Page 28

ZOEY

I lose myself in the sketches, the hours slipping away as I record every precious memory of Aerix. My fingers ache from gripping the pencil, but I don’t stop. Each stroke anchors me more firmly to him, to us, and to what we’ve become.

A sharp knock on the door startles me from my thoughts, making me jerk my pencil and smear graphite across the page.

I freeze.

Maybe it’s Aerix, come to pull me into his arms again. Maybe he heard how Victoria and Sophia walked out on me, and he can’t stand the thought of me being alone.

Hurrying to the door, I open it—and regret it.

It’s Henry.

He’s leaning casually in the doorway, his arms folded. But there’s nothing casual about the way his eyes travel over my body, along the thin nightgown that doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

“Go away,” I say firmly. “It’s late.”

“Come on, . I just want to talk,” he says, pushing his way past me into the suite. “Katerina told me she saw you with Aerix. That he dropped you off here instead of keeping you in his bed.”

“It’s none of your business,” I snap.

I never should have opened that door.

“In case you haven’t forgotten, I’m your ally, ,” he says, moving close enough that I can smell the alcohol on his breath. “Of course it’s my business.”

“You’re not my ally.” The words come out flat, but adrenaline spikes through me, setting my nerves on edge.

“That’s not very friendly.” He closes the door, his eyes raking over me again. “Especially since I came all this way to check on you.”

“I don’t need checking on.”

“Sure you do.” His gaze sharpens with desire. “Everyone’s talking about you, you know. The prince’s human slut who spreads her legs every time he crooks his finger.”

My fingers curl around the dagger in my pocket, rage hot beneath my skin. “Get out.”

But instead of leaving, Henry steps forward, forcing me back. Dark hunger swirls in his eyes, twisted and violent. I can almost taste the sour heat of his intention, and it makes my stomach lurch, every warning bell going off in my veins like wildfire.

“What are you doing?” I demand, backing away as he advances, trying to ignore the fast, panicked rhythm of my heart.

“I want to see what all the fuss is about,” he murmurs, a cruel smile curving his lips. “I want to see what makes you so special that the prince keeps you in his bed night after night.”

I edge toward the sitting area, trying to keep a chair or table between us. “You’re drunk,” I say, my voice shaking. “Go sleep it off.”

“I’m not drunk enough to miss how you strut around here like you own the place.” He lunges forward, grabbing my wrist. The impact of his hand is a clamp of iron, bruising my bones. “Like you’re untouchable.”

I twist, trying to wrench free, but his grip holds firm. “Let me go,” I snarl, my heart hammering so hard I taste blood on my tongue.

“Or what?” he taunts. “You’ll tell your prince? Do you really think he cares about you? That he sees you as anything more than a warm body to sleep next to and a soft neck to sink his fangs into?”

“He loves me,” I say, strong as steel, refusing to let Henry’s words rattle me.

He just laughs.

“Love?” he repeats, his lip curling. “Night fae don’t love. They use. They take. They possess. And when they’re done, they toss you into the barns so they can move on to their next young, shiny plaything.”

I stumble, the back of my knees hitting the edge of the couch. But before I can recover, Henry’s on me, his weight pinning me down as we fall onto the cushions.

“Stop.” I struggle, panic flaring in my chest. “Get off me.”

“Shut up.” His hand clamps over my mouth, the other tearing at my nightgown.

Terror and rage collide as he forces his knee between my thighs.

He’s on me. Trapping me.

So, I bite his hand, tasting blood.

He curses, pulling back just enough for me to scream for help.

“No one’s coming,” he snarls, pushing me down again. “Your precious prince isn’t here to save you now. It’s just us, and no one here to see. Your word against mine. And I’m a pet of the queen, and queen trumps prince.”

And king trumps queen, I think as his hands move to my nightgown, tearing at it again. It rips further, cool air brushing across my skin, and something inside me snaps—an explosion of fury and determination.

I will not be a victim again.

So, my hand closes around the dagger strapped under my nightgown—he’ll eventually notice it there anyway, since he’s trying to tear my clothes off—determination coursing through my veins. Better to use it on him than for him to find it and use it on me.

“Henry,” I gasp, “don’t do this.”

He pauses, a cruel smile twisting his lips. “Begging already? Good girl. I knew I liked you.”

His grip loosens just enough for me to yank the dagger free and drive it up into his stomach.

Steel sinks through flesh, his blood spilling over my hand as he howls in pain, rearing back as crimson blossoms across his shirt.

“Are you out of your mind?” He scowls, clutching the wound. “I’ll kill you for that.”

But all I see is red as Aerix’s words echo in my mind.

If anyone ever tries to hurt you… then I want you to kill them. In the most painful way possible.

So, I lunge forward, tackling Henry to the floor and bringing my dagger down again, this time aiming for his throat. A savage roar builds in my chest, more feral than I thought possible.

He shifts under my weight, and I miss, getting him in the shoulder instead.

“You—” he chokes, blood bubbling from his lips. “You don’t understand?—“

“I understand perfectly,” I snarl, yanking the dagger free. “You. Don’t. Touch. Me.”

His struggles turn futile, his wide eyes brimming with terror.

“Listen,” he gasps, blood streaming between his fingers as he clutches the wound on his stomach. It’s soaking the rug, my knees squishing into it as I hover over him. “Katerina lied…”

“What are you talking about?” I demand, my body shaking, the dagger poised for another strike.

“Her brother,” he wheezes, his eyes starting to glaze over. “Never sent to the barns. They tried to escape. She made… a deal with Malakai.” His breathing grows more labored, each word a struggle. “Turned on… her brother… for safety. And Isla…”

“Isla?” My grip on the dagger tightens, remembering what Aerix said about how I should stick with Isla and Aurora. “What about her?”

“She was raised here,” Henry whispers, the words barely escaping his lips. “She’s not like us?—”

His body convulses, blood pooling beneath him, soaking into the rug. A wet gurgle leaves his throat, and we lock eyes—his wide with a final flicker of fear.

“Henry!” I shake him, panic threading through my rage. “What about Isla? How was she raised here?”

The rise and fall of his chest stops. His eyes, still open, stare sightlessly at the ceiling.

No.

Clutching the bloody dagger, I scramble back. My breath shudders. The metallic smell of blood fills the air, and my nightgown—what’s left of it—is streaked with red.

Henry’s dead. I killed him.

My nightgown is torn and soaked with blood. My hands are slick with it.

But I don’t regret it. Not for a second.

Henry tried to force himself on me, and I stopped him—permanently. Just like Aerix told me to do. I made it hurt. I made him bleed. I made him pay for it. I gave him what he deserved.

But his final words echo in my mind, tugging at loose threads I didn’t know were there. Because Katerina lied about her brother. Isla was raised in the Night Court.

How the hell does it all piece together? What does Aurora have to do with it? How did Henry know about all of this in the first place?

I have no idea. The only thing I know is that I need to clean up this mess. I need to think.

And most of all, I need Aerix.