Page 9 of Night Fae (Monsters of Veridia #3)

Zev stood motionless in the center of his grandmother's private study, his back straight, his hands clasped behind him.

He'd assumed this posture countless times before—the obedient grandson awaiting instruction.

It disturbed him a little how easily he could fall back into this pattern, but there was nothing he could do to change his situation.

For now.

The room hadn't changed in the years since he'd last stood here.

Walls lined with ancient texts bound in midnight-blue leather and silver filigree.

The polished marble desk where Lady Morvena now sat, examining a map spread before her.

Crystal sconces held floating orbs of cool blue light that cast no shadows, illuminating the space with perfect, merciless clarity.

Only the company differed. His father leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching Zev with undisguised satisfaction.

Zev kept his face blank, his mind emptier still. He hadn't been able to sleep that night. Not without finding the void inside himself again, that hollow space where emotion couldn't reach. It had served him well for decades before Rhys. It would serve him now.

Lady Morvena finally looked up from her map, regarding him with calculated interest.

"You did well yesterday," she said. "I hope you continue to do so."

Zev said nothing.

"Now," Lady Morvena said, gesturing at the map, "the werewolves have grown bold in our absence. They encroach on Court territory, tampering with powers beyond their comprehension."

Of course she would find more werewolves who had wronged her.

Zev didn't know why he'd bothered hoping for literally anything else.

If there was any mercy in Veridia, it would not be found within these walls.

He'd made the mistake of coming home, and so he would be punished for his crimes until he broke—or until he found a way out.

His grandmother traced a long, sharp nail across the paper, indicating locations marked with silver pins. "Here. And here. And here. They gather near the shadow paths, performing their primitive rituals."

Primitive rituals that had never hurt anyone. Zev kept the words inside as his gaze followed her finger. The western forest. The cliffs above the silver lake. The caves beneath the twin peaks. Places he knew well. Places he'd visited with?—

No. He shut down the thought before it could form. Memories were dangerous things.

"Why are you concerned about the shadow paths?" he asked, his voice neutral.

His father pushed away from the wall, approaching the desk. "They seek power they have no right to," Darius said. "The paths belong to the Night Court."

This wasn't strictly true. The shadow paths belonged to no one. They predated the Courts, predated most of Veridia itself. But saying so would only invite punishment.

"The barriers between worlds weaken," Lady Morvena continued. "Surely you've noticed. Things appearing where they shouldn't. People vanishing. The human in our custody is but one symptom of a larger problem. It's because the wolves are tampering with forces they don't understand."

That was so stupid.

What happened with the barriers wasn't the wolves' fault. It was Yuri's. All of this was Yuri's fault.

Oh, how Zev wished he could make that man pay.

Oblivious to Zev's thoughts, his father tapped the pin marking the western forest. "You're going here first. Eliminate the wolf that set up the ritual site there."

Zev wanted to say no, but what was the point?

He knew how this worked, and 'no' was not an acceptable response to an order from his elders. "When do I leave?" he asked instead.

"Within the hour," Lady Morvena replied. "But first, a precaution."

She rose from behind her desk, gliding toward him with that unnatural grace all ancient fae possessed. Despite himself, Zev tensed as she approached. Her power radiated from her like cold fire, pressing against his skin.

"Your arm," she commanded, extending her hand.

Zev hesitated only a moment before offering his right arm. Defiance would gain him nothing now.

Lady Morvena pushed up his sleeve, her cold fingers wrapping around his forearm. She began to whisper words in the old language of the fae. With each syllable, pain bloomed beneath his skin, sharp and insistent.

Darkness gathered around her fingers, sinking into his flesh. The pain intensified, burning through his arm like acid in his veins. His jaw clenched, but he made no sound. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

When she removed her hand, a mark remained—a thin black band encircling his forearm, pulsing with subtle magic.

"Insurance," she explained, her smile thin and sharp. "This will tell me when your task is complete. When the blood of your target spills, the mark will fade."

Zev stared at the mark, hatred a cold knot in his stomach. "And if it doesn't fade?"

His father stepped forward. "Then your pet human will suffer the consequences of your failure."

Zev glared at his father, wondering why he'd bothered even asking.

"I understand," he said, pulling down his sleeve to cover the mark.

"Do you?" Lady Morvena returned to her desk. "You seem to have forgotten so much of your training. Truly a waste." She shook her head. "To think you were so promising once. I was going to wed you to the Moon Warden's family before you left a black mark on your family."

Ah, and that was what truly rankled his grandmother about what Zev had done. He'd brought shame on her good name. That was why he had to suffer now.

"I am very sorry I could not marry into the Moon Warden's family," Zev said, though he was not.

Lady Morvena's smooth features wrinkled. "You would have made beautiful children, you and Ceris." She paused. "Well, she does have a younger sister, should you prove yourself worthy."

Zev didn't wish to prove himself worthy, but he was wise enough not to say it.

He was a night fae male. By the traditions of his kind, his future was not for him to decide. He would do as his matriarch decided, what was best for the family.

"I will do my job," he said just to end the conversation.

His grandmother studied him again. "Veridia's deadliest assassin, Zevran. I will not let you become anything less. I won't allow you to waste your potential, do you understand that ?"

"I do, grandmother." He bowed exactly the way he had been taught to do.

She looked at him for a moment longer. "I wish your mother had birthed a daughter. Daughters do not disappoint their families like this." She waved her hand vaguely. "You are dismissed, child."

Zev didn't look back. The mark on his arm throbbed with each heartbeat, a constant reminder of his chains. He would do what he'd been born to do. He would kill again. And he would find a way to make them pay for it—all of it—eventually.

First, he needed to hunt.

The western forest loomed before Zev, tall trees stretching toward a slate-gray sky. He'd traveled on horseback to the forest's edge, then proceeded on foot, each step carrying him deeper into memories he used to treasure but that would serve only as distractions now.

These woods. This path. He'd walked here before, but not alone.

The mark on his arm throbbed in time with his pulse, a persistent reminder of what waited if he got distracted from the task at hand. Malik would suffer.

"I don't want to be saved at the cost of your heart and mind," Malik had said.

Zev paused, resting his hand against the rough bark of an old tree. He could run. Disappear into the wilds of Veridia where even the Court would struggle to find him.

He knew how to disappear.

But the price for his escape would be paid in Malik's blood before Zev could hope to return and free him.

What would Rhys tell him to do?

He'd probably ramble on about how Zev 'really needed to learn to make his own choices.'

"You always have a choice," Rhys had told him once. "Even when all the options are terrible."

Zev pushed himself away from the tree. The memory wasn't helping. If all his options were terrible, did it matter which one he picked?

He and Rhys had often fought about this. Rhys with his unwavering belief that Zev could be something better than he was.

And where had that belief led him?

Zev tracked on through the woods, emptying his mind. Malik was his ally. Zev would not abandon him, and that was that.

After another hour, Zev found what he was looking for.

The clearing appeared undisturbed at first glance.

Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the forest floor with patches of gold.

Zev moved cautiously around the perimeter, noting subtle signs of recent activity—broken twigs, disturbed earth, the faint scent of werewolf that lingered.

But something else caught his attention. A strange shimmer hung in the air at the clearing's center, visible only from certain angles—like heat rising from summer stones, but wrong somehow. Colder. Deeper. Zev approached with hesitant steps, his skin prickling with awareness.

A shadow path. Not fully manifested, but close to the surface here.

Zev knelt, examining the ground around the shimmer. Runes had been carved into flat stones arranged in a circle.

Beyond the stone circle lay other evidence: a leather-bound journal half-hidden beneath fallen leaves, strange instruments of copper and silver, vials of what appeared to be earth and water samples.

Zev retrieved the journal, leafing through pages filled with meticulous notes and diagrams. The wolves were documenting changes in the shadow path's behavior.

Fluctuations in energy, instances where objects disappeared or reappeared.

One entry mentioned a tree that had vanished overnight, replaced by a metal pole bearing strange symbols.

A road sign from Earth.

Zev set the journal aside.

These wolves were scientists, not threats.

But it wasn't for him to question his orders.

The mark on his arm pulsed painfully, reminding him of his chains.

And the wolves must know the danger they were inviting by coming here.