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CHAPTER NINETEEN

BELLE

T he nightmare was a single, unending roar of pain. It vibrated through my chest, like it was trying to pull me apart. I knew it was Adom. He was roaring in pain, in turmoil… and there was nothing I could do to stop the hurt.

My feet struggled to move. They sank into a sticky, invisible substance that clung to my shins like honey. I reached out, desperate to get to him. My upper body was swaddled in fabric—yards and yards of it, tangled around my arms, my legs, my throat.

I clawed at it, panic rising with every breath. It smelled of roses, damp earth, and something faintly metallic—blood, maybe?

Finally, I broke free and opened my eyes to complete and total darkness.

It wasn’t the comfortable dark of a room lit by wayward strands of moonlight. This was oppressive, heavy, like every source of light in the world had been swallowed whole. The air was too still, too quiet. I pushed myself upright, trying to get my bearings. Then realized I knew exactly where I was.

There was the small table where I’d set my tools as I'd sewn the threads of Adom's hair into the wedding gown. Curtains fluttered against the open window that Jorge had climbed in. Beyond the window was the faint outline of the woods where the trolls had emerged. I was back in the summer castle.

The door to the bedroom creaked open. It wasn't the whiff of flowers that I suspected that would herald the Fairy Queen's forest magic. It was the scent of savanna, a place I'd never been. But as the descendant of spring flowers, I knew my climates.

I smelled the sharpness of wind-carried dust and the faint memory of distant rain. Beneath it lingered the wild, untamed expanse of endless horizons where predators prowled and prey scattered like petals on the wind. The room shrank, shadows growing longer as the presence of the Lioness Queen filled it, commanding every inch of space without a single word.

My first thought was not for my safety or continued existence on this planet. "Is he okay?"

That roar had been guttural. It had sounded like he was dying. I needed to go to him, to hold him, to hug him, to kiss away any hurt and take it into myself. I wasn't a warrior. I couldn't fight. But I could soothe him.

"He's married."

Ouch. That stung. The queen and I were the same size. But one of us had delicate wings, and the other had teeth and claws.

"When did you know? That I wasn't her?"

"The moment I saw you look at him." Her golden eyes, so much like Adom’s, glinted faintly in the darkness. They lacked the warmth his carried. Hers were—not lifeless. Just resigned. Like she’d given up on life.

I was beginning to understand the feeling. "Does he know?"

It was a stupid question. I regretted it the moment the words passed my lips. I knew the answer, but the queen let the words hang in the air like a seam frayed beyond repair.

"He knows."

Of course, he knew. Adom knew me. He knew me. He had studied me with those golden eyes that saw everything, even the parts of myself I'd tried to hide. It would be clear to him on first glance that Charlotte and I might favor, but we were nothing alike.

I was lace and silk, soft lines and delicate beading. She was unpolished leather, strong lines, and smudged ink.

Where I loved beauty, crafting it with needle and thread, Charlotte cared little for appearances. Dirt and sweat never fazed her. Rebellion and nonconformity oozed from her very pores. My fingertips had calluses from hours spent stitching; hers bore the marks of climbing, lifting, and wielding strength no one expected from a highborn fae.

The fairy princess could wrap herself in silence, using it as armor. She was secretive and held her confidences tightly to her chest. Words spilled out of me like ribbons unraveling from a spool.

Charlotte was the real deal. I'd only been pretending.

She didn't want the crown. Neither did I. I just wanted the prince.

"Adom's—His Royal Highness's curse is broken?"

"It's His Majesty. And not yet. But it will be. Once he and his wife complete the marriage ritual. They've said their vows. He need only kiss and bed her."

I tried to swallow, but there was something caught in my throat. It was my heart. I didn't fool myself into telling myself I didn't care. That was a lie. I did care. I cared about Adom getting the thing he wanted most in this world: freedom from that curse.

So I nodded to the queen.

The corner of her eyes lifted, like she recognized something in me. Perhaps her own reflection.

"Am I a prisoner here?"

"Prisoner? You, my dear, are the talk of the capital. The wedding dress you made for Queen Charlotte and the tailoring you did on my son's suit—Colson has been recording the names of the highborn and royal houses who want your business."

The words should have sparked elation. This was what I’d wanted, wasn’t it? For my talent to be recognized, for my name to be spoken in drawing rooms and recognized in ballrooms. I’d imagined this moment countless times in Evergrove, when I’d stitched through the night until my fingers bled and my head hurt from dreams too big for my small world.

But all I could think about was Adom. His golden eyes, fierce and longing. The way he’d looked at me right before he kissed me. The raw tenderness in his voice when he said my name. Yes, he'd said her name, but he'd meant me. His little sphinx.

Charlotte wouldn’t stay. She would run again. She'd leave Adom alone. Alone with a mother who would steal away his happiness all in the name of duty.

I couldn’t bear the thought of him suffering, of the light in his eyes dimming under the weight of betrayal. All I wanted now was to make him happy, to stay by his side, even if it meant remaining in the shadows as nothing more than a servant. I didn't need to be his queen. I just wanted to be… his.

“You have choices.” The Lioness Queen moved closer, her fingers brushing against a vial hanging from a chain around her neck. It was small, delicate, filled with a shimmering liquid that caught the faintest glimmers of light. “You can stay here, in the capital. Become the famed dressmaker you’ve always dreamed of. But you’ll see them every day—King Adom and Queen Charlotte. Together. Not happy. Duty-bound.

"Or you can leave. Find a quiet life in another land and make your dresses. The hellhounds were quite impressed with your work.”

Those really weren't choices. Stay and have a career while nursing a broken heart. Or leave and… what? My mind blanked at a world without Adom. My gaze went to the window. A sliver of sunlight returned to the moon, giving Avarix back his pale white glow.

"Where's Jorge?"

"The soldier? He's made his choice."

And so had I.