Page 10

Five days have passed since I drew my future with the blood-filled pen Aerix gifted me. Five days since I showed him where I truly belong—not cowering behind him, but riding beside him.

He’s said nothing about it.

Absolutely nothing. And while I continue to draw for him daily, I don’t draw the future anymore. I return to what I’ve always done—memories of the two of us together—of how majestic he is when he has his wings out for me to see and touch.

It pleases him… but with every day I draw, the lines grow more harsh and jagged, the page at the mercy of my anger and frustration.

No matter how much of my frustration comes out through my art, Aerix says nothing. He doesn’t even respond to the pressure I put on the harpsichord’s keys when I play songs I’m sure sound like far from music to his ears.

Now, I’m seated in a plush chair across from where he feeds from Sophia. Her eyes are half-closed, her expression a mix of shame and ecstasy as his fangs pierce her neck. Air magic swirls around them both, cold and controlled, but Aerix’s gaze—hungry and haunted—never leaves mine.

This has become a daily routine, but the ritual no longer disturbs me. Instead, a strange, possessive pride fills my chest. Because his mouth may be on her neck, but his attention is mine.

“Enough,” he eventually says to her, pulling away, his wings rustling behind him. “You’re dismissed.”

A thin line of blood trails down her neck, and she avoids my eyes as she presses her hair to the already healing wound.

“Not yet,” she says, surprising me. “I’d like to speak with Zoey alone.”

Aerix’s wings bristle, frost forming at his fingertips.

“Is that so?” His tone is deceptively light, but I recognize the dangerous undercurrent.

She needs to be careful what she says next.

I lean forward, curiosity burning through me as I focus on Sophia. “What do you want to talk with me about?” I ask her.

She meets my gaze directly, something defiant flickering in her eyes. “Something personal. Woman to woman.”

Aerix’s laugh is sharp and cold. “How quaint.” He crosses to me, his fingers trailing across my collarbone, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “You may speak in Zoey’s quarters, if she pleases. Ten minutes.”

The question hangs between us, and I nod, unable to resist the mystery.

“Ten minutes,” I repeat, and he trails his finger along my cheek, as if he’s pleased with me.

Then, he motions at the door to my quarters, and I lead Sophia inside, the door closing behind us with a soft click.

Sophia looks around, examining our surroundings.

“Your room is beautiful,” she finally says, focusing on the canopy bed—the one I rarely use, since I spend my days sleeping with Aerix. “Luxurious.”

“Aerix takes care of those he loves,” I tell her, although I quickly snap back to attention, since our time together is limited. “Now, what’s this really about?”

“You’ve changed,” Sophia says, her eyes taking in my silken dress. “The Night Court has swallowed you whole.”

“I’ve adapted,” I correct her. “I’ve survived.”

“At what cost?” She steps closer, and suddenly the spacious room feels smaller. “I know, Zoey.”

My blood stills .

“Know what?” The claustrophobia intensifies, a pressure against my lungs that makes it harder to breathe.

Sophia’s eyes harden, all traces of the vulnerable girl I once knew vanishing. “I know Victoria didn’t kill Henry. You did.”

The accusation hangs in the air, sharp and dangerous. But I keep my expression neutral, even as my heart pounds against my ribs.

“That’s ridiculous,” I say, but the lie doesn’t land.

“Is it?” She steps closer, and I back up, hitting the wall. “Victoria is gone because of you. They took her away, and we both know where she’ll end up. The barns. Or worse.”

The room continues to shrink around me, the walls closing in with each breath. Air—I need air. But there’s none to be found. There’s only the oppressive weight of Sophia’s accusations, and the tightening of invisible bonds around my chest.

“You’re wrong,” I say, each word carefully measured. “Victoria killed Henry. I was with Aerix when it happened.”

The lie slides from my tongue with practiced ease. Back in Presque Isle, I’d fabricated countless excuses to escape trouble—why I was late for work, why I hadn’t finished homework assignments, and why I couldn’t make plans. This is different only in scale, not in nature .

Sophia’s eyes narrow, disbelief etched across her features. “You expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t care what you believe.” I straighten my posture, drawing myself up to my full height. “Victoria was found guilty. She’s the one who killed Henry. Case closed.”

Guilt twinges inside me, but I push it down. Because I defended myself against Henry when he tried to force himself on me. Aerix, along with Isla and Aurora, helped me cover it up. Victoria was taken away. It’s done. In the past. It does no good to ruminate on it.

In fact… part of me wants to claim my actions. To stand proudly in the knowledge that I defended myself against Henry’s assault. I want to tell Sophia how his blood felt on my hands, and how his death freed something inside me.

But I can’t risk her carrying that truth to others. So, I hold firm to my lies, even though they ache to come out.

“You’ve become one of them,” Sophia whispers. “You’ve forgotten what it means to be human. To be one of us.”

Before I can respond, the door opens.

Aerix stands in the threshold, his wings extended, his midnight eyes fixed on Sophia. The temperature plummets, frost spreading across the floorboards in delicate, threatening patterns.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t need to. His presence alone fills the room with a suffocating weight, his air magic pressing down on us all.

“You’re done here,” he says to Sophia, his voice dangerously soft. “My consort doesn’t owe you explanations. Remember your place—unless you’d prefer to join Victoria.”

Sophia flinches, her eyes flicking to me.

I give her nothing.

“No, Your Highness,” she finally whispers, all fight draining from her body. “I apologize.”

“Don’t apologize to me.” His wings flare. “You need to apologize to Zoey.”