s that word again.

Tamed.

I’m starting to really regret bringing up the story about Milo to Aerix. It’s like the entire world was listening, and is now using the fact that I tamed a cat against me.

“And here I thought that styling my hair was the same thing as taming it,” I say sweetly, as if I’m not imagining how satisfying it would be to swat my hand at his face and slash at his skin with my nails like a feral cat.

He pauses, looking down at me with a slow, cruel smile. “So quaint. You thought.”

A laugh echoes from one of the thrones behind him—Malakai. “The human’s a philosopher,” he says. “How charming.”

“Isn’t it?” The king tugs the final braid, and my hair falls loose, cascading over my shoulders in thick, dark waves. “Much better. Now you look like what you are.”

“And what’s that?” I ask, the words slipping out in a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of control.

His eyes gleam, sharp and dangerous. “A pet. My pet.”

The word lands like a blow.

I step back, but his hand shoots out, wrapping around my wrist with unnerving ease. The strength of his grip is absolute—unyielding, but not crushing.

He’s toying with me, like a cat with a mouse, savoring my fear.

I glance around the room, desperate for someone—anyone—to intervene.

Mirena averts her eyes. Cierra studies her nails. The queen’s lips are pressed together in a harsh line. And Aerix stares straight ahead, indifferent, as if I’m no more interesting than a plain piece of furniture.

The king’s wings flare, casting deeper shadows around us, and then I see them—his fangs. Long, sharp, and glinting in the moonlight.

“No.” It’s the only protest I can manage as he moves toward me, but it feels so small, so insignificant in the face of his overwhelming presence.

He tilts his head, considering me with mild amusement. “No?” he repeats, as though tasting the word. “Do you think you have a choice?”

Panic surges through me as he moves toward my neck.

He’s going to bite me. Claim me. Drain me.

I would have preferred to have drowned in that waterfall—or even in their blood-filled moat.

“Father.” Aerix’s voice cuts through the tension, and the king jolts to a stop, clearly caught off guard. “A moment, if I may?”

Irritation flashes through the king’s eyes, and he snaps his attention to Aerix, his fangs still bared. “What is it?”

“I apologize for interrupting, but I must point out that she’s unworthy of your attention,” he says, rising from his throne. “She’s weak. Obstinate. And, as you pointed out after she talked back, stupid.”

The king raises his brow after that last point—when Aerix said this was something he’d already pointed out. “Go on,” he says, keeping his fingers wrapped around my wrist in a clear warning that I’m not to move.

“She can’t swim,” Aerix continues, sounding almost bored. “She’s a creature so fundamentally senseless that she’s unable to do such a basic skill, even for humans. She nearly drowned at that waterfall where I found her, flailing about like a child. Imagine the embarrassment of having a pet who can’t keep herself afloat.”

A ripple of laughter echoes through the room, Malakai’s the loudest.

The king straightens, frowning, and turns back to me. “Is this true?”

My cheeks heat, and from the way the king glares as me, I feel like that was as much of a response as he needed.

“Not to mention,” Aerix continues, descending the steps, his wings growing behind him as he approaches. “She’s incapable of following simple instructions. She questions everything, argues constantly, and displays no sense of proper deference. Yesterday alone, she attempted to stab me. Twice. You’d waste more time disciplining her than enjoying her.”

Malakai laughs at that, a cruel sound that echoes through the chamber.

Queen Ravenna leans forward, as if entranced by the entire confrontation.

The king’s grip on my wrist loosens as he considers Aerix’s words.

“Beauty alone isn’t enough to justify your effort, Father.” Aerix stops in front of me, his midnight eyes meeting mine, as if he’s a cat sizing me up. “And yet, she’s too pretty to send to the nobles. We don’t want to give them unrealistic expectations for what they might get in the future. So, since I’m the one who brought her here, I’ll take responsibility for her. It’s only fitting that I bear the burden of her shortcomings.”

I suck in a sharp breath at the cruelty of his words.

He might as well be driving my own dagger through my heart.

Queen Ravenna rises, her dress rippling like shadows as she glides down the steps to stand next to the king. “He has a point, my love,” she says, trailing her fingers down his arm—the one he’s not using to hold me in place. “Why waste your energy on such a dense, foolish, half-witted human? Let Aerix deal with her deficiencies. You have far better, more enjoyable, ways to spend your time.”

The king says nothing, and panic squeezes my lungs so much that I start growing lightheaded.

I don’t want his fangs touching my skin. I don’t want any part of him touching me, for that matter.

In a strangely twisted way, I’m almost grateful for Aerix’s insults.

“Perhaps you’re right,” the king finally says, and he releases me and steps back, frowning as he examines me. “However, before I make a final decision, I want to see this so-called deficiency of hers for myself.”