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Thirty minutes later, I’m following Aerix down the palace’s grand staircase, my fingers gripping the railing for support as I try to adjust to the height of the heels he’s given me to match the dress.

The beautiful crystal chandeliers float overhead, each movement making the diamonds in my bodice flash in the light.

Guards bow their heads as we pass. Some look at me in surprise, others with barely concealed disdain. But not one dares to hold my gaze for more than a second.

As we approach the massive front doors of the palace, my heart pounds so hard I’m sure Aerix can hear it. Because I haven’t been outside these walls in weeks. Time has become almost nonexistent in this eternal night.

“Where are we going?” I ask as we step into the open air of the courtyard .

The night is alive with smells and sounds I’d almost forgotten—frost-tipped flowers, the metallic tang of the blood moat, and somewhere beyond, music.

Aerix’s wings shift as he turns to face me.

“Tonight is the night of the full moon,” he says, his midnight eyes reflecting the starlight, as if it’s a part of his soul. “When all night fae, regardless of station, celebrate in the streets.”

“And you’re taking me there?”

“Yes.” His wings extend, stirring the air around us. “Tonight, you’ll walk at my side, dressed as you deserve, where the entire court can see who you belong to.”

My breath catches, remembering my drawing—the one he took, the one he plans to frame in gold.

“Why now?” I can’t stop myself from asking. “Yesterday, I wasn’t sure how long it would be until you’d even want to talk to me again. And today...”

His thumb traces my lower lip, silencing me.

“Because I realized,” he says, “that what I fear more than anyone stealing you from me is you wanting to leave. Knowing that what I was giving you might not be enough to make you stay—that your desire to escape could outweigh everything I offered—terrifies me more than death.”

His confession takes my breath away, and I stare up at him—at this beautiful prince of darkness who kills without remorse and rules through fear .

The prince who’s apparently afraid of losing me. The one who tells me he loves me in every way that counts, even if he can never bring himself to say the words first.

Before I can respond, he steps away, motioning to the edge of the courtyard as a sleek black shape emerges from the shadows. Nyx, his jaguar, prowls toward us, her golden eyes gleaming, her muscles rippling beneath her midnight coat.

“Come,” Aerix says to me. “Tonight, we cross the blood moat. Tonight, you’ll see what it means to be mine in the Night Court.”

He lifts me onto Nyx’s back before mounting behind me, his arms encircling my waist, his chest pressed against my back. I feel the soft rustle of his wings folding tight against him, the cold trail of his breath on my neck.

“Are you ready?” he asks, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.

“Yes,” I manage to say, overwhelmed by the proximity of him, by the promise of freedom after so long in captivity.

“Hold on tight,” he tells me, and then Nyx leaps forward, her powerful limbs carrying us toward the crimson moat that separates the palace from the town beyond.

As we approach the wooden bridge that spans it, I catch sight of my reflection in the blood-tinged water and nearly gasp. Diamonds glittering against dark fabric, hair swept into elegant waves, sitting tall and straight before Aerix.

Not his pet. Not his prisoner.

His consort, for him to display for the Night Court to see.

I snuggle back into his hold, his arms tight around me. Safe.

His.

Warmth curls inside me at the thought.

We cross the bridge, the sounds of revelry growing louder with each of Nyx’s strides. Music with a pulsing, primal beat. Laughter that’s both joyous and menacing.

As we make our way down a narrow, winding street, the crowd parts for us. But it’s not the respectful scene from my drawing. Instead, I’m met with predatory stares, hushed whispers, and pointing fingers.

“Look at the prince’s little pet,” a female with red hair says to her companion.

“Dressed up like she’s one of us,” another sneers.

“I wonder if she tastes as sweet as she looks,” a male voice calls out, sending ripples of laughter through the crowd.

I stiffen. Because it’s the same as last time. It doesn’t matter what I wear—I’m nothing to them. As long as I’m human, I’ll never be anything to them other than their next meal .

Aerix’s body tenses, the air turning cold and sharp around us.

Then, from our left, a muscled man with jagged scars across his face steps forward.

“What a waste,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Using a perfectly good human for just one royal when she could serve all of us. I bet she’d break so beautifully after a week in my?—“

Aerix pulls out his dagger and throws it.

The blade embeds itself in the man’s heart, silencing him mid-word, surprise flashing across his face before he crumples to the ground.

The chatter stops, air thick with tension and magic.

“Does anyone else wish to comment on my consort?” Aerix challenges, ice and air magic pulsing from him in visible waves, frosting the ground beneath Nyx’s paws.

Silence falls so complete I can hear my own heartbeat.

Aerix turns his gaze to a trembling woman standing next to the man’s corpse. “You,” he commands. “Bring me my dagger.”

The woman’s wings pull tight against her back, but she doesn’t hesitate. She simply bends down, her fingers shaking as she pulls the blade from the dead man’s chest.

Blood drips from the tip as she approaches us, her head bowed in submission as she holds the bloody dagger up to Aerix with both hands, like an offering .

I should be horrified. A man just died—was murdered in front of me—for nothing more than crude words.

Instead, dark satisfaction blooms in my chest.

This is what it means to be Aerix’s. This is what it means to be valued in the Night Court. What it means to be a prince’s consort.

And, God help me, I want more.

Aerix’s midnight eyes flick to me, and something shifts in them. Something calculating and dark. Something that sets my body on fire.

“Actually,” he says to the woman, his voice carrying across the now-silent square, “I believe my consort should have it.”

The woman freezes, her wings completely retracted now.

“Your Highness?” she whispers, the words barely audible.

“You heard me,” Aerix says, chillingly calm. “Give the dagger to Zoey.”

The woman’s hand trembles violently now, her complexion paling to a sickly gray.

“Now,” Aerix commands, air snapping like a whip. “Unless you want to be next?”

She turns to me, and the loathing in her eyes is absolute. But beneath it lies something I’ve never seen directed at me from any night fae—fear .

She extends the bloody dagger toward me, handle first, her eyes lowered in the ultimate act of submission.

I hesitate only for a moment before taking it.

The weight of it in my hand is balanced and deadly. And as I study it, power surges through me. Because this is Aerix’s dagger—the one he uses to deal death without hesitation or remorse. And now he’s given it to me, in front of his entire court. Which makes it mine.

My fingers tighten around the hilt, and I feel a hunger I’ve never known before—not for blood, but for the respect it commands.

It’s different from what I felt while staring down at Henry’s dead body.

No, this is hunger for the way the night fae are looking at me now.

Not as food or entertainment, but as something to be feared.

Aerix’s arms tighten around my waist, his lips close to my ear.

“How does it feel?” he murmurs, his breath cold against my skin.

“Like I belong,” I whisper back, surprised at the truth behind the words.

“They’ll talk about this for decades—centuries, perhaps,” he says, his words meant only for me as his air magic creates a quiet bubble around us. “The night that Prince Aerix killed for his human consort, then armed her with his own blade.”

I turn the dagger, watching how the moonlight catches on its blood-coated edge, marveling at how natural it feels in my grip.

“What if they try to take it from me?” I ask.

His laugh is low and dark. “Then use it,” he says simply. “Show them why the gods gave you to me, to keep and protect, until the end of time.”

The urge to do just that—to prove myself worthy of this gift—should frighten me. But it doesn’t. Because fear is distant now, replaced by a hunger for more.

More power. More respect. More of whatever this is that makes me feel like I belong in this dark, beautiful world.

“Keep it close,” Aerix tells me, loud enough now for those nearest to hear. “It’s yours now.”

A possessive thrill runs through me.

His dagger. His court. His protection.

His love wrapped in blood and steel.

“Shall we continue?” he asks, deadly calm now, one hand around my waist while the other gestures toward the center of town where the celebration continues.

I nod, tucking the dagger into the sash at my waist. Unlike my other dagger—the one I used to kill Henry—this one is visible. A warning that Aerix will do anything for me. That he’ll kill for me. That I belong to him.

“Yes.” I straighten my shoulders and lift my chin higher, trying to look and sound as royal as he does. “Let’s continue. ”

Aerix’s magic swirls around us, like a caress telling me I’ve said exactly the right thing. And then Nyx moves forward again, carrying us deeper into the celebration. But this time, the crowd parts with more purpose. Less curiosity and mockery, more caution and deference.

And with every step, I feel myself becoming something new.

Something dangerous, powerful, and irrevocably his.