CHAPTER ELEVEN

I was back in the throne room.

For a few seconds I stood there, blinking in confusion, surrounded by too much movement and color. How did I get here? What happened after I threw up all over Collith? There was no sign of him now, but Nuvian was back, a solemn-faced presence behind me. My head was swimming. I had to get away. Get out. Get air.

Feeling as though I might vomit all over again, I jerked into motion and made a beeline for the closest doorway. Once again, I encountered the two faeries fucking between two tables. Jesus, doesn’t it get old? I thought dizzily, stepping over the male’s bare legs. As I hurried on, the female cried out, a piercing sound that hurt my eardrums. Nuvian kept up without any trouble. If I weren’t so desperate to escape, I would turn around and scream at him to leave me the fuck alone.

The doorway was just a few yards away now, and I was tempted to break into a run. The combination of laughter and music was so loud. It felt like I was in a concert hall. Thankfully I was almost there, so close.

Then, as though it belonged to someone else, I watched my hand reach for a faerie. Instinct, maybe, or just an overwhelming desire to see one of them pay. No, I thought. Don’t do that. Just go.

Time slowed.

Before I could lay a finger on her, the creature turned a pale gaze on me. I froze, not from terror, but from the wave of power. It felt like a great weight pressed down on every part of my body.

“So foolish,” the faerie breathed, studying me with those unnerving eyes. “You are a child among monsters. A worm beneath a flock of birds.”

Her hair was long and dark. A loose-fitting white gown flowed around her. A male stood beside her who was just as eerily beautiful. I knew that most of the faeries here were ancient, but these were the first ones that felt old. I tried to find any evidence of their age—their faces were unlined and their backs straight.

Words stuck in my throat as I tried to give a mocking response. Magic clung to the air around us. In a burst of dismay, I realized the female was doing something. Desperately I searched the crowd around us for Collith or Nuvian. There was no sign of either of them, of course. Now they left me alone.

Her companion’s expression was thoughtful, which was intensified by his long and elegant features. His hair fell to his waist in a straight, brown curtain. A golden band adorned his forehead. Like her, he wore entirely white. His skin almost matched it, and I wondered how long it had been since these two had seen the outside world. “I think you’ve underestimated this one, Arcaena. Power lurks in her depths,” he remarked. His voice was polite and distant, as though they were talking about the selection of food or what everyone was wearing.

“Ah, yes, I see it now. She’s bound.” Arcaena’s red lips tilted up in an amused smile. “Wrapped in chains of her own making. Shall we take them off?”

The male also smiled faintly. The effect was chilling, as though his mouth weren’t accustomed to it. In that instant, I realized they had to be twins. “She would consider it a punishment, I think, rather than a kindness.”

“Perfect,” Arcaena purred. She stepped closer and cupped my cheek, and no matter how much I wanted to recoil, I still couldn’t move. Under her breath, the faerie whispered something in a language I didn’t recognize. After a few seconds of this, she let go and retreated.

At last, I was free of her—my knees buckled. Somehow I managed to remain standing, though I couldn’t stop myself from using a nearby table for support. The faeries watched my face, their eyes gleaming. What did you just do? I tried to snap. But new sensations coursed through me, cackling and roaring like prisoners just let out of their cells. I wanted to find Dad’s knife and jam it into Jassin’s eye. I wanted to get so wasted that I forgot where I was. I wanted to dance in the middle of that crowd and enjoy being in my own skin. I wanted to find Collith and run my hands down his stomach again.

Some small, shrinking part of me clung to rationality. The seconds stretched into minutes as I struggled against the urges tearing my insides apart. Eventually Arcaena murmured something in the male’s ear and they slipped away. Her comment replayed in my mind. She’s bound. Wrapped in chains of her own making. Shall we take them off? My inner battle raged on and I finally realized what the faerie had done.

She’d lowered my inhibitions.

“Fortuna,” someone said.

I know what’s going to happen next, I thought dimly. It would be Damon standing behind me. He was going to hug me and apologize for what Jassin had done. After that, Collith would appear with a glass of water. I’d grab him and drag him off into some dark passageway, where I’d practically fuck him against the wall.

Slowly, feeling as though I were under water, I faced my brother. He wore the exact clothes I remembered, the blue suit with too many frills. “This is a memory,” I said. The voice didn’t sound like my own.

Damon smiled. The shadow in his eyes made it mournful. “Is it?”

“Yes. That faerie messed with my head. She made me forget what she’d done.”

“Then you probably shouldn’t stay here. Wake up.” Damon stepped closer and, instead of embracing me, kissed my forehead. His lips were so chapped that they felt like scabs. He moved away again, retreating into darkness that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “Wake up, Fortuna.”

My eyes flew open.

For the second time in twenty-four hours, I found myself in Collith’s bed.

For the second time in twenty-four hours, someone had taken a dress off me.

This time, though, I wasn’t naked. A quick glance showed that I was wearing what appeared to be yoga pants and a t-shirt. There was also no fire. Instead, a candle burned on the bedside table. The sapphire necklace had been painstakingly placed next to it. The light was small and, because of this, most of the room was obscured in darkness. I knew I wasn’t alone, though—the bond was relaxed. The string wasn’t being pulled taut between us. Soft sounds came from my left, and a moment later, Collith’s unique scent teased my senses.

The sheets whispered as he slid beneath the blankets. The bed was so large that I hardly felt it. For a few seconds, I considered pretending I was still asleep, but it reminded me too much of my last conversation with Oliver. So I rolled over, putting my back to Collith, and stared into the tiny flame. “Tell me about the heavenly fire,” I said.

The sound of my voice felt harsh in the stillness. Collith didn’t seem startled; he’d probably known I was awake. His voice drifted to me, soft as a feather on the air. “Nuvian told me what happened at the feast,” he murmured. “You were manipulated by one of the old ones and he didn’t dare interfere. I’m sorry, Fortuna. I failed you.”

My throat swelled. If we kept talking about that awful faerie and what she’d done to me, I knew I would cry. I never wanted to be that helpless again. “What matters to me, right now, is the fire,” I said flatly. It was an image that had stayed with me—the blue tint on Collith’s skin, the expression of concentration he’d worn, the elegance of his splayed fingers—and now was good as any time to ask.

I felt my mate hesitate. He was probably wondering if he should press the issue. “It’s part of the reason they allow me to sit on the throne,” Collith answered finally. “Some faeries have a … specialty. A certain power or ability unique from others. Usually the ability manifests during puberty, but in rare cases, it can arise through trauma. Arcaena, for instance, has the ability to reduce a creature to its basest instincts. Jassin is an incredible telepath, as I’m sure you’ve learned. He can even plant thoughts, in addition to hearing them.”

“How did yours happen?” I asked, curious in spite of myself. Silence from the other side of the bed. Clearly I’d asked another question he was unwilling to answer. Feeling restless, I rolled onto my back. Shadows moved along the rocky ceiling. Exhaustion tugged at me. I was tempted to succumb, longing to see Oliver, but I worried about talking in my sleep. For a moment I considered returning to my old room, but the prospect of getting there felt daunting after all that had happened. So many passages to get lost in, so many opportunities for a faerie to prey on me again.

“You’re safe here,” Collith said without warning, clearly picking up on my emotions again. “Nuvian is posted outside the door and the other passages are guarded, as well. Also, the location of this room was spelled by a witch, so no one who means harm may enter. Get more sleep if you can.”

His words did nothing to set me at ease; I was still surrounded on all sides by creatures more treacherous and powerful than I’d ever be. “Thanks,” was all I could think to say.

“You’re welcome.”

The seconds ticked past, marked by flickers of the candle and the gentle sound of Collith’s breathing. It was a strange development, sleeping in the same bed as him. I’d shared bedrooms with foster siblings, years ago, but this was different. More … intimate.

The thought sent a myriad of emotions through me, like colors on a carousel. Guilt, confusion, resentment. I went rigid as I tried to stop them. For a few minutes, I was actually successful. But then, in the stillness, flashes of the feast started coming to me. Strange braziers. Food on the flagstones. Sex. Then I saw a faerie with feathers for eyelashes and her syrupy voice filled my head. I wonder why he considered you significant enough to mate, but not to crown?

More riddles and games. I let out a frustrated breath. “Can you at least tell me how the Unseelie Court chooses its queen? Since apparently it isn’t done by marriage, like the rest of the world?”

Once again, Collith was slow to reply. I could feel him looking my way as he spoke. “Obtaining a crown in the Unseelie Court is no easy feat. They won’t simply give it to you; it must be earned. It’s an … arduous process,” he concluded. There was a heaviness in the way he said it.

“How so?”

The mattress shifted as the Unseelie King fully faced me. Wanting to see his expression, I turned onto my side again. We were closer than I realized; Collith’s breath tickled my cheek. His unique, intoxicating scent was everywhere. The flickering candle made his scar look deeper and more painful. “She undergoes a series of trials,” he answered with obvious reluctance. “The first tests your strength. The next tests your cunning. The last tests your devotion. And once you begin the trials, you can’t change your mind or stop halfway through. During my reign, no female has survived all of them.”

“Lovely,” I remarked. I wondered how many had attempted it. For some reason, I didn’t want to know. “What happens if someone does survive?”

One of his bare shoulders lifted in a shrug, as though it was so simple. “Then she’s Queen of the Unseelie Court. There are ancient rituals and traditions to make it official. After that, every bloodline is required to pay fealty. The Guardians pay theirs individually, of course, since their duties are different than a court member’s.”

During all this, Collith seemed more interested in studying me. I stared right back—it was the first time I’d truly been able to. There was no black market to escape, no noisy bar to distract, no bargains to resist. In this faint lighting, the hills and planes of his face were even more pronounced. His full mouth was relaxed, inviting, and I tried not to remember what they felt like. I noticed there were no lines around those sensuous lips. He doesn’t smile often, I thought.

At all once, though, his words registered. “Wait, they pay fealty?” I blurted. “What does that mean?”

Something shifted in Collith, but I wasn’t sure exactly what. Without warning, he sat up, making that lock of hair fall over his eyebrow. The covers fell to reveal his stomach muscles. “It’s a show of their loyalty,” he clarified, seemingly oblivious to how my gaze darted downward. “Usually something small. A bit of symbolism more than anything else. But it’s your right to ask for something more, such as a gift or a token.”

His words echoed through me. A gift or a token. I forgot about my discomfort as an idea began to form. Suddenly very, very invested in our conversation, I propped my head up and met Collith’s gaze. “Does it have to be an object? Or could it be … a person?”

“Yes.” Collith’s expression was neutral; he’d probably guessed where my mind was going. I was about to demand why he hadn’t told me this before when he added, “But there’s something else you should know. One of the rituals during the coronation might make you reconsider. After it’s completed, in the same way you and I are bound, so you would be bound to them.”

“Them?”

He nodded, a terse movement. His mouth had flattened into a thin line. “Every single faerie that resides in this court.”

Now I was the one to fall silent.

It was difficult to imagine. Even now, in a moment without strife or chaos, I could feel the bond between me and Collith. It wasn’t painful, but I still hadn’t gotten used to it. The sensation was like having an extra finger. Every time you looked down at it, the sight was startling. Strange. To have a bond with all the creatures of the Unseelie Court? My insides quaked at the thought.

An instant later, shame hit me. Damon would do it, if I were the one needing to be saved. He wouldn’t even hesitate. But I’d already married a faerie and had the flesh taken from my back. If I did this … it could very well mean my sanity. Wasn’t there a limit to the sacrifices? Was there any line I wouldn’t cross for someone who didn’t want to be saved?

Of course I already knew the answer. No. There were no limits to what I’d do for my brother’s freedom.

Anguish ripped through me. My new future loomed and it was full of shackles, dirt, and darkness. Seeking some kind of comfort, or just the slightest reassurance, I lifted my gaze to Collith’s again. “Did you go through these trials?”

A muscle moved in his jaw. He looked straight ahead, seeing something I couldn’t. “I claimed my crown by other means,” was all he said.

“We’re supposed to be partners, right?” I challenged, exasperated at yet another avoidance. “I don’t need to know everything, Collith. But maybe if you didn’t have so many secrets, my blood wouldn’t be all over the throne room floor right now.”

His nostrils flared. He faced me again. His eyes looked nearly black in the guttering light. “Fine. I murdered the previous king. That, dear wife, is how I began my noble reign.”

The words were so blunt, so flat, that it took a moment to comprehend them. I’d known Collith was powerful, but I had yet to see any sort of violence from him. Apparently I’d unwittingly started to believe he was different from the rest of his kind. Now I tried to picture it. Blood on his hands, a body at his feet. Surprisingly, it was an image that didn’t seem like it could ever be reality.

I refocused on the present—there was a surge of fresh questions rushing up inside me—and realized I was staring at Collith’s fingers. Normally they were splayed, relaxed, but at some point during our conversation they had clenched in his lap. I resisted the urge to reach over and uncurl them.

Collith watched me absorb the truth he’d just flung my way. Then he heaved a sigh, and in that single sound, I heard decades’ worth of pain. “The trials are designed to break you, Fortuna,” he said. “The chair beside me remains empty for good reason.”

For the first time since we’d met, I didn’t doubt the sincerity in his voice. I wasn’t sure why, since he’d proven to be a good liar. Something about the sadness in his eyes—the same sadness that lived in mine.

“Why?” I asked finally. Collith frowned. A faint sense of surprise vibrated down our bond. He hadn’t expected me to give him a chance to explain. When he didn’t answer, I kept going, refusing to let him evade yet another question. “Why did you kill him? There must’ve been a motive.”

At this, Collith quirked a dark brow. “Maybe I just liked it. Maybe I just wanted the power.”

If he had said that to me even a few hours earlier, I would’ve believed him. It was easy to think the worst of a faerie. But here, in this room and in this bed, everything was quiet and still. The agony in my back had faded. I had a spark of hope that my brother would survive this. And the bond, lying between us like a vein or a telephone line, continued emanating gentle sensations. Despite his harsh words and bemused expression, Collith regretted what he’d done.

“We have a lifetime ahead of us,” I reminded him, raising my eyebrows right back in a silent challenge. I laid back down, making the bed frame creak. “Sooner or later, I’ll learn the truth.”

Collith didn’t respond. Following suit, he stretched out beside me. This time he rested on his stomach, both of his hands tucked beneath the pillow. His biceps flexed, sharp and defined, like a paper cutout. The muscles in his back gleamed. Those long, jagged scars somehow seemed part of it, belonging on his skin like the small details in a distant horizon. So beautiful, I thought. Too beautiful.

As he got settled, Collith kept his face turned toward mine, making it all too easy for him to notice the direction of my focus. “I think you’re beautiful, too,” he murmured.

My gaze snapped back to his. When I realized I’d been caught, my cheeks caught on fire. Collith didn’t smile, but his eyes smoldered in response to what they saw in mine. “Are you going to try for the crown?” he asked, deliberately changing the subject. I was so relieved I almost sagged; I wasn’t ready to openly acknowledge the attraction hovering around us.

His question was a welcome distraction. An answer immediately rose to my lips, but at the last second, I wavered. If what Collith said was true and I began these trials, there was no going back. The fae would own me, body and soul. Fear lodged within my chest, spreading wide like some black, winged creature. Just as I started to tell Collith I would find another way, I felt Oliver tucking a curl of hair behind my ear. His voice drifted through me, a lullaby in the darkness. Sometimes it’s not about being stronger. It’s about being smarter.

There was no other way and I knew it. They’d whipped me. They’d used magic on me. Even on a full moon, they were stronger. I couldn’t beat them as a Nightmare.

But maybe I could as a queen.

In my mind, I heard a door clicking shut. Closing on any chance at happiness, on separating myself from this marriage, on the hope that my brother and I could be a family again. “Yes,” I answered, squeezing my eyes shut in a futile attempt to hide the sorrow crashing over me. He could feel it through the bond, anyway. Nothing was private anymore. “I have to. For Damon.”

The candlewick popped, brightened, and faded. It was the only sound in the room. Collith didn’t try to touch me or offer pretty lies. “Then we’ll make the announcement in the morning. If you’re certain this is truly what you want to do,” he said.

His words burrowed into my heart like claws. What I want? Since when do you care about what I want? I nearly spat. It was late, though, and I needed to see Oliver. Fighting with Collith wasn’t worth it. Instead, I twisted around in the sheets and put my back to him. Suddenly it didn’t matter anymore whether he overheard something—I focused on the candle and waited for its flame to lull me to sleep. I’m coming, Ollie. Slowly, my anger simmered and cooled.

Just when the edges of everything were going dark, Collith cleared his throat. The sound was oddly uncertain. “Is it my turn, then?” he ventured.

So close. I frowned in annoyance, keeping my eyes closed. “Your turn for what?”

“To ask a question.”

“I’m tired, Your Majesty.”

“Very well. I hope you have lovely dreams, Fortuna.”

But now I was intrigued. I shifted and glared up at the ceiling, more irritated at myself than him. “What do you want to know?”

I could feel the weight of Collith’s focus. His voice, already soft and soothing, became even gentler. Despite this, I wasn’t prepared when he asked, “What happened to your parents?”

The words were a dash of cold water. I stiffened, knowing what was coming, but struggling against it anyway. Unbidden, inevitable, the images assaulted me. A blood-flecked chin. Glassy, vacant eyes. Curled fingers. It felt like there was a hand wrapped around my heart, squeezing tighter and tighter. I didn’t look at Collith as I replied, “What makes you think anything did?”

“Regina mentioned something,” he admitted.

Fucking Regina. I was going to spit in her drink next time I saw her. If I saw her. “Figures,” I muttered. My muscles were still locked into place. A lifetime ago, the school counselor tried to teach me calming techniques. Something about breathing …

“You also talk in your sleep.”

Just as I suspected. He hadn’t thought to tell me, of course. But I wasn’t able to muster any indignation; Collith’s question still held me down, breathed tauntingly in my face. I stared upward so hard it felt like the lines in the ceiling would be permanently committed to memory. I hadn’t told this story in a long, long time. Would I be able to without shattering?

Mom and Dad’s faces swam before me. It had been years since that night and their features had gotten fuzzy. Back home, their pictures were in almost every room. It was my desperate attempt to cling, to remind, to reassure. We haven’t forgotten you, I longed to say. Never.

For them. I’d relive it for them.

Collith had remained silent, compassion radiating down the bond. That made it worse, somehow. When I spoke, the words were distant and matter-of-fact. “No one knows what happened, exactly,” I began. Everything came back in a rush, painfully vivid, as though it all happened yesterday. Rain pattering against the roof. Wind shaking the tree branches outside my window. Me awakening on sweat-dampened sheets. “I was eight years old. It was just another night—in the morning we’d go to school. Dad was a therapist and Mom was a professor. We always went to bed early, because everyone had to get up at the crack of dawn.”

I was babbling. Realizing this, I stopped. My hands clenched where they gripped the blanket. Just as Collith’s had earlier, I noted faintly.

“It sounds like a beautiful life,” he said softly.

“It was.” I blinked rapidly. Now that I’d started, need filled me like a balloon. I had to finish. “That night, I had a bad dream. I think that’s why I didn’t wake up at first. But eventually I did; there were noises coming from another part of the house. For some reason, I didn’t want to move. Maybe some part of me knew. It took everything I had to stand.”

Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth. That’s what the counselor had said. I remembered now.

“I found Mom in the hallway. It was obvious that she was dead so I kept going. It wasn’t because I hoped Dad had survived, though. Maybe I just had to see for myself. There was this … smell. God, this awful smell. Like old pennies. Dad was still in their room. There was no chance to hold his hand; he was already dead. He’d been killed right in the bed, actually. Probably didn’t even have a chance to open his eyes before it got him.”

“It?” Collith repeated. His voice seemed to come from a vast distance.

I swallowed. My mouth was so dry. “No way a human did that. In the end, the police concluded an animal must’ve gotten in.”

“But you don’t believe them.”

“No. I never did. Whatever it was, I think it was still in the house when I found the bodies. I remember a shadow …” More images flashed. Had it been standing in the hallway, staring at me? A silhouette against the window? The shape in my memory was unnatural. Monstrous. With bright, red eyes …

“Fortuna? Are you all right?”

Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth. I shook myself. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore, okay?”

“Okay,” Collith said instantly. Quiet descended on us, disturbed only by the sputtering of the dying candle, and I focused on banishing the memories. I tried to think of Damon, or the upcoming trials, or how I’d apologize to Bea and Cyrus when I got back. Nothing worked. Panic hurtled up my throat, making it difficult to breathe.

After another moment or two, Collith shifted. The movement seemed unthinking, casual, as if he were only trying to get more comfortable. I didn’t miss that it brought him closer, though. “Where did you go after that? A relative?” he asked next.

It was like he’d thrown me a lifejacket—the gruesome memories made way for different ones. Still painful, but the sort of pain that was manageable, like a toothache or a paper cut. “We didn’t have any relatives,” I answered haltingly. My heart rate started to slow. “None that we knew about, anyway. Damon and I bounced around in foster homes for a while. Eventually we settled with a nice couple and they raised us until I turned eighteen. Dave and Maureen. I try to visit them every so often. Maureen calls once in a while.” Those calls had been occurring less and less, though. To Maureen, I was probably just a painful reminder of the child she’d lost. The child she’d truly loved … Damon. Who had gone missing on my watch.

“Why did you leave?” There was no judgement in Collith’s expression; just curiosity. I told myself that’s why I was telling him all this.

At some point, I’d turned toward him again. We lay in the middle of that gigantic bed, facing each other but not quite touching. He was close enough that I would just have to tip my head forward to bring it against his. His scent, subtle and intoxicating, wrapped around me. Why did he have to smell so good?

Damn it. What had he asked again? Right, yes, why did I leave Dave and Maureen. I thought about this longer than I had with the other questions. It was a relief, having something to focus on. “I guess it was because I’d never felt … right. Like I belonged. Damon was so much better than I was at blending in. He had his girlfriend, the soccer team, drama club. He wanted to go to University of Colorado and major in Psychology, like our dad.

“I mean, it’s not like I didn’t have friends or that Dave and Maureen weren’t good parents. But it was never a question of whether I’d go—it was when. That week, once I was legally an adult, I knew it was time. I told Damon I was leaving. I didn’t even invite him to come, since I’d never ask him to leave everything behind. But when I went to put my stuff in that shitty little car, he was there, sitting in the passenger seat. ‘Don’t bother,’ he said. ‘I’m going with you. We made a promise, remember?’ So I shut my mouth and we just drove.”

That was the happiest I’d been since our parents’ deaths. I could still feel that sense of freedom. Music blaring from the speakers, wind combing through my hair. There was no one staring at me, seeing the face they wanted. There were no flavors on my tongue after I’d accidentally brushed up against someone in the hallway at school. Damon was there, a faint smile on his lips, looking more like our father every day.

I would never be that happy again.

The thought yanked me back to the present. I met Collith’s gaze, knowing the bitterness I felt showed in mine. “We’d only been on the road a few hours when I stopped in Granby for gas. There was a bar with its door open. We could smell burgers, and Damon was hungry, so we went in. That’s when I met Bea.”

“You love her very much,” Collith commented. I must’ve given him a look, because he shrugged a shoulder. “I could hear it in your voice.”

He wasn’t wrong. It had taken me by surprise, my love for Bea. She felt more like a parent than my foster mother.

Growing up, Maureen had tried so hard. She pressured me to go to school dances, to go on a date with that nice boy from home room, to go shopping with her. All normal things that any daughter should want to do. I couldn’t tell her how exhausting it was to be around the other kids. Their fears were even more potent than those of an adult, because the young weren’t able to combat their phobias with logic or denial, a skill that was honed with age. Over time, it seemed like Maureen looked at me with frustration and exasperation more than anything else. Now, after so much time and distance, I knew it had been hurt and rejection.

But Bea hadn’t tried to understand or shape me. She didn’t ask questions. She observed with those sharp eyes of hers and just … accepted. The relationship with her was easy. Nice.

Collith was waiting for my response. Realizing this, I made a vague gesture. “There aren’t a lot of—”

In that instant, the candle gasped and went out, shrouding Collith’s room in darkness. I jumped and lost my train of thought. I stared up at nothing and saw myself as I’d been just a few years ago. Not much had changed, really, except for one thing. A small piece of myself that had fallen away, unnoticed by anyone but me. Sometimes I looked back at it. I hadn’t told anyone it happened, hadn’t allowed the pain to show.

Maybe that’s why I did now … and to a faerie, no less. “I wanted to be a veterinarian,” I murmured to the darkness. “Ever since I was little. Animals have always been peaceful to be around—their fears are so simple that touching them doesn’t affect me. No images in my head, no horrible taste in my mouth. Helping something helpless, passing my days so simply and quietly? Yeah, I could live like that.”

The faerie in question didn’t laugh or talk about impossibilities. Instead, he replied softly, “It’s not too late, you know.”

I shook my head. “Going to school would mean leaving everyone. They’re the only family I have.”

“That’s not true.”

But I wasn’t interested in arguing; I’d let go of that dream a long time ago. Once again we both lay there in utter silence, and this time, neither of us spoke. It was definitely my turn to ask a question—I’d lost count of how many he had asked—but suddenly it was difficult to form words. My eyelids felt weighted.

Once more, unconsciousness loomed. Collith moved again, just the slightest adjustment, and his forehead pressed against mine. The sudden contact should have been startling. This creature had become part of me, though. Truthfully, I’d known he was going to do it an instant beforehand.

I considered moving away but was strangely reluctant to follow through on it. Don’t be pathetic, I told myself. In an effort to feel that earlier hatred for Collith, I recalled the cold figure he’d been, sitting on that throne as the cat o’ nine tails came down. It worked, but only slightly. Hatred was overpowered by exhaustion and … something else.

It felt good to touch someone. I’d denied myself such a simple pleasure for so long. Usually, even the most fleeting of contacts brought terrifying images and unpleasant flavors. With Collith, there was only his cool skin and heady scent. Just this once. It doesn’t mean anything, I thought. I had no idea who I was reassuring.

“Good night, Fortuna,” Collith said. His voice was drowsy.

“Good night,” I murmured back. Within minutes, the faerie’s deep breathing told me that he was asleep. The warmth touched my cheek, again and again, oddly comforting. My own eyes drifted shut.

I would never love the Unseelie King. But maybe I didn’t have to hate him, either.