CHAPTER NINE

My eyes flew open.

I gasped and shot upright. For a few seconds, I was wildly disoriented, trapped in that black freefall and my wet cell. The lantern Zara had brought burned steadily from its place on the floor. I focused on it, and the small flame became my anchor, keeping me here. Apparently going so deep into someone’s mind had consequences—my head pounded.

I was dimly aware of Collith. He still knelt beside me, and his voice was uneven as he said, “I suppose I deserved that.”

The pain wasn’t going away. I closed my eyes against it, worried that I might vomit. “Just tell me why you’re here.”

But he didn’t respond. Silence hovered in the tiny cell. Wanting to see Collith’s face, I dared to open my eyes again. He was staring straight ahead. His long fingers twisted that strange ring. It seemed like an absent gesture, the movement of someone deep in thought. My patience was a thread swiftly unraveling, and just as I was about to snap, he spoke. “I’d like to reintroduce you to my people. On our terms, this time.”

After a beat, I snorted. “They’ll never accept me. I’m not fae.”

“No,” Collith agreed, meeting my gaze. His looked black in the gloom. “You’re not. But you are Fallen.”

Now it was Collith’s turn to wait for a response. It was difficult to think when everything hurt. If he were here, Oliver would urge me to comply. Play the part. Use Collith’s desire. But what about what I wanted? In this moment, it wasn’t even Damon’s freedom … it was mine. I shifted, as though to move away from the thought. The hard wall scraped against my injuries. I’d thought I was getting used to it, but when another wave of pain crashed over me, I nearly passed out. With that, the last of my endurance evaporated.

“Fine. Whatever. Just please … let me out,” I whispered. My voice broke at the end; never had I felt so weak. In an instant, Collith appeared in front of me. Without a word, he lifted me into his arms. His touch was slow and cautious, but it was impossible not to brush the lash marks. I moaned. The sound echoed off the walls. More colorful spots marred my vision and everything tilted. I drifted in and out of consciousness as Collith walked down the passageway and up the stairs. “No, wait. Free the others, too,” I tried to say. Nothing emerged.

Minutes or hours passed; it was impossible to discern which. At some point, door hinges whined. The sound roused me and I opened eyes that felt weighted down. We were in a bedroom. A massive bed took up most of the space, complete with canopy. The floor was covered in ornate rugs. There were even human-made furnishings, like a dresser and a desk. Lanterns glowed from every flat surface, making the space seem inviting.

There was a second doorway that led to an adjoining room. We walked past and I caught a glimpse of bookshelves. One of the spines read And Then There Were None. So Collith was an Agatha Christie fan.

Not what I expected from a faerie king, I thought dimly. Then there were no more thoughts.

A crackling, merry fire filled my vision.

Relief expanded within me, making it difficult to breathe. “Ollie?” I croaked. He didn’t answer. I didn’t want to risk sitting up or even turning my head; I’d had enough pain to last a lifetime. Seconds ticked past, marked only by the spat and hiss of flames. A frown tugged down the corners of my mouth. It wasn’t just that Oliver hadn’t made an appearance yet—something wasn’t right about the dreamscape. It felt cold and unfamiliar. Nothing like the haven Oliver had created for us.

This isn’t a dream, I realized.

Apparently I’d slept so hard that not even my best friend could reach me. Slowly, I became aware of other things. I was on my stomach, and the bed beneath me was soft and foreign. A faintly male smell emanated from the red sheets. My face no longer felt stiff and crusty, so someone must’ve removed the makeup Laurie had so painstakingly applied. The faerie dress was also gone, but it hadn’t been replaced with anything. My back was exposed to the chilly air, with what felt like fur to cover the rest. Who’d undressed me? I strained to hear a sound besides the fire, to discern whether there was someone else in the room. Nothing.

Dissatisfied, I dared to shift my head so I was facing the other side. Instantly I saw the tray of food next to the bed, and I was reminded that I hadn’t eaten since my last shift at Bea’s. The meal had been delivered recently, because wafts of steam still rose from the white meat. Some kind of bird, I guessed. There was also a chalice near the platter, with drops of condensation rolling down the sides. Maybe there was an underground spring somewhere in these tunnels.

My stomach chose that moment to rumble. I was starving.

Just then, something moved. I jerked my head so hard that it should’ve hurt. It was Collith. The sight of him made my appetite vanish. He’d removed his shirt and his bare back shone in the light. Defined muscles moved beneath the skin. That wasn’t what drew my gaze, however—it was the scars. There were two of them, and they traveled from his shoulder blades to his waist. Exactly where his wings should have been.

Collith turned and caught me staring. Our last conversation was still fresh in my mind, and there were still so many questions I wanted to ask, so many things I wanted to say. “Do they hurt?” I heard myself ask instead.

The faerie didn’t pretend to misunderstand. He pulled another shirt over his head and shrugged it into place, effectively covering the marks. “Yes, but not in the way you mean. It’s like a missing limb. Sometimes I can still feel them. Also, be sure to drink that. Don’t worry, you can move.”

A lock of hair fell into his eyes as he nodded at the tray. Holding the fur to my chest, I rolled onto my side to follow his gaze, and once again, the movement didn’t hurt as much as it should’ve. Zara, I thought sourly. Doubtless she’d come while I was sleeping and healed some of the damage. I didn’t like owing debts to anyone, especially a faerie.

Hopefully she was the one that took off the dress, though.

There were too many hours I couldn’t account for. Thinking this, I frowned at Collith. “Why am I in here? Why didn’t you take me to my room?”

“Thanks to the tribunal, my court is now aware of your presence. Your room is no longer safe.” Collith’s tone was distracted. He looped a belt around his waist, and I deliberately focused on the objects in front of me. Beside the chalice was a wooden cup. I leaned forward to pick it up, thinking it would be water, but the liquid inside was opalescent. Was he trying to enchant me?

Still moving cautiously, I sat up and rested my back against the headboard. Hardly even a twinge. Glowering, I watched the contents of the cup glimmer and slosh. Mom’s voice whispered in my ear. It’s been said that if you consume faerie food or drink, you’ll go mad. Which meant the delicious-looking meat was off limits, too. I rested the cup against my stomach and met Collith’s gaze. The image of his back lingered on my mind, though. “You were there, then? At the beginning?” I asked next. I told myself I wanted to know more because information was power.

I watched him take note of the untouched drink and food. Apparently Collith decided not to comment. He raked his hair away from his face and that stubborn lock fell right back. “No. I was born in this world. Second generation. But we still form with wings; they fall off within a few years. God’s reminder to us, I suppose, of what we lost in the uprising.”

Though his demeanor was casual, his eyes betrayed a pain he still felt. Whether it was from the loss of his wings or because of a failed rebellion, I didn’t know. Unsure what to say, my own eyes drifted. They landed on a coat draped over the back of a chair. It was black and embroidered with what I assumed to be the written language of the fae. The words were in golden thread, travelling along the hem and sleeves. It was a coat fit for a king. “Are you going to a party?” I blurted.

The question seemed to remind him of it. Collith retrieved the coat and pulled it on. The material made his shoulders look broader. “Yes,” he answered, tugging at the sleeves with his long fingers. “I had hoped you’d like to accompany me. It’s a three-day feast called Olorel. Like a human holiday, perhaps. It’s why the throne room was so full when you arrived.”

I made a sound that was halfway between an incredulous laugh and a disdainful scoff. “No, thanks.”

“It’s not like the … gathering you witnessed,” he said with a grimace. “This celebrates one of our most important anniversaries.”

At this, I quirked a brow. “You have anniversaries? No, wait, let me guess. It’s for the day faeries discovered how to get off.”

Collith laughed. It was the first time I’d heard the sound. It was deep and rich and vibrated through me. “Not quite,” he replied. “It marks a day shortly after the Dark Prince was thrown into the pit. His followers were cast out with him, of course, and many angels were separated during the fall. This is how the separate species came to be. One group found themselves in the wilderness; they would eventually become known as fae. Most were drained or injured after the Battle of Red Pearls. For the first time, they were vulnerable against beasts, humans, and elements.

“There was one among them named Olorel. He had the ability to create openings to dimensions alongside this one. When he realized their survival was unlikely, he gave his life to create a place his companions would be safe. None of us would exist without him, which is why it’s a sacred memory for our kind. You already missed the first night, but the second will be just as significant.”

“Will the Seelie Court be there, too, then?” I asked, once again intrigued despite myself.

“They celebrate in their own domain.” Collith inclined his head and appraised me. “Are you feeling well enough to go this evening?”

There were few times in my life I’d experienced fear, but now was one of them. The prospect of standing among the court again—after they’d all watched my humiliation like it was a Broadway show—was terrifying. But I also didn’t want to remain here, alone in a bed that smelled like him. Stalling, I ran my hand over the fur. It was white and soft. “You want me to accompany you, huh? As what, your plaything?”

“As my mate,” Collith answered firmly. Without waiting for my reaction, he turned away. There was a wooden trunk set against one wall. He lifted the lid and began rummaging. After a few seconds, he faced me again. There was something in his hand. “Fae don’t wear wedding rings, as you’re probably accustomed to. Instead, we wear these.”

He drew closer and opened his fingers. It was a necklace. The chain was long and silver, and dangling at the end of it was a sapphire. “It’s beautiful,” I admitted. I immediately hated myself for the compliment. I imagined stomping the jewel into dust and watching Collith’s eyes widen with horror.

Oblivious to my dark thoughts, Collith’s lips tilted upward in a half-smile. “When we began our lives here, every bloodline was given a handful of unique minerals or gems. Each one was found in the earth, as we worked to expand the passageways, and honed into perfection. My mother wore this.”

His mother. For some reason, it was difficult to imagine Collith having one like everyone else. I’d been thinking of him as someone that had always been, rather than someone with a beginning. The realization that even an Unseelie King had parents was unsettling.

He was still waiting for me to accept. Say you don’t want it. Throw it back in his face, an inner voice urged. Instead, without exactly knowing why, I took the proffered necklace. The silver chain pooled in the center of my palm, glinting like a snake in the sun. “Will I be meeting her?” I asked without looking up.

Collith acted as though he hadn’t heard. He gave his attention to a mirror that stood in a nearby corner. “There are a few rules during the feast,” he said, fussing with a nonexistent piece of lint. “Even the fae adhere to them. No killing, no stealing, and no powers. To do so invokes another tribunal. You will be safe there. Well, safe enough.”

He could evade and ignore all the questions he wanted. I had plenty more. “What happened to them? The first of the bloodlines? Faeries don’t die of old age,” I pressed. If someone had killed these ancient, powerful beings, I wanted to know how they did it.

As though he guessed my motives, Collith’s eyes glinted with amusement. He answered easily enough. “Four of them were in the throne room yesterday. One chooses to stay apart from the intrigues of Court, and only those of his blood are permitted to see him. There was Olorel, who died, as you know. He didn’t have a chance to father any offspring. Three live amongst humans. Another was murdered by his mate decades ago, but his descendants live on. The other ten reside at the Seelie Court, as far as I know.”

“Nineteen living bloodlines, then,” I murmured thoughtfully. So many. Were they all enemies? Or could I find an ally hidden amongst their ranks?

While I attempted to think of leverage I could present to a potential supporter—strategy had never been my strong suit— Collith took something out of a drawer. He turned slightly and I saw there was a crown in his hands. It glinted in the soft light. Like the swords his guards carried, it seemed to be made of glass, all jagged edges and sharp ends. Deadly and beautiful. To my surprise, Collith placed it on his head without any ceremony. I hadn’t forgotten for a second who and what he was, but a flash of memory slammed into me. That cold, elegant stranger seated on his twisted throne.

Collith looked down, utterly unaware of the crown’s effect, and smiled. “Well?” he said. “May I count on your presence tonight?”

This is for you, Damon, I thought. I tucked my hands under the blankets to hide how they trembled. The necklace warmed in the middle of my fist. “I need to get ready,” I said.

The Unseelie King flashed me a rare, full smile, showing his perfect teeth. “Very well. I’ll leave you to it.”

I didn’t smile back. Unperturbed, Collith bowed—the fluid movement revealed how many times he’d done it before. Then he straightened and stepped away, clearly intending to go toward the door. Something made him hesitate, though. The fire crackled as he drew near again. He extended a single finger and touched my cheek. The touch was so brief and simple, but it ignited something in me, however much I tried to deny it. “I shall wait for you at the doors,” he said. His voice was soft, as if he was affected by it, too.

My first instinct was to jerk away. But there was also a small, quiet part of me that wanted to lean in. I hated myself for the weakness. Was it because I felt so alone here, far beneath the ground, surrounded by creatures that enjoyed pain and spectacle? Or was I just attracted to darkness?

Maybe some of my thoughts showed; Collith’s expression was thoughtful as he pulled back a second time. He went to the door, his boots making hardly a sound on the floor. With one hand on the knob, Collith nodded in my direction. I didn’t react. After another moment, the king disappeared into the passageway.

Leaving me alone with the food. I fidgeted and tried not to look at it. I willed myself to fall back asleep and talk to Oliver. But my stomach was moaning again and my mouth had started watering. “Fuck it,” I muttered. Better to be enchanted than dead of starvation. I dropped the necklace on the mattress beside me and grabbed the tray handles. I put it none-too-gently on my lap.

The meat had cooled, but I ripped into it with my teeth like a wolf devouring a carcass. Whoever had sprinkled it with spices had wasted their time; I barely tasted the food as it went down. Between bites I gulped water straight from the chalice. Some of it dripped off the edge of my chin. I swiped at it roughly and kept eating.

I only stopped when there was nothing left. I sat back, painfully full, and sighed. You are so weak, Fortuna. What would my parents think, if they could see me in this moment? Dad may have believed in equality between the species, but it couldn’t be a coincidence he’d married the only other Nightmare alive. He’d also taught us how to fight. Yet here I was, mated to a faerie and permanently scarred by another. They’d warped and broken Damon. If our parents were to meet us now, they probably wouldn’t recognize their own children.

The thought gave me a surge of fresh motivation. I tossed the fur aside and swung my legs to the side. The movement was too quick. For a few seconds, all I could do was hold my pounding head.

Once the room was still again, I straightened. As I’d feared, I was completely naked. The faerie gown was nowhere to be seen, but after a moment, I spotted my backpack in a corner. I rushed to it. Everything was still inside, seemingly untouched. I yanked on a pair of jeans and a wrinkled plaid shirt. It was the first time in my life that clothing felt like armor. Another battle was coming, and the first one had proven that I needed all the help I could get.

Wearing pants made me feel like myself again. Combined with Zara’s recent healing, a spark flickered in my chest. It sent light through the dark place I’d been hiding since the moment that whip came down. I looked around with renewed interest, and the open doorway to my left beckoned. After a brief hesitation, I gave in to the urge.

It was a small space, not much bigger than my bedroom at home. But Collith had used every inch of it. There were even more books along the other three walls. I’d never been much of a reader —not even my ever-patient father could get me to sit still long enough for a single page—but I couldn’t resist the chance to know more about the one I’d married. My fingers trailed along the books’ spines as I walked the perimeter of the room. Soon I realized the collection was in alphabetical order. So he likes things organized.

There was more to Collith’s library than mystery novels. Some of the books were so old, it looked as if a single touch would make them crumble. Many were in a language I didn’t recognize—Enochian, I supposed. There were piles of paper tucked in the spaces above the books. I tugged at one, pulling it free. It was a hand-drawn map of Europe. The ink was fading and the paper was soft from countless handlings. Many of the lines forming countries weren’t accurate.

Or maybe they are, I thought. There was still so much I didn’t know about these creatures. If there could be an entire court beneath the ground, why not entire nations?

“You look well.”

The voice came from behind. I spun around, my hand flying again for a knife that wasn’t there. Laurie stood in the doorway with another gown draped over his arms. It was disturbingly similar to a wedding dress. “I’m not wearing that,” I said flatly. The words belied the way my heart still raced. Casually, I lowered my hand.

Laurie didn’t seem to notice the small movement. He rolled his eyes. “That’s what you said last time. Can we skip the part where I point out all the reasons you should wear it and you realize I’m right?”

“Can we skip the part where I trust anything that comes out of a faerie’s mouth?” I retorted. My hands had become involuntary fists again, and now I saw Laurie’s eyes flick down. He raised his gaze back to mine. Those silvery irises looked darker, like a slate roof after rain. As we stared at each other, I knew we were both thinking of the tribunal. Screams echoed through my memory, and I couldn’t hold back a flinch.

As though he could hear it, too, Laurie’s voice softened. “I’m not your enemy, Fortuna.”

I searched his expression, wishing I could believe him. It was more apparent than ever that I needed help. Not just in getting Damon back, but for my very survival.

The firelight made Laurie’s hair look auburn. Shadows played on the sharp angles of his face and made his skin even smoother. I hadn’t truly looked at him since we first met—I never seemed to notice anyone else when Collith was around. Laurie’s presence wasn’t as commanding as the Unseelie King, but there was still an allure about him. If Collith was a star-filled sky, Laurie was the breeze whispering past as you gazed upward. Beautiful, I thought. Like all the rest of them.

Now I knew what it felt like for others when they looked at my face. To lose sight of everything else and to forget what I’d been feeling just moments ago.

The sensation was infuriating. Scowling, I snatched the gown from his arms. The action revealed a basket in one of Laurie’s hands. He wisely remained silent, and after tossing the thing onto the reading chair, I began to undo my buttons. Just like last time, the faerie turned his back.

Seconds later there came a sudden burst of light from the other room. I froze. “One of the logs shifted,” Laurie said without turning. But my fingers had faltered on their downward progress, and I couldn’t get them to start again. It went against my instincts to take the clothes back off. I would be facing the monsters without any armor. Vulnerable. Weak. Alone.

“Why am I doing this again?”

My soft words felt like a shout in the stillness. I’d been asking myself, mostly, but Laurie answered anyway. He turned his head to the side, as though he were addressing the books. “I’ll admit that I haven’t known you very long, Lady Sworn. Even so, you strike me as the kind who doesn’t like others getting the last word.”

I was about to agree when another flash of memory went off, like the click of a camera shutter. Crying in the dark. Huddling in that dank dungeon. A stream of blood running through the spaces between stones. “I didn’t used to be,” I said faintly. Pain whispered through the freshly-healed marks on my back.

Laurie turned even more. He still didn’t look in my direction, but his pale eyes fixed on a point next to my head. “They tell me it’s a full moon tonight. Isn’t that interesting?” he mused. After a significant pause, Laurie faced forward again.

A full moon. The fae would be stronger … but so would I. An opportunity to save Damon might present itself, and there was no way in hell I’d miss that.

I also really, really wanted to kick a faerie’s ass.

It felt like he’d given me a shot of adrenaline; suddenly I was eager to move. Clad in only a bra and underwear, I turned my attention to the gown. It was strapless. Delicate. The bodice was intricately beaded, but as it traveled downward, the skirt became a material similar to tulle. The white deepened into red, as if someone had dipped the hem in blood. There were two extra pieces, so long they almost touched the floor when I held them aloft. Metal encircled the end of each. Were these sleeves? Thinking to ask Laurie, I glanced toward him.

To my surprise, he was gazing back at me. No, not quite at me; his eyes lingered on my body instead. “You’re looking!” I accused.

Before the words completely left my mouth, Laurie was already facing the wall again. As he spoke, I could only see the back of his head, but somehow I knew he was smirking. “I did no such thing. You’re hardly my type.”

I hurriedly stepped into the dress and pulled it up—at least it was lighter than it looked. My bra straps were at odds with the ensemble, so I bent my arms at an awkward angle to undo the clasps. “Just what is your type?” I asked crossly, tossing the bra onto the cushion, where the dress had been.

“Dull and compliant, of course.”

In spite of myself, a smile tugged at my lips. Hoping Laurie hadn’t seen it, I reached for the two extra pieces and fit the metal rings around my upper arms. They actually did trail along the rug. I took a soundless breath, remembering the last dress and what had happened while I was in it. “Okay, you can look now. Not that my permission stopped you before.”

Ignoring this, Laurie turned and regarded me thoughtfully. A line deepened on the left side of his mouth. There was no trace of admiration or desire in his gaze. It was so expertly hidden, in fact, that I wondered if I’d imagined it. “Perhaps we should skip the makeup this time,” he suggested.

“Why?”

“You’re being presented as the King’s mate. Everyone knows you’re not fae. Why act like you’re trying to blend in? Embrace what you are. Display it like a badge of honor.” Laurie stopped, waiting for my reaction, but I said nothing. After a moment, he nodded at my hair. “May I?”

I nodded. With feather-light fingers, Laurie guided me to the chair. I was overwhelmed with a sense of déjà vu as he began. More images of the Death Bringer assaulted me; I gripped the armrests to keep myself from bolting. Meanwhile, Laurie twisted and teased the long strands. Every movement was deft and painless, making me wonder how many times he’d done this. How long had he been alive and serving the royals? Would there be any point in asking?

Laurie secured whatever he’d created against the back of my neck. He reached for something—probably the basket—and soon a floral fragrance teased my senses. I focused on that rather than the dread piling up against the mental wall I’d built. Full moon. It’s a full moon, I thought over and over.

“What I would do for a curling iron in this hellhole,” I heard Laurie mutter. He circled the chair and knelt in front of the chair. His fingers plucked and arranged. Wisps of hair tickled my cheeks. At last Laurie drew away. I stood and lifted the dress, intending to go to the door.

Suddenly a small, handheld mirror appeared. My own reflection confronted me, and I stared at it. The girl staring back was pale. Her eyes seemed too big for her face. Laurie had put tiny, white flowers throughout her hair. Going a couple days without washing it hadn’t done much to its volume; Mom used to braid it back just so I could see. “I was starting to think faeries didn’t believe in mirrors,” was all I said.

If Laurie was disappointed, he didn’t show it. “For the old ones, they’re a painful reminder,” he answered. He didn’t put down the mirror. “They were once beings of light. To look into a glass and see what they’ve become … it’s unbearable.”

My gaze returned to the thing he held. Dissatisfaction filled the girl’s expression. “I’d like the makeup, please,” she said.

Now Laurie did look displeased, but he said nothing. He simply nodded and, at last, lowered the glass. Moving with the grace of the fae, he bent and rummaged through his basket. The wicker made a sound of protest. Once again, he picked up a small brush and moved the bristles over my skin. For some reason, this particular silence felt stilted, but Laurie either didn’t notice or pretended not to. I resumed the mental chant to block out everything else. Full moon. It’s a full moon.

Some time later, Laurie’s musical voice penetrated through. “Shall I accompany you to the throne room?” he asked. I opened my eyes. He was offering his arm, looking every inch like a prince rather than a slave. It struck me, then, that I had never expected to find kindness in the Unseelie Court. I allowed him to pull me up and, after a loaded pause, I rested my hand in the crook of his elbow. Laurie beamed as though I’d given him a gift, and we walked toward the doorway.

On our way out, I spotted the mirror—it lay abandoned on the floor. This time, I was the one to pick it up. My skirt rustled gently, like whispers in a church.

Gripping the handle with white fingers, I lifted it. To my relief, the girl from before was gone. Someone mysterious and aloof had taken her place. A dusting of white powder coated half of her face, glittering in the faint light. Gold lined her eyes. Her lips had been painted the brightest of reds, matching the hem of her gown. She looked ready for a battle or a crown.

Something was missing, though.

I knew instantly what it was. Without a word, I set the mirror on one of the shelves. In my peripheral vision, I saw Laurie appraising me. He didn’t speak, but his condemnation surrounded us anyway. I walked past him, heading for the bed. There, still nestled in the covers, was the necklace Collith had given me. The jewel flickered like a blue flame. After an instant of hesitation, I placed it around my neck and secured the clasp. It rested against my chest, a spot of cold that didn’t belong.

“Are you ready, my lady?” Laurie asked.

“Of course not,” I answered. But I went to him anyway and accepted his arm a second time.

With a dramatic flourish, Laurie opened the door. He didn’t give me a chance to reconsider; we stepped into the passageway and left safety and warmth behind. I tried not to let myself wonder if I’d be returning. Cool air moved past us, carrying snatches of distant sound. My throat filled with dread. I couldn’t tell Laurie that he was wrong; I wasn’t ashamed of what I was.

I simply wanted a mask to hide my fear.