Page 21

ALIX

I can’t sleep.

With Daemon gone, I drifted off for what felt like only five minutes before I woke up again, gasping and shaking. I curled my fingers around the blanket and waited for the tremors to subside, sucking in deep breaths.

After that, I stay awake all night, pacing my room and thinking.

It’s hard not to notice that this is my first nightmare since that night at the inn. Usually, it happens nearly every night, but here, I’ve gone several weeks without panicking or waking up screaming. Is that something to do with the backward schedule, maybe? Or could it be what I’m starting to suspect…that this is the first night I can feel that Daemon isn’t outside guarding me. Even before I realized he was sleeping out there, I think I felt…calmer. Safer.

Ugh, I don’t want to go there.

Because once I start picking at that thread, it unravels fast. If I think about the nightmares, I’ll have to think about the wings and the intense promises and how my stupid heart squeezes every time he looks at me.

But if I think about that, I get depressed, because this isn’t going to work out. There is no happy ending here. The best-case scenario is that I marry his brother, somehow trick him into ending a decades long curse, struggle my way through a wedding night with a guy who clearly detests me, and then fake my death. Frankly, even the Grimm brothers’ versions of fairytales sound better than that.

I’m jittery and I don’t know what to do with my body so I decide to take a bath. It’s been long enough since I fell through the ice that I think it’s safe to sit in the hot water.

I step into the bathroom and see the light shining through the windows for the first time ever. The arched stained glass creates colorful patterns against the tile, and I smile as I take it in. My smile slides off my face when I see the wet pile of clothing on the floor.

Ugh.

I cross the room and start the bath, sitting on the edge until it’s nearly full. I turn off the faucet and slowly lower myself into the water. For a long second, I wait, nervous that all my muscles will atrophy at once or my heart will give out, but nothing happens.

All I can think about is what I’m going to say to Daemon when the sun sets again. He can’t possibly want to pretend nothing happened, right? I get that things are complicated, but that would be so high school…we at least have to talk about it.

Except, I don’t know what I want to say.

I mean, a large part of me says fuck the complications, we can worry about that after we hook up again…maybe a few times. How many times until I want to stop and talk about feelings? Eight? Ten? Never?

The situational crush I was trying to justify in the library suddenly feels way bigger and more important than it was ever supposed to.

I lean my head back against the edge of the tub, closing my eyes. When I open them again, the room is dark, and there’s a sharp knock sounding on my door.

“Shit!” I stand and lukewarm water splashes everywhere. “Just a second.”

Clearly, it’s nighttime, and I’ve been in the bath for hours. I fumble my way out of the tub and across the slippery floor, trying not to fall and crack my skull open in the dark. That would happen to me.

I turn in a disoriented circle, searching for a towel, then I make it to the doorway and then a few feet into my room where I can switch on the bedside lamp.

The knock on the door sounds again, more urgently.

“One minute,” I repeat, louder.

Despite the annoyance in my voice, I feel a tiny shred of excitement knowing that Daemon is awake.

I dry off quickly and grab the first item of dry clothing I can find off the floor and throw it on, before marching to the door.

It’s dark out, so I don’t bother to ask who it is before opening the door. This turns out to be a mistake.

I throw the door open and look up into icy blue eyes. “Oh my God!” I blurt out, jumping back.

“Isabelle?” King Thorne says, a slight question in his tone.

My eyes widen as I take in the entire hallway. King Thorne is standing there with an enormous box in his arms. Behind him are two soldiers I don’t recognize—presumably his guards, and to the left, Kastian is standing against the wall looking equal parts amused and horrified.

“Good morning,” I blurt out. “I mean, evening. Sorry, I, uh…just woke up.”

The king’s eyes dart over my wet hair and down my body. I look down as well and my heart sinks when I realize I’m wearing Daemon’s shirt. I must have grabbed it off the ground…holy shit.

I cross my arms over my chest. “Was there something you wanted?”

The king’s expression is completely flat and unreadable when he meets my eyes again. “I brought you this.” He shoves the box at me. “For tonight.”

“Oh okay, thank you…” I mumble. I have no idea what “tonight” is but I’m not about to make things worse by asking.

There’s a long awkward silence.

“Did you finally return to the library?” the king asks stiffly.

“Yes! It’s even more beautiful than I remembered.”

Rather than looking pleased, the king frowns. “It was an uneventful trip, I hope?”

“Uh, yes,” I mumble.

He can’t possibly know what happened with Foulo, right? If he did, wouldn’t he just ask about it? But what else about a library would be “eventful?”

King Thorne doesn’t explain himself.

He steps back from the doorway, his gaze tracing over me again and lingering on the shirt I’m wearing. I brace myself, half expecting him to reach for my throat like Foulo did.

“I’ll see you in a few hours,” he says shortly. “Make sure you’re ready on time.”

Without another word or so much as a smile, he turns on his heel and departs.

I realize I’m shaking with anxiety as I look up at Kastian. “What the fuck was that?”

“ Lucky is what that was.” Kas lets out a breath and glances at the T-shirt I’m wearing instead of a dress. “You should change.”

I flush, but nod and retreat inside.

Kastian might think the king ignoring Daemon’s shirt was lucky, but I’m not sure. I don’t even think he noticed. He doesn’t care.

God, in what universe would it be normal for an engaged couple to act like this? If I didn’t know better, I would say King Thorne doesn’t even like me—Nana, that is. If I was really in love with Thorne, or cared at all what he thinks about me, this behavior would send me spiraling.

Fuck, I don’t even care what he thinks, and it’s still kind of bothering me.

The clear contempt when he talks to me wars with what I understand about the curse. He has to at least believe he loves Isabelle, right? Right?

Within the hour, everything makes more sense.

Well, not everything.

I still don’t know what the fuck is going on with the king and thinking about Daemon sends me into waves of uncertainty, but I at least learn what “tonight” is.

I’d completely forgotten about the ball to reintroduce Isabelle to the court until Odessa turns up at my door to help me get ready.

“Do we really have to begin so early?” I ask, glancing at the windows. “The ball won’t start for hours.”

Dessa flounces across the room and takes a seat in front of my vanity mirror, pausing to assess her own reflection before answering. “Trust me. We need as much time as possible. You’re lucky I didn’t break down your door while it was still light out.”

Over the next several hours, I’m washed, brushed, shined, polished and waxed in ways I didn’t even know were possible. I’m wearing a red dress to the ball, so Odessa spends over an hour weaving actual roses into my hair, then another hour and a half on a pink eyeshadow look.

“I thought you said I could wear a sack and it wouldn’t matter,” I complain as she pushes my cuticles back with what looks like a fork. “And I’m wearing closed toed shoes, no one will even see my feet. Who cares what my nails look like?”

“I do,” she insists. “You were lucky enough to be born with legs, you might as well take care of them.”

I sigh. I was lucky enough to be born with a finite lifespan as well, but she doesn’t seem very concerned about making the most of my time.

Finally, finally , Odessa declares that I’m ready. For the final touch, she pulls a glittering tiara out of the box King Thorne brought earlier and places it on my head.

I cross the room to look in the mirror and my eyes go wide. That doesn’t look like me. I mean, it does, but the person in the mirror is better than me in every conceivable way.

The gown Dessa chose is a deep pinkish red, like the color of a pomegranate or—appropriately—a rose. The bodice is fitted, resembling an exterior corset, while the skirt is full and iridescent. The sleeves are voluminous and off the shoulder, and there’s a high slit on the right side of the skirt which shows off just a hint of my tattoo. To complement the dress, Odessa used the exact same color roses in my hair, all fixed to my curls in tiny individual braids. The red petals reflect in the diamond incrusted crown giving it the look of rubies.

I spin around, grinning.

“Told you,” Dessa says smugly. “Now, don’t you see how all that time was worth it?”

“You are definitely allowed to say I told you so. Thank you so much!”

She waves me off. “It was nothing. I like doing this sort of thing.”

“Now what?” I ask, glancing at the window. “What time do I need to go downstairs?”

“You’ll only have to wait a few more minutes,” she replies, gathering all the makeup on the vanity back into the drawer.

“Is Daemon coming to get me?”

Odessa shakes her head. “No, the king is. It’s your ball together, after all.”

“Oh…right. Of course.” I bite my lip. “Do you think the king really loves Isabelle?”

“I’d like to think so. Why?”

“He barely even speaks to me,” I say, sinking onto the bed. “Not that I’m complaining, but if I was really Nana, I think it would bother me. Like what does he even do all day?”

“He’s been preparing for the rose moon.”

“Yeah, but how much preparation does he really need to do? He has all these servants, and isn’t that supposed to be our wedding? Shouldn’t I be included?”

“Do you want to be?”

I sigh. “No, not at all, but again…it just seems weird. Why is he always leaving me alone all day, and with his brother? I thought you said Fae males were possessive.”

“They are.” She frowns, and her brow wrinkles.

My mind immediately replays Daemon’s words from the other day. “You’re mine. No one else will ever touch you or feel you come. Every part of your pleasure belongs to me.”

I flush.

Possessive is an understatement.

Except he’s not the one I’m supposed to be marrying. I’m sure there’s something off about this and I don’t think the problem is that I’m not really Nana. With the way King Thorne ignores her—um, me—I’m not sure it would have mattered if I really was her.

“Maybe it’s because of the other wives?” I muse.

“What do you mean?”

“Well…I don’t know. What if one of them was his fated mate or whatever.”

“That’s not a real thing.” She laughs.

“Okay, I don’t know what to call it. His imprint buddy. Twin flame. Whatever you guys call it when you lock on to one person.”

“Soul-bond.”

I let out a breath through my nose. “Exactly. What if one of the other wives was his soul-bond and so he can’t love Isabelle. I mean, me.”

Odessa looks sideways at me. “Daemon told you about soul-bonds? Gods. What the hell else do you two talk about?”

“I don’t know…” I flush. “Not much. But do you think I’m right? Could that be the problem?”

Odessa shakes her head. “I doubt it. I met the other wives, remember? As far as I recall, he spent even less time with them than with you. Look, I’d try not to worry about it. You’ll have plenty of time to talk tonight.”

I sigh. I suppose she’s right.

But I still can’t seem to shake the feeling that something is wrong.

DAEMON

Some days, I wonder what the hell I’m doing here.

Some days, it’s easier to remember that there are hundreds of lives at stake, including my own. Other days, I’m not sure any of the courtiers’ lives are worth saving. Why should I care about them when they’re all so incredibly vapid. Why the fuck am I in this castle, trying to play nice with my brother and force Alix into a marriage that I’m growing increasingly certain will kill me?

I’m standing against the wall of the ballroom clutching a glass of wine. All around me, the entire court is dripping in silk and jewels, dancing and talking as if they have all the time left in the world.

I hate these damn things.

I didn’t realize until now, but not everything about Dyaspora was so bad. There were no balls for one thing, and I never had to dress up and pretend to be interested while some court lady talks my damn ear off as if I haven’t already heard the story ten times.

The court was small to begin with even before the curse. Now it’s even smaller—only a few hundred noble families left in all of Vernallis. No one can travel anywhere because of the curse, almost no one from the other kingdoms ever visits, and hardly anyone has had any children in the last century. No new people or new experiences means there are no new stories. Yet, at events like this, after a few glasses of wine, it’s like everyone forgets how bored they are.

Not me.

I’m one of the only people who actually does have new stories to tell, but I don’t want to waste them on the court.

I glance sideways at the woman standing next to me. It’s one of Claudette’s sisters—Laurette or Paulette, I can never remember which is which. She’s talking at me with a level of enthusiasm I wouldn’t be able to muster for the happiest day of my fucking life, let alone for some inane small talk.

“Do you see the man with black hair over there?” I interrupt her to point across the room at Jett.

Paulette turns around and looks. “Yes.”

“Why don’t you go talk to him. I’m sure he’ll find this story fascinating.”

I don’t wait for her to reply and stride away toward the bar. Rude? Yes. Do I care? Not at all.

I make my way over to the bar and ignore the servant offering me more wine. Instead, I grab the bottle myself and fill my glass to the brim.

“You alright?”

I turn around at the sound of the voice behind me, expecting it to be Kastian. He’s tried to corner me into talking twice since letting me out of the bathing room several hours ago, but I don’t want to talk. I don’t know what to say and I don’t want to hear whatever he’s thinking.

I’m surprised and grateful when I come face-to-face with Fox behind me. I plaster on a grin and pass him the bottle of wine. “Yeah. Of course, why?”

He just stares at me with calculating eyes before taking a sip of wine directly from the bottle.

See, this is why I like Fox. He’s not quiet because he has nothing to say—I’m fairly sure he’s the smartest of all of us. I’m damn fucking sure he’s smarter than me. But rather than rubbing that in everyone’s face he just observes.

“I don’t want to be here,” I tell Fox—not that he precisely asked. “I hate dancing.”

He looks sideways at me, like i t didn’t seem like you hated it the other night.

I finish my wine.

I don’t hate a lot of things that would be far easier if I did.

What I really can’t stand is the triviality of something like this. There are mere nights left until the curse becomes permanent and Thorne is throwing parties. Maybe he doesn’t care about himself, but doesn’t he care about all the people he’s potentially dooming along with him? I don’t fucking care about myself either, but I’ve been scheming since day one to save as many of my friends as I can. You’d think the damn king would try to top that.

As if my anger had somehow summoned him, the enormous double doors suddenly open, announcing the king's arrival. The sound of trumpets fills the air and a servant's voice echoes through the room, demanding everyone's attention be directed toward the stairs.

If only out of habit, I raise my gaze to the sweeping golden steps.

Thorne stands at the top of the stairs surveying the court, but he isn’t alone. Beside him, Alix stands stiffly, looking slightly unsure of herself. She’s wearing a long red gown with a slit in the wide skirt, high enough that the tattoo on her thigh peeks through.

She’s fucking beautiful.

She’s mine.

I feel myself taking an involuntary step forward before I slam into something hard in my path.

“Don’t,” Fox grumbles under his breath.

I blink a few times, trying to clear my head. I realize that the thing I walked into was Fox’s arm holding me back. Gods.

I step back, shaking my head roughly and shove Fox’s arm away. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

This time, his silence feels judgmental.

As Thorne sweeps Alix onto the dance floor, the crowd parts to give them space in the center. The trumpeters fall silent and the string quartet takes over, their music swelling as Thorne and Alix move gracefully toward the middle of the room.

It’s impossible to keep from thinking of our dance the other night.

I fucking hate dancing—I wasn’t lying about that—but I hated watching her dance with Kastian more. Which, I know, is exactly why he did it. Kas likes Alix just fine, but he’s not hanging on her every word like I am, or obsessing about trying to keep her safe. None of my friends are doing that, which makes it harder and harder to convince myself that my interest in her is nothing more than physical attraction.

Any asshole can see that Alix is beautiful, but not everyone wants to cut off the arms of anyone who touches her—literally. Inspired by that thought, I stare at Thorne’s hand on Alix’s lower back and imagine severing it from his body.

Fuck, I need to get out of here before I do something stupid.

For once, I’m not worried about keeping a constant eye on Alix. Actually, I’m the biggest danger to her at the moment because the longer I watch her, the more ideas swirl in my mind. Painfully stupid ideas, like how I’d happily damn the entire fucking kingdom and let the curse take over just to have her all to myself for the next fortnight.

I step back from the dance floor and begin making my way toward the door. I keep my gaze trained on the doors avoiding looking at the dance floor, yet I see them anyway. I catch the reflection of the dance in one of the wide dark windows, just in time to see Alix turn in an elegant circle, her dress fanning out around her.

I don’t know whether I’m imagining it or it's just the angle of her reflection in the window, but for a second, I think she’s looking right at me. Our gazes lock in the dark reflection, and the compulsion to turn around and rip her from Thorne’s arms is so overwhelming that I stop short, my nails digging into my palms.

Fucking hell, what is she thinking right now? Is she remembering everything unhinged possessive thing I said to her yesterday when I thought she was in danger? Did I scare her?

I’m fucking scaring myself right now.

My heart races, thumping wildly in my chest. My skin itches and my face feels hot, just as it did when he kissed her in the throne room. I’m practically shaking, and any rational thought flees my mind, replaced by an incessant chanting. Mine, mine, mine.

“Daemon!”

I glance at the sound of my name coming from somewhere to my right and find Claudette pushing her way toward me. Fuck me, not right now.

“Where are you going?” Claudette asks, her blonde curls bouncing with every word, “You’re not leaving, are you? The dancing has barely begun!”

I can’t reply. I’m positive that if I open my mouth to say anything right now, I’m going to lose all control and blurt out what I’m thinking. She’s mine. I have to have her. I think I lo–

“Lords, ladies, friends, it’s a pleasure to see you all here tonight!” Thorne announces, his voice booming out over the crowd and penetrating even my tangled thoughts.

I don’t even know when the song ended or when they stopped dancing. I didn’t register the change, and I still feel like I’m in a daze.

“We were all fortunate enough to welcome Lady Isabelle back to Vernallis a mere two weeks ago,” Thorne continues, “and soon she will be the one who finally lifts our curse after a hundred years of suffering. Everyone here has been endlessly patient and hopeful, and for that, my rose and I want to thank you.”

The man knows how to make a speech, I’ll give him that much. If only anything he said had any substance. His speeches are gilded lies, just like everything else at this court.

“They look nice together, no?” Claudette says.

I shake my head again. “What?”

“The king and Lady Isabelle. They look nice together.”

I don’t answer. Against my will, I turn around to face the dance floor again. Without meaning to, I glance at Alix and suck in a breath when I meet her gaze, finding her already watching me. Maybe it’s my twisted imagination but I swear she’s begging me with her eyes to save her.

Why does this feel like torture?

I shake my head, but it doesn’t clear.

Something is wrong with me. I don’t feel sick, I feel off. Like something is shifting around in the back of my brain, rearranging itself and the movement is making me dizzy.

Thorne grins broadly, raising his arms as if to embrace the entire room. “Tonight, I wanted to present a gift to all of you, as well as to Isabelle, and I believe I have found a way to do both.”

My brow furrows. What gift?

I don’t have to wait long for the explanation. At that moment, two elven servants appear, carrying a golden violin case between them. Alix audibly gasps.

“Holy shit,” she mutters, seeming to forget for a moment who she’s supposed to be. The corner of my mouth ticks up at that.

Thorne meets the servants on the edge of the dance floor and lifts a glittering gold violin from the case. He holds it up to the crowd, nodding proudly as if he himself was the one to forge it, then walks back over to present the instrument to Alix. “For you, my rose.”

I can’t hear her reply, but I watch her mouth move. She says something, then laughs—looking genuinely happy.

I’m torn between pleasure at her happiness, and nausea knowing I wasn’t the one to cause it. I should have been the one to give that to her. It was my goddamn idea. He doesn’t know anything about her. He doesn’t even care…

Thorne must direct Alix to play, because she moves easily to the center of the dance floor, standing in the shadow of the enormous golden chandelier, and raises the bow to the strings.

I know what song she’s going to play before she even starts, and I’m not disappointed when the first notes of the ballad ring out over the crowd. As I’d expected, there’s muttering and excitement from the crowd.

Alix doesn’t realize it, but she’s playing the ballad of the first king of Vernallis. It’s a celebratory song that hasn’t had much reason to be played in the last century. It’s hopeful. Triumphant. Everything the court needs to hear and everything their king isn’t.

I was so shocked when I heard Alix playing this song in the tavern, it almost overshadowed my shock at seeing her come alive through her music. She’s a different person when she plays, just as beautiful but more sure of herself, more honest than I’ve ever seen her otherwise.

I know I should leave, but now I can’t. I’m fascinated. Mesmerized.

As I watch her, the light in the room shifts. The candle light flickers, casting shadows across Alix’s face.

My gaze drifts upward to the chandelier hanging over her head. It’s rattling slightly, its crystals trembling, as if a tremor rocked the room. No one else seems to have noticed.

I only have that brief second to wonder if something is wrong before things get exponentially worse.

The enormous golden chandelier suddenly breaks free of the vaulted ceiling and falls. A scream goes up across the room, but Alix doesn’t notice. She’s too engrossed in her music, her eyes closed and swaying, standing directly beneath the plummeting chandelier.

Just like all the times before, I don’t realize I’ve moved until it’s already too late to stop. Without thought, I shove Claudette out of the way and launch myself across the room. I feel like I’m flying, then I crash into Alix, tackling her to the floor, before blinding pain seers through my back and the chandelier crashes on top of us.

I’m shaking, my back straining from holding the weight off her. I can’t even see through the pain in my back, yet somehow I look down at Alix’s face.

Beneath me, she lies flat on the floor. The roses in her long hair are crushed, and her eyes are wide, like she’s barely yet processed what’s happened.

Shielded from the crowd by my body, she turns her wide blue eyes to mine and for a split-second our gazes lock. For a breath, I can’t even feel the pain in my back.

The haze on my mind clears, and whatever has been shifting in my brain finally stops, locking into place.

“I’m fine,” I growl, even as pain stabs through my back and shoulders.

“Are you sure?” Alix asks, a hint of panic in her voice.

“I keep telling you, Peaches, we’re not like you. A few flesh wounds aren’t that bad.”

I’m lying; it’s bad.

Twelve identical stab wounds mar my back. Most didn’t pass all the way through, but there’s a bloody hole on my right upper chest that makes me think I came very close to being pierced through the heart. Even for Fae, that would be nearly impossible to come back from. Blood loss can be recovered, skin can knit back together, but a knife through the heart will stop nearly any creature—magical or otherwise.

We’ve left the ballroom. Alix trots alongside me, holding her enormous ballgown off the floor. Despite nearly being crushed by a two-ton chandelier, she’s completely fine, which is the only reason I don’t regret the nearly unbearable amount of pain I’m in. I have one arm thrown over Kastian’s shoulder and he’s supporting at least half my weight as we make our way down the hall toward the barracks.

Worth it. Even if I had been stabbed in the heart, I wouldn’t regret saving her.

“Why isn’t it healing?” Alix demands. “I thought you’d heal instantly.”

“We don’t,” Kastian says, clearing his throat. “We heal faster than you do though, as long as the wound doesn’t get infected or pass through something vital.”

“Stop fucking worrying. I just need some bandages, I’ll be fine by morning,” I growl.

Kas looks at me suspiciously, and I’m sure he knows I’m downplaying the severity for Alix’s sake.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asks.

I look at her again and my chest aches in a way that has nothing to do with my wounds. This is the first time we’ve spoken since I left her room at dawn, and I’m dying to know what she’s thinking. I’m dying to drag her back upstairs and pick up where we left off. I’m dying…

“You can go back to the ball and act like Isabelle,” I say flatly.

She reels back, a combination of fear and frustration crossing her face. “Go back to the ball? Seriously? But you’re hurt.”

“He’s right,” Kastian grumbles. “Soldiers get hurt all the time. None of the other nobles care enough to be here. You need to go back and act like you don’t care or Thorne will be more suspicious than I’m sure he already is.”

Alix glances at me. “I’m not sure that’s true. If he was paying attention to me at all, he’d already be beyond suspicious, but I don’t think he cares.”

I nod sharply. I know what she means—despite my efforts to keep her at arms’ length, I haven’t been exactly subtle about my growing interest in her. And if I’m honest, she’s just as blatant. “I know, but just try. We’ve come too far to blow it all up now.”

For once, Alix doesn’t argue and turns around to go back to the ball.

“Kas,” I begin. “You should go with her. I?—”

“Don’t start,” he grumbles. “I need to look at your back. You know it needs to be healed and no one else has that much magic.”

I grit my teeth, but nod once. “Fine. Fox, make sure nothing else happens, then walk Alix back to her room before dawn.”

Fox nods once and departs. I expect Jett to go with him—those two are just as close to each other as Kastian and I—but instead, Jett stays, hovering behind me.

As soon as Alix is gone, I let out a breath.

I’m pretty sure the wounds in my back are worse than I’d like to believe. I won’t know until I get my shirt off to look, but the stabbing pain in my chest and the way my breathing feels labored tells me that one of the metal spikes on that chandelier might have done some damage to my lung. No need to tell Alix that, though. She’ll view this through her human lens and panic, distracting me from what I really need to focus on.

“That had to be intentional,” I mutter. “What the fuck is going on in this castle?”

And more importantly, what does it have to do with Alix?

“Agreed.” Kastian nods grimly and adjusts my arm on his shoulder to better help me up the stairs. “There have been far too many near-death encounters lately. The train crash, and everyone waking up to the sound of the bells.”

“Then there was Foulo in the library,” I add through gritted teeth.

“What happened with Foulo?” Jett asks. “I noticed he wasn’t at the ball.”

I freeze. Fuck. I didn’t tell them about that. Partly because there hasn’t been a lot of time to chat between maiming Foulo, pulling Alix from the ice, and spending the day locked in the bathing room of the barracks. But it was partly also because I don’t know how to justify my reaction to Alix being in danger.

I guess now I don’t have to justify it. The entire fucking court just saw me risk my life to protect her.

We reach the barracks. Thankfully, it’s empty, as everyone is either upstairs at the ball or using the absence of the nobles as an excuse for a night off. Jett holds the door open while Kastian half-drags me over to the nearest bed.

I hiss in pain as I sit. “It’s really not that?—”

“Shut up,” Kas scolds.

Being from Hydratta, he is unusually attuned to healing magic. Still, I have to grit my teeth and dig my nails into my thighs to keep from yelling as he begins working on the largest wound.

Jett crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the wall, watching while Kastian examines the wounds on my back. “So are we going to talk about this?”

“About what?” I growl through gritted teeth.

“Come on, Ashwater. You know what everyone’s thinking.”

“I’m not thinking fucking anything right now except how badly this—Ow!”

“Sorry,” Kastian grumbles, not sounding sorry at all. “Some of these are going to take a day or two to heal.”

“A day or two is nothing. It’s worth it. It would have killed Alix instantly.”

“Yeah, but that’s what I was trying to say,” Jett interjects. “How many times have you saved Alix’s life now?”

“I’m guarding her, that’s the point,” I snap. “And I’ve already said I think it’s suspicious how many near fatal accidents she’s had in only a few weeks.”

“Do I really have to be the one to point out the obvious?” Jett blurts out. “She’s your bonded.”

He says this so matter-of-factly, without any shred of doubt or concern that it knocks me back. A weight seems to clamp down on my chest, and for a moment, I can’t think of an answer.

“That’s insane,” I growl.

But even as I say it, a voice in the back of my head disagrees. Is it insane?

Soul-bonds aren’t predestined—at least, most Fae believe they aren’t. They’re formed, usually through shared experience or extreme emotional upheaval.

“I can’t be bonded to Alix,” I grit out, hoping my friends attribute my expression to pain from whatever Kastian is doing to my back.

“Why?” Jett asks casually.

I glare at him. I love Jett like a brother, but in moments like this, he’s so fucking annoying, I could—and often have—hit him. “Because…I’d know.”

“You sure?” Jett asks. “I wouldn’t say that self-awareness is one of your strongest qualities.”

“I’ve already fucked her, remember?” I growl, trying to sound as detached as possible. Like spending the night with Alix wasn’t the best night of my fucking life. “Everyone knows it’s impossible to sleep with your bonded and not realize it.”

“You sure?” Kastian asks. “I know everyone says that, but what if the bond wasn’t formed yet?”

I growl low in my throat, as much from anger as from the pain in my back. “I’m fucking sure. Alix isn’t for me. If I were bonded to her, I wouldn’t be able to handle her marrying Thorne, would I?”

Jett frowns, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not to kick you while you’re down, Ashwater, but you’re not handling it. At least, not very well.”

“You locked yourself in the bathroom all night,” Kastian interjects.

“Yeah,” Jett adds. “And you throw a fucking tantrum every time the king touches her. You’re lucky your brother is such an asshole and mostly ignores Alix, or don’t you think it would have already blown up in your face?”

I scowl, but I can't help thinking of Foulo writhing on the ground, or the blinding rage that hits me whenever Thorne touches her. I remember the moment in the ballroom when I looked at Alix and felt as if my mind was truly clear for the first time ever.

Fuck, are they right about this?

“Dessa thinks so too,” Jett adds. “She said she’s worried your feelings for Alix will expose all of us.”

“Since when do you talk to Odessa?” Kastian growls, speaking up for the first time.

Jett shrugs, glancing distractedly at Kastian. “Dunno. Why shouldn’t I?”

Kas doesn’t answer him. He swallows loudly, then walks around the side of the bed to face me. “That’s as much as I can do for your back tonight. You should let Fox guard Alix while it’s light out and get some real sleep. I don’t know how it’s possible, but you look worse than you did in Dyaspora.”

“Thanks,” I snap, reaching for my discarded shirt. I hold it up and scowl at the bloody holes marring the fabric. “Does one of you have a shirt I can wear?”

“Sure, let me just leave you with this.” Jett pushes off the wall and walks down the length of the room, keeping his eyes on us the whole time. “If you’re really expecting Alix to marry the king, what are you going to do on the wedding night?”

Without warning, a spike of adrenaline rushes through me. My pulse beats faster and black dots appear on the edge of my vision. I feel as if I’ve caught fire and I’m burning from the inside out, the urge to smash something, to tear the room apart is so strong, I could kill…

“It would be fine,” I grind out. “She’s perfectly welcome to do whatever with whomever she wants.”

Jett just rolls his eyes and goes to find a shirt.

I glance up, catching Kastian’s eye.

He looks at me apologetically. “Sorry, mate. Believe me, I know. An incomplete bond makes you feel fucking crazy.”

I just nod, even though that makes no sense.

Kastian hasn’t formed a bond with anyone yet. And hopefully, neither have I.

Despite what I said to my friends, I barely make it four hours before I can’t tolerate being away from Alix any longer. I heard Kastian’s suggestion that I sleep in the barracks tonight, but I can’t. I feel…itchy.

I’m sure the ball is over by now. It’s not quite dawn, but the barracks is already silent.

Inside my head though, it’s far from quiet.

I can’t fucking stand knowing that something strange is going on in this castle and that Alix might be in danger, any more than I can stand knowing I’ve left Fox to guard her all night.

I need to be the one protecting her. I need to know she’s safe. I need to… I don’t know. Talk to her?

A voice in the back of my head keeps demanding that I seek her out immediately and confess how I can’t think when she’s around. How watching her dance with Thorne felt like I was on fire. How I’m terrified that Jett and Kas are right, and she’s my bond.

I argue half-heartedly with that voice even as I climb the stairs in the dark echoey castle. I don’t know what I’m going to say when I get to Alix’s room, but I know I need to say something.

I find Fox on the floor outside, and he looks up at the sound of my approaching footsteps. “Is she still awake in there?”

He shrugs and gets to his feet. “Not sure.”

I run a hand over the back of my neck. “Right…well, you can go. I’ve got this.”

He looks me up and down, but just nods and strides away. I’ve never been so glad for Fox’s selective silence, because I couldn’t fucking handle having to explain what I’m doing. I can barely explain it to myself.

I wait for Fox to turn the corner, then approach Alix’s door and knock. I just need to see her and then I’m sure everything will be clear. There won’t be any bond or unusual connection, and I can go back to trying to get over my infatuation in peace.

I wait with bated breath, but I don’t hear Alix’s usual invitation to come inside. Maybe she went to sleep after all?

I knock again and a second later, I hear something.

It’s not a scream, but it’s disconcerting—like a high-pitched buzzing in the back of my head.

The hair on the back of my neck stands up.

“Isabelle?” I knock loudly; for once remembering to use her supposed name in case anyone is listening. “Isabelle? Are you alright?”

Alix doesn’t answer, and a feeling of dread washes over me. I unlock the door with a wave of my hand and step inside.

For a moment, I don’t see Alix anywhere. The room is dark as if she’d gone to bed, but she’s not in her bed and the bathing room door is wide open. “Alix?”

I turn and spot the doors to her balcony standing ajar. Dashing over, I push them open wider and my heart leaps into my throat.

Alix is standing on the railing, her bare feet dangerously close to slipping off the edge. Her arms are outstretched and her hair and nightgown whipping in the wind. As I lunge toward her, she teeters, swaying as if to music that only she can hear.

“Alix, no!”

I don’t waste time wondering what’s going on. I grab her outstretched hand, pulling her and catching her in my arms. She struggles, kicking and thrashing her arms. Finally, I realize that her eyes are closed—like she’s sleeping.

I sink to the floor of the balcony, Alix cradled in my arms. I tap her face lightly. “Alix! Wake up!”