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“Never,” I growl, thrashing at the chink of chains which seek to bind. “I belong to no one, not even you, Mab. It’s the reason you could not make me fight on in the Night Lands, the reason you want to take the one thing I own from me.”

“You will be mine, Lambton Wyrm, if you want her to survive the birthing of your young.”

I can’t see straight anymore.

“If you hurt her, Mab, I will come for you, and you will not escape my wrath, Faerie queen or no,” I snarl as my head hits the caged spell she has placed over me. Every inch of my being strains at it.

I cannot get through, I cannot get to her, I cannot rip her to shreds.

“I won’t give you anything, Fenrother, not until I have your troth. Your loyalty to me. Provide it and she lives…refuse me and she dies.”

I shove my nose hard into the spell and it sizzles on my skin.

“Follow me, and I will kill her without a single regret, Wyrm. You have three days to decide her fate, and yours.” The queen’s voice flows back at me and as sudden as the cage appeared, it has gone, and I am left snarling at the sky.

Every part of my Wyrm wants to go after her. Every single inch screams at me not to let Alice go.

But she cannot die either. I have to have her close to me at least until the curse finally takes hold.

That is, if she is prepared to look in my direction ever again.

I should have told her about the curse. But my regrets are too late.

I may have lost my mate in more ways than one.

ALICE

Ifeel sick. I’m not entirely sure if it’s from the interesting method of travel the Faerie used or in fact something to do with the alleged fact I’m pregnant. Either way, I think I might lose my breakfast as I stare at the small room, sumptuously furnished with a hell of a lot of gold furniture.

It’s as if the queen wanted to make sure I knew my place, with the size, and yet couldn’t quite help herself with the furnishings, wanting to show off her power and wealth.

A long chain runs from my wrist to a metal ring next to the bed. I’ve already tried to pull and twist it free, but it isn’t budging.

I’ve also tried both doors, one leading to a rudimentary toilet, but no bath, and one is locked, presumably the exit. There’s one small shuttered window, and I can’t get it to open either.

It’s possible the nausea is from my efforts and the way I feel completely useless against the magic the Faerie possesses. Being with Fenrother has not been a real introduction to the Yeavering. His lack of magic and the limited ways the Duegar used it mean I haven’t even really thought about it much.

But I’m getting the hang of it here. I’m also slowly understanding why the rest of the world beyond the veil accepted the Faeries’ help when we needed it and did nothing further to challenge them after.

How do you fight magic when you have none?

Hopelessness steals through my heart, gripping it like barbed wire. If I’m to believe Fenrother and the queen, not only am I pregnant, but I’m stuck here until I give birth and afterwards…

Fenrother dies.

And he knew this. And he continued on his path to destruction anyway, without even thinking how it would affect me…how it would affect any child I might have.

There was a curse, and he left me with no choice at all.

I slam my fist against the ornate carved gold headboard. It hurts, but not as much as my heart aches at his betrayal. And his loss.

The door swings open, and a large Faerie male, dressed in the uniform of the queen, all tight black leather and straps, sneers at me.

She obviously has a preference for the pretty, big muscular males too. This one has an air of a model around him, with his blond hair and bright azure eyes along with chiseled cheekbones and a sculpted jaw.

Of course, given their magic, the Faerie can probably be whatever they want to be, so I can’t trust the evidence of my own eyes.

“You are required for an audience with Queen Mab,” he says.