34. Zoey

Zoey

Aethelthryth leaves the satchels with me—presumably so I can transport all this stuff to wherever I want to take it.

After lunch, I waste no time. If Aerix wants to amuse himself by giving me everything I asked for, then fine—I’ll take full advantage of it. So, I put everything back into the satchels and walk over to the largest fountain in the middle of the courtyard, sit down in the grass, and bring out the wood whittling tools.

The wood is smooth beneath my fingers—high-quality. Just like everything else in this gilded prison.

“Anyone want to join?” I call out, my voice carrying across the courtyard.

Sophia immediately bounces over, settling beside me.

To my surprise, Victoria lingers, eyeing the supplies with poorly concealed interest.

“Here.” I hold out another knife. “Assuming you’d rather whittle than take a stab at me?”

“Please.” She rolls her eyes, takes the knife, and sits down. “Physically harming anyone else here is a surefire way to get send to the barns.”

“And if anyone tried to attack a fae?” I eye the knife, confused about why Aerix would so easily give me such a weapon.

“If you attack a fae, then you’ll wish you’d been sent to the barns.” A haunted look crosses her eyes—one that tells me to not push further.

I can’t help thinking about those times when I launched myself at Aerix with that dagger. And his saying that he saved my life each of those times by not killing me on the spot.

Then there’s that person I remind him of. The one he didn’t want to talk about.

I want to know more.

So, I vow to get it. Eventually.

Meanwhile, Jake hurries to my side, and after him, others drift over. Sebastian and Tanya, then Isla, who looks at the wood with wide-eyed wonder. Even Elijah joins, although he maintains a careful distance.

Matt remains at his table, arms crossed as he talks quietly with Henry.

They both look pointedly at me, then leave the courtyard.

My heart drops in disappointment. I was so happy when I saw Matt—of all people—here with me. Well, I wasn’t happy that he’d also been taken here, and that he’s changed so much, but it was nice to see someone I’ve known all my life. Someone from Presque Isle.

But he belongs to the queen now. And I have a feeling that I best not forget that.

Aurora gets up and heads in our direction, and I think she’s going to join us, but she simply walks by and situates herself at another fountain, book in hand.

“So,” Jake says once she’s passed. “What are we making? Maybe a group project? A tic-tac-toe board or something?”

“Or a chess board.” Isla’s eyes light up.

“Aren’t you a bit young for chess?” I ask her.

“I’m thirteen.” She straightens her shoulders, looking insulted by my comment. “I started playing when I was seven.”

“Noted,” I say, reminding myself to not underestimate her. Clearly, she’s done something right to survive around here. “And sure. We can make a chessboard.”

Kings. Queens. Knights. Bishops. Pawns.

I start running through the different pieces in my mind, since I went through a brief chess phase after watching that television series about the chess prodigy girl on Netflix.

“I’ll make the king,” Isla decides. “It might feel good to… take a knife to him.”

She holds up the blade, and her eyes gleam with something shocking—something dangerous.

I’m definitely not going to underestimate her.

From there, we each decide which piece we’re going to work on first.

I claim the knight, without hesitation.

The knight is the only piece that moves differently from the others on the board. It’s not the most powerful, but it’s unpredictable, weaving its way across the grid in an L-shape no one ever seems to expect. It doesn’t charge forward recklessly like the pawns, or overwhelm with sheer force like the queen. It’s strategic. A piece that survives by staying flexible, adaptable—by thinking outside the box.

Kind of like me.

“I’ll take the bishop,” Jake declares, like he’s just claimed the ultimate prize.

I stifle a laugh, unsurprised by his choice.

“What does the bishop do again?” he asks.

“It moves diagonally,” Isla tells him.

Jake’s brow furrows. “Diagonally? That’s it?”

“Yep.”

He stares at the block of wood, as if it’s personally offended him. “That’s kind of lame.”

“It can move as far as it wants diagonally,” I add, not wanting to completely crush his ego. “So, it’s not useless. It’s just… situational.”

Victoria snorts quietly, and I give her a look, but Jake doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy examining the wood again, as if reconsidering his choice.

“You know,” he says after a moment, “I think I can make it work. Diagonals are underrated, right?”

“Absolutely.” I smile despite myself. “You’ll be the master of diagonals.”

“Damn right I will.” He starts carving with exaggerated confidence, his movements clumsy but determined.

Isla, meanwhile, is attacking her soon-to-be king with so much focus that I half-expect her to carve it into dust.

I run my fingers over the smooth grain of the wood that I’m holding, letting the rhythm of carving soothe me.

The others are equally as focused, and I give them pointers, so they have places to start.

“So,” I say casually, glancing up from my work. “What do you all think we could make besides chess pieces? Specifically, things that are useful?”

“Useful, how?” Elijah asks.

“Tools,” I say softly. “To help us. Somehow.”

Sebastian pauses his carving. “What are you getting at?”

“Getting out of here.” I run my blade along the wood’s grain, keeping my movements smooth. “The yarn could be braided into rope. The clay could be used to make impressions of keys...”

Isla’s hands pause mid-carve, Elijah shifts closer, and Tanya’s shoulders tense, although she doesn’t look up.

“Are you actually this stupid?” Victoria’s sharp voice cuts through the quiet.

“Victoria—” Jake starts, but she cuts him off.

“No, I want to know.” She sets down her half-carved piece. “Because apparently Prince Aerix was right about you. You really are too dense to understand how things work around here.”

“And how do things work here, Victoria?” I ask, although I keep carving, not wanting to let her get me riled up. Or at least, not wanting her to see that she’s getting me riled up.

“There’s no escape,” she says, keeping her voice to a whisper. “The wards, the fae, the guards—we’re powerless here. But hey, maybe you can try swimming away through the moat.” Her lips curl into a cruel smile. “But wait—you can’t swim, can you?”

My knife slips, nearly cutting my finger. “How do you know that?”

“People talk.” She glances around the circle, and the others avoid my eyes. “Everyone knows about your little performance for the king. How pathetic you looked flopping around in that bloody water. How you’re only alive because Prince Aerix wants to use you and break you. When you’re used up, he’ll have broken you so much that you won’t even be suitable for the barns. He’ll simply drain and throw you into the moat. With a bit left in you to add to the rest of the blood in there, of course.”

Ice runs through my veins, and I place what I’ve started of my knight onto the ground. “Has that ever happened?”

“The royals enjoy knowing that certain pets only belong to them,” she says. “They’d rather them dead than have them become scraps for the nobles.”

“Prince Aerix normally isn’t like that,” Jake adds, glancing at Lacey, Katerina, and Brenda—who are playing cards on the opposite side of the courtyard—before turning his attention back to his bishop.

The message is clear.

Prince Malakai is like that.

No wonder those three are so haunted. And who knows what else he does to them behind closed doors.

As for Victoria…

“I know we’re all trapped here. And I know we’re all scared.” I set down my knife, meeting her gaze. “But we should be helping each other. Giving each other hope. Finding ways to make this bearable, at least. Because right now? The only ones benefiting from us fighting are the fae who put us here.”

“I’m not scared.” Victoria stands abruptly, her piece of wood falling forgotten to the grass. “But have fun playing with your toys. See how far that gets you.”

She storms off, leaving the courtyard.

Tanya hesitates, then follows, leaving her unfinished pawn behind.

Elijah places his piece down, although from the curious way he’s looking at me, I have a feeling he’s intrigued. “You have hope,” he says. “More than I’ve seen from any humans I’ve ever met here. But be careful. Okay?”

“He’s right,” Sophia adds. “I like you. Truly. But maybe it’s best to direct your positive thinking toward appreciating what we have right now?”

“Like fruit tarts and fresh chicken?” I snap, and she flinches back, clearly hurt.

Guilt twists in my stomach. Because given what she told me at lunch, it was a low blow.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You’re in shock,” she says. “I understand. But I’m going to check on Victoria.”

With that, she places her piece down—a castle—and goes back inside.

Jake, Isla, Sebastian, and Elijah stay here.

Jake looks at the place where the others left, his expression troubled. “Zoey...” he starts.

“I know what you’re going to say,” I tell him. “That I shouldn’t talk about this stuff. That it’s dangerous.”

“It is dangerous.” He sets down his bishop, turning to face me. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

I study him for a moment, seeing the genuine concern in his eyes. He’s not like Victoria, lashing out from fear. He’s simply accepted this life. Found ways to make it bearable.

He sees me as one of those ways.

He wants to make me happy. I can see it in the way he’s looking at me.

“Are there any lakes around here?” I ask. “Ones that aren’t full of blood?”

“There’s a pond,” he says, watching me, waiting for where I’m going with this.

“Are we allowed to go there?” I ask.

“Sometimes.” He tilts his head, curious. “With supervision, of course. Why?”

“Because you’re going to teach me how to swim.”

His surprise melts into a slow grin. “Am I?”

“Yes.” I focus on my carving, ignoring the way the others are watching us. “Because I’m not weak. And I’m done letting anyone—human or fae—make me feel otherwise.”