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They haven’t been doing anything about it .

The thought made my heart sink. I began to pace the room, my anger that no one had believed me—that nothing had been done for all the pain and suffering—becoming too much.

Nickolai moved to sit on the couch, watching me patiently as I went back and forth. Seconds turned into minutes as I continued pacing, feeling caged—locked up with nothing but stale air and his eyes on me.

“Tiny?”

The sound of my nickname from the lips that once moaned it into my ear had me falling over the edge, needing to escape the sound and memories. Out of pure instinct, I reached for the door and sprinted out, not bothering to look back at the few footfalls that were taken in my direction.

“Mira!” His tone changed to a rushed shout.

My legs carried me through many hallways on a sprint, taking each turn based on the feeling in my gut.

I needed fresh air—to get away from the stifling feeling of being near him while he still breathed.

I hated this—how weak I was. Unable to handle even the slightest bit of off-putting news or change.

This wasn’t me, with so little control over my own body. I was completely at its mercy.

Eventually, I found a door, big enough to fit a giant through it, in one of the corridors that practically had ‘exit’ written in bold letters.

I had to use all of my body weight to push it open, and even then it was only a small gap.

The cold breeze that burst through the opening drew me to it like a moth to a flame.

Stepping out onto the grounds around the palace, it was an effort to regain my breath as I took in the gravel-filled pathways lit by the stars and moonlight.

I couldn’t even recall when I'd last been able to stop and stare at the moon.

The glow was enchanting. Resting against the stone railing a few feet from the door, I took one breath after another.

“My name is Mira Ambros, I am twenty-two years old, and I am in Iredon, Drine,” I whispered, grounding myself.

I don’t know how long I sat there before footsteps crunching the gravel had me breaking out of my trance to find streams of red curls cascading from the tight bun that laid around Ysabel’s round ears.

Her simple features were accentuated by light makeup that made her eyes appear larger with the line of black surrounding them.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she confessed, sitting beside me.

“I needed some fresh air,” I clarified, bringing my gaze to my once again fidgeting fingers.

There was a long pause of silence before she took a deep breath and admitted softly, “I do too, sometimes.” The silence wrapped around us once more as Ysabel sat patiently, waiting for me.

After several more moments of fresh air, I stuffed all of my thoughts behind even more mental brick walls, and we walked back into the ball, arm and arm.

Although I didn’t want to go back, it was clear that Ysabel was excited by the way her face lit up more and more as we drew closer.

For her, I would endure it, especially after she had quickly taken on the role of being a friend.

Something I hadn’t been blessed with experiencing much.

The rest of the guests, thankfully, moved on from me being the object of their attention. Each of them, too focused on their own conversations about what was most likely unimportant information and drama.

More people were dancing in the center to a song that sent chills down my spine at the soft harmony of the instruments.

My gaze locked on Nickolai—who seemed unfazed by our earlier interaction—as he danced with a woman wearing a stunning strapless red dress.

Her blonde hair was slicked back neatly behind her pointed ears, displaying large features of full lips that laid in a pout, and round eyes that focused solely on Nickolai.

“That’s Katryn, daughter of the Duke of Zheles. Rumor is, she came to be in the former queen's court in hopes of catching the king's eye,” Ysabel whispered, following my glance.

I looked at Ysabel as we sat at one of the empty tables near the double doors, trying and failing to sound sincere, “They look cute together.” A twinge of jealousy ran across my stomach, and I cursed at myself silently for the absurd feeling.

He isn’t mine, and I definitely don’t want him , I reminded myself.

I needed to focus on the bigger picture now more than ever—figuring out what changed for the monsters.

Ysabel continued, “She is a manipulative bitch—I heard that when Katryn first got here, she snuck into the bedroom of one of the ladies of the court and cut off half of her hair because the king smiled at her.”

“Remind me to keep my door locked,” I said, touching the braided crown on top of my head.

Even though I was one to admire fashion and indulge in getting dolled up, I’d never cared too much about how I looked.

But if someone tried to cut my hair off in the middle of the night, they would no longer have hands.

Looking back at the dance floor, I found Nickolai watching me, and Katryn following his gaze. “Fuck.”

With a chuckle, Ysabel declared, “I’m gonna miss your hair.”

I glared at her. “Not funny.”

“I wouldn’t worry, the king has a guard stationed at your door.”

My eyebrows knit together. “What are you talking about?”

She took a sip of champagne, preventing her from answering as the food was set in front of us.

A soft citrus scent mixed with savory meat from what appeared to be roasted mushroom and apricot lamb packed my nose.

My mouth filled with saliva in anticipation of the flavors, but as soon as the server was gone I glared at Ysabel again, silently telling her to start talking.

Finally she sighed, “It’s no big deal, a precaution since you’re new. ”

“To protect me or everyone else?” I asked.

“Both?” she shrugged. I contemplated whether or not to be offended or grateful, but that was cut off by a dark figure stepping up to the table.

“Hello ladies, you’re both looking as lovely as ever.”

"My king," Ysabel said, bowing her head.

I had to shut my eyes and take a steadying breath from the delight and irritation at hearing the velvet voice.

The enchanting leather and pine smell coming off of him forcing me taking a deeper breath than I’d anticipated.

He was like a siren to me. Focusing on irritation, I glowered at him, dismissing his compliment.

Nickolai cleared his throat and reached out a hand.

“Tiny, would you honor me with a dance?” His face showed nothing from the confrontation in the office other than a slight concern in his eyes, which I wasn't sure whether the concern was from that or whether or not I would say yes. Either way, it pissed me off.

“No,” I said bluntly, blocking out everything I felt about him, everything other than hatred. Ysabel had been looking at me with wide eyes at Nickolai’s request, which only grew wider with my answer. I stared back at her, silently begging to be saved, but she appeared dumbfounded by my response.

Nickolais' lips thinned, anger becoming apparent through the blue glow of the room.

“Fine,” he clipped. “Be in the war room tomorrow morning, early.” Rage filled the pit in my stomach, but with that command he stormed off, creating a whole new wave of whispers and not-so-subtle glances in my direction.

My cheeks heated and I ducked my head away from the attention, focusing on the plate before me.

“What the hell was that about?” Ysabel asked in a whisper as she leaned in. “Does it have to do with why you beat him to a pulp this morning?” I nodded, not offering any more on the subject. She opened her mouth to protest my silence but stopped with a sigh, opting to dig into her food as I was.

When we finished, she asked if we should go congratulate the former queen, to which I declined, claiming to be in need of sleep. I didn’t need to meet the woman of the man who broke my heart to know that she and I were likely not going to get along.

Soon after convincing her that I would be fine to get ready for bed on my own, I followed a guard back up to my room.

Soaking up every detail of my surroundings in the process.

Like the large clock hugging the wall near the top of the second floor and the radiant chandelier that hung before the balcony of the fourth floor—decorating the stairs up to the third in reflective sparkles.

Once at my room, the guard set himself into position upon the wall beside it. I moved to open the door but froze, the thought of that woman who had her hair cut off on my mind.

Turning to look at him, I questioned, “What’s your name?”

Shock filled his boyish features. “Sigric, Miss.”

“Can I trust you, Sigric?”

“I believe so,” he replied. It was likely the best answer I would get out of him. I nodded, locking the door behind me and walking to the bed where I mustered up just enough energy to at least take off my heels before plopping straight into the clouds.