Page 6 of Night Fae (Monsters of Veridia #3)

Zev stared at the ceiling, hating how powerless he felt. Chains bit into his wrists, the spelled metal humming against his skin, rendering escape impossible.

Dawn approached. Soon his father would return for his answer.

The choice before him wasn't really a choice at all. Resume his service as the Court's weapon or watch Malik suffer at the Prince's hands. Zev had seen what Ashelon did to his playthings. None lasted long.

Malik didn't deserve that fate. Not because of Zev.

And once Malik had been sacrificed, Zev's family would find some other way to force him into compliance as long as he couldn't escape, as long as he was weak.

His stomach twisted with hunger, magic dormant within him, starving for the rich taste of nightmares. How long had it been since he'd properly fed?

The scent of Malik's fear still lingered in the chamber, a phantom sensation that made his mouth water even as his mind recoiled.

No. Focus.

Zev tested the chains again, magic pulsing weakly against the restraints. Useless. Without feeding, he couldn't break free, couldn't save Malik, couldn't even save himself.

He'd have to make the deal.

The thought settled like poison in his veins. Return to what he'd been—the Night Court's perfect weapon, the obedient son. The life he'd escaped once before.

He had escaped it. That was the key.

Zev's breathing steadied as the realization took root. He'd worn the mask of a loyal assassin while plotting his freedom once. He could do it again. Let them believe he'd surrendered, bide his time, gather his strength.

Find a way out—for both of them this time.

The chamber door creaked open, interrupting his thoughts.

Lord Darius entered first, impeccably dressed in midnight blue, silver embroidery catching the torchlight. Two guards flanked him, faces impassive beneath their helmets. But it was the figure who glided in behind them that made Zev's blood run cold.

Lady Morvena. The High Priestess of the Night Church. His grandmother.

She moved like shadow given form, her silver hair swept up in an elaborate crown of braids adorned with black pins sharp enough to kill. Her violet eyes—the same shade Zev had inherited—surveyed him with cool detachment.

"Grandson." Her voice carried the stillness of a winter night. "You've caused quite the commotion with your return."

Even Darius seemed to diminish in her presence, taking a half-step back as she approached Zev. Old conditioning made Zev want to bow his head, to show proper deference to the matriarch. He resisted, meeting her gaze instead.

"I didn't return by choice, Grandmother."

Her lips curved in the barest hint of a smile. "Few choices in life are truly our own." She gestured to Darius. "Your father tells me you're considering a return to service."

Zev glanced at his father, whose expression remained carefully neutral. He'd spent his childhood watching his father navigate the dangerous waters of his grandmother's approval. Now Zev was doing the same.

"I'm considering it," Zev said carefully.

Lady Morvena stepped closer, the scent of night-blooming flowers and something older, darker, surrounding her. From childhood, that scent had meant both safety and danger—the comfort of her occasional affection and the terror of her displeasure.

"The Court requires your skills, Zevran." Her tone softened, nearly maternal. "The family needs you."

"And what of what I need?" The words escaped before he could stop them.

Her eyes flashed with something between amusement and warning. "What you need, child, is to remember your place in the order of things." She reached out, one cold finger tracing his jawline. "Have you made your decision?"

Zev met her gaze without flinching. "I have."

"And?" His grandmother arched one perfect eyebrow.

"I'll do what you ask."

A smile spread across his grandmother's face, triumphant but not warm. "Good child. I knew you would see reason in the end."

Zev lifted his chin. "But I have conditions."

"Conditions?" Darius started, but Lady Morvena silenced him with a mere glance.

"Speak them," she commanded Zev.

"After each assignment, I want to see Malik. I need to confirm he's unharmed."

Lady Morvena studied him for a long moment, her ancient eyes searching his face. "You would be wise not to grow even more attached to this human, Zevran."

"I'm buying his safety with my service. I want to see what I've purchased. Is that not wise?"

His grandmother stepped closer, her power prickling against his skin like frost. "Very well. Complete your assignments to our satisfaction, and you may see your human. Fail us in any way..." She left the threat hanging, unnecessary to voice.

"I understand," Zev said, the weight of his childhood obedience settling over him again like a familiar, suffocating cloak.

Lady Morvena nodded to the guards. "Release him."

The guards hesitated, looking to Darius, who nodded his permission. They approached cautiously, unlocking the spelled chains with a series of clicks. The metal fell away, leaving red marks on Zev's wrists.

Zev rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the stiffness in his bones. Freedom, however temporary, felt like the first breath after drowning.

"Before you begin your assignment," Lady Morvena said, "there is the matter of demonstrating your renewed loyalty."

Zev's jaw tightened. "I agreed to kill for you. Isn't that demonstration enough?"

His grandmother's smile chilled him to the bone. "Words are wind, Zevran. Even for fae. How can we let you walk out of this palace without knowing your resolve is true?"

"The Court has a prisoner awaiting execution," Darius explained, stepping forward. "You will carry it out."

"You raised me to be an assassin," Zev challenged, gaze shifting between his father and grandmother. "Not an executioner."

"We raised you to do as the family commands," Lady Morvena corrected. "This prisoner shouldn't trouble you. We've already caught and convicted them. Their life is forfeit."

"Then why do I have to do it?" The question came out sharper than he intended.

His grandmother's eyes narrowed. Zev half-expected her to slap him with the back of her hand for his insolence as if he were still a child, but she didn't.

"To show that you can follow our rules," she said softly. The quieter her voice, the more dangerous she became. "To prove that your years away haven't made you forget who you are. Who we are."

Zev knew better than to push further. "Fine," he said, the word clipped. "Let's get this over with."

Darius approached with a silver goblet, the same one from earlier. "Drink first. Regain your strength."

The scent wafting from the goblet made Zev's stomach clench with hunger—blood mixed with distilled terror, harvested from some poor soul in the dungeons. Once, he'd savored such concoctions.

"No," Zev said, turning away. "Let's just get this over with."

"You'll need your strength," his father insisted.

Lady Morvena waved a dismissive hand. "If the boy wishes to suffer unnecessarily, that's his choice." Her eyes held something calculating. "Pride has always been his weakness."

Pride wasn't why Zev refused. He just couldn't stomach accepting anything from them. They'd take any chance they got to turn him into something he didn't want to be.

They led him through corridors he'd once known better than his own reflection. Guards stepped aside, heads bowing to Lady Morvena first, then to Darius. Some looked at Zev with recognition, others with wariness. Word of his return had spread.

"The Court has missed your particular talents," Lady Morvena said as they walked. "There have been... challenges since your departure."

"Challenges?" Zev kept his tone neutral despite his curiosity.

"The barriers are weakening," Darius explained. "Strange things are appearing where they shouldn't. People are disappearing as well."

Zev thought of what Yuri had done, transporting them across worlds, but he kept his mouth shut. These two didn't need to know what he'd been up to.

They descended a spiral staircase, the air growing colder with each step. The execution chambers lay beneath the palace, far from the elegant halls above. Few who entered these rooms ever left them.

"The prisoner has been most uncooperative," Darius said. "Refusing to answer questions about their pack's activities along our borders."

Zev faltered mid-step. "Pack?"

His father smiled thinly. "Did I forget to mention? The prisoner is a werewolf."

The word ran through Zev's veins like ice. Werewolf. His lungs constricted, memories crashing through him with such force he nearly staggered.

Rhys laughing in the moonlight. Rhys's fingers tangled in his hair. Rhys shifting forms in a blur of magic, running beside him through forest paths. Rhys bleeding out in the dirt while Zev was miles away, unable to save him.

"Is there a problem?" His father's voice seemed to come from far away.

Zev couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. His father knew exactly what he was doing. This wasn't just a test of loyalty—it was an act of deliberate cruelty, designed to break something inside him that had never fully healed.

Lady Morvena stepped closer, her cold fingers lifting Zev's chin. "Your father asked you a question, Zevran."

He forced himself to meet her gaze, fighting to keep his expression neutral even as bile rose in his throat. "You want me to kill a werewolf."

"We want you to execute a criminal," his grandmother corrected. "Their species is irrelevant."

No. Nothing about this was irrelevant. They'd chosen this prisoner specifically, knowing what it would cost him.

"I won't," he said.

Lady Morvena's eyes narrowed to violet slits. "Refusing your very first order?"

"You know what you're asking." Zev's voice sounded thin, even to his own ears.

"I'm asking you to choose," she said, again in that dangerously soft tone of voice. There was no sympathy there. "Between your past and your future. Between sentiment and survival." Her gaze hardened. "Between this werewolf and your human."