26. Zoey

Zoey

Now that the royals are finished with me—including my new “owner,” Prince Aerix—one of the fae women from earlier leads me down the halls, back to the human wing. The nicer one with the brown hair, which is at least a bit of a relief.

As we walk, she tells me a bit about what to expect around here. Specifically, that I’ll be able to go anywhere I want in the human wing, but I’ll require a fae escort to go anywhere else.

I don’t remember if she told me her name. If she did, I was probably too spaced out to notice. I’ve only really been half aware of what she’s saying, due to the shock of being in a chemise dyed with blood, walking to a gilded prison in a nightmarish palace ruled by vampiric fae in a different realm.

How is this real?

I’m still half expecting to wake up at any moment, in my bed, with this being a long, intense, crazy dream.

Instead, we eventually arrive at the same wooden double doors Aerix led me through a few hours ago.

The human wing.

Two girls hurry past us as we make our way down the hall, whispering so quietly that I can’t hear. Judging from their normal, non-inky black eye colors and lack of wings—and from knowing we’re in the human quarters—I can immediately tell that they’re not fae.

“This will be your room,” my fae escort says, stopping in front of an intricately carved wooden door and pushing it open.

Decorated in golds and creams, with an elegant chandelier floating overhead, and plush furniture arranged in the common area, it’s even nicer than where they put me in when I first got here. But I don’t think it’s all mine. Because three doors branch off from the main space. Each one is identical, except for the small plaques engraved with names: Sophia and Victoria.

The third plaque is blank.

“Dinner is in thirty minutes,” the fae woman says, giving me a quick once-over. “You’re expected to join the others and present yourself appropriately. There are a few dresses in your room that are suitable for dinner. They’ll be slightly big, but they’ll work. You’ll be fitted for your own dresses soon.”

With that, she spins on her heel and leaves, the door clicking shut behind her.

I barely have a moment to process it all before one of the other doors flies open, and a girl steps out. She’s petite, with dark hair cascading in loose waves down her back. Her dress is elegant but simple—green silk that swishes around her ankles—and she looks slightly younger than I am. Fifteen, or maybe sixteen.

“Hi,” she says with a surprisingly bright smile, given our circumstances. “I’m Sophia. Welcome to… well, you know. Prince Aerix’s guest suite.”

Guest suite?

“Is that a fancy way of saying ‘luxury prison?’” I ask, and while her smile wobbles, it doesn’t disappear.

“You’ll adapt,” she says, but there’s something in her eyes—a hint of weariness that makes me think she hasn’t quite “adapted” herself.

“Does this include spa days and gourmet food?” I ask, motioning around the luxury suite. “Perhaps even the free?—”

I’m interrupted by another door opening—the one labeled Victoria.

The woman who steps out is older—mid-thirties, maybe—and in her red velvet dress, her entire demeanor screams do not mess with me. She’s slightly taller than I am, with brown eyes, and dark, perfectly styled hair.

I can’t help seeing the similarities between the three of us.

Apparently, Prince Aerix has a type.

“Well, isn’t this cozy,” she says with disdain, looking me up and down. “Another stray for our prince’s collection.”

“Victoria,” Sophia says softly. “She’s new. She’s probably scared.”

“She doesn’t look scared.” Victoria steps closer, her sharp gaze making me feel like a bug under a magnifying glass. “She looks… bedraggled. Disheveled. Unkempt.”

“Studying for your SATs?” I raise an eyebrow.

“What?” She scrunches her face in confusion.

“Don’t mind Victoria,” Sophia jumps in. “She’s Canadian.”

Victoria huffs and crosses her arms, turning her attention back to me. “Keep it coming,” she says. “The prince might like his toys to have some spirit, but test him too much, and you won’t last long here.”

She glances at the door with a blank plaque, and I have a feeling she’s referring to whoever occupied that room before my apparent assignment to it.

“Good to know.” I raise an eyebrow, unwilling to let this girl think she can walk all over me. First impressions matter, especially in places like this. “Anything else, or are we done with the veiled threats?”

“There is no veil here,” she replies, forcing an obviously fake smile. “Would you like some help choosing what to wear to dinner? I know exactly what Aerix likes. And what he doesn’t.”

“I know how to dress myself,” I say, although judging by the fact that I’m standing here in the equivalent of Night Court underwear, I suppose I can see how that might be unapparent. “But I need a minute. Alone.”

Victoria snorts. “Take all the minutes you want. Just don’t be late for dinner, or we’ll all pay for it.”

“Don’t scare her,” Sophia protests, but Victoria’s already retreating to her room, the door shutting with a decisive click.

“Let me guess,” I say when it’s clear she’s not coming back out. “She was going to recommend something she knows Aerix will hate?”

“Victoria’s…” Sophia shrugs, taking a moment to think. “It’s not easy being here. Especially at her age.”

“What do you mean?”

“The royals—the king, queen, princesses, and princes—only want the young and beautiful. Once we age out...” She swallows hard. “There’s another place. Not like this. We call them the barns, although I’ve heard they’re more like bunkhouses. That’s where the older humans go. They keep them there for the nobles.”

Horror rises in my throat. “You’re talking about them like they’re livestock.”

“The nobles don’t kill them,” she clarifies. “They just… share them.”

With that, Aerix’s warning rings through my mind.

If anyone so much as looks at her the wrong way, they’ll answer to me.

The royals clearly don’t like to share.

Although that apparently no longer applies when we get older and “washed up.”

“And you’re just okay with this?” I ask. “You’ve… adapted?”

“What’s the alternative?” Her smile is faint and brittle.

“Escape,” I whisper, softly enough that Victoria won’t be able to hear through the door.

I shouldn’t trust this girl so easily. But I have no one here, and this is a lot to process, and I need someone on my side. Desperately.

I’ve always thought of myself as an independent person, but I also never thought I’d have to face something like this.

“Trying is a surefire way to get sent to the barns.” Sophia’s expression darkens. “Or killed.”

I frown, since neither of those things are on my list of things to do after being abducted to the Night Court and claimed by the dark prince who took me here.

“Maybe I can help you get ready?” she offers, in an obvious attempt to change the subject. “I know it’s a lot, but the better you look, the better chance you have of staying here. Of staying safe.”

“Until my expiration date.” I glance at Victoria’s door, feeling bad for her, despite her less than welcoming introduction.

But I made a resolution when I got here.

Play the game. Be smart. Be strategic.

Stay alive.

If that means putting on a pretty dress, then so be it.

“Fine,” I say before Sophia can reply to my little expiration comment. “I suppose I can use the help.”

Judging by the king’s reaction to my hairstyle, it’s true.

“Great.” Sophia smiles, relieved. “Let’s go in and see what we can do.”