That night, Zoey could not sleep because she kept thinking about the world in which she now lived, where humans were considered nothing. Their thoughts and feelings did not matter and were erased as easily as writing on a chalkboard. It was as if they were puppets, and the Fata were pulling their strings. She could not understand how the Fata didn’t feel guilty for abusing these humans and keeping them here. Surely, these were all people who had families who missed them, like Bree, and how she longed for her long-lost husband to come home.
Zoey doubted the Fata put in the effort to go to the families and compel them to forget their loved ones. Caynin had only done that for Zoey because she was worried about her family and because of their connection, friendship. Although she did not like compulsion, she was grateful her family did not miss her or worry about her.
But she missed them. She missed the smell of waffles in their kitchen, although the food here was much better. She missed sleeping next to her sister. She missed laughing with her dad and having long talks with her mom. She would never have any of those things again.
And she had only herself to blame. She should not have returned to the forest. She should never have touched that stupid tree. Her life would have been so different if she had listened to Caynin and stayed away.
Zoey could not help but hope for a way around the curse. Eric had promised he would investigate, and she looked forward to meeting with him again. She dreaded that he would tell her he could not help, that the curse was unbreakable. If so, she would cut ties with him. He couldn’t keep returning to the forest; it was too dangerous. Yes, he was a Slaerie, and could fight, but she would never be able to forgive herself if something bad happened to him.
Then there were the hallucinations she had seen thanks to the Black Illusion – how much it had hurt when Eric had told her that he did not love her. He had said the exact opposite in reality – he had told her he loved her. And she loved him…like a brother. She loved him like a brother.
She hadn’t realized that until she had met Caynin. Eric didn’t intrigue her the way Caynin did. She didn’t stare at him, mesmerized, like she stared at Caynin. She didn’t crave Eric the way she did Caynin. Her fantasies about Eric had involved kissing and cuddling, they were innocent, and couldn’t be compared to the hot, breathless fantasies she had about Caynin.
Maybe Zoey was a fool after all, to want something so dangerous. But it was thrilling to want someone so deadly, so different, and know that he wanted her, too. So many gorgeous Fata females inhabited the castle, and yet Caynin liked her.
Despite the obvious lust, Zoey also liked him. His moods made him unpredictable which kept things exciting. But he also seemed to really care about her and try to make her life here more comfortable. So, how could he, such a good prince, enslave humans?
Zoey finally fell asleep, but she did not sleep peacefully. She woke several times from dreams in which Tarragon tried to kill her. Zoey got up early and went to the arena to practice sword fighting; after a while, Caynin joined her, and they did not discuss the previous night.
Every morning, before breakfast, she and Caynin would train. She was getting stronger and more agile, but she was still no match for the prince. She never would be.
The queen kept to herself, and Zoey hardly ever saw her. Tarragon occasionally enjoyed dinner with them and told one war story after the other. Zoey pretended to listen, but most of the time, she got lost inside her own head. She was never fully comfortable around Tarragon; being in his presence made her nervous. He would not harm her while she was under Caynin’s protection, but still.
As the days went by, Zoey searched for Bella to no avail and could only conclude that Bella did not want to be found. Maybe Tarragon would punish her if he knew she traveled to the human lands.
One of the many reasons why she disliked Tarragon was the way he disrespected his servants. He yelled at them, cursed at them, and Zoey even saw him hitting one once. She felt as if this ticking time bomb was going to explode any day and kill as many living things as he possibly could.
Tarragon had plenty of human slaves – all of them compelled to do his bidding. After Zoey figured out that Caynin also had slaves, he did not bother hiding them from her anymore. Zombie-like humans scrubbed the halls, polished armor, and cooked. Did these people ever sleep or get tired? She tried talking to them several times, but they never responded or listened to her. It was as if they did not know she was there.
Luckily, Caynin never sent them to clean her room. Fleur came every day, and Zoey appreciated it. To avoid arguments, she still left her room when Fleur was there.
“This is so horrible,” Zoey mumbled one day when a human was scrubbing the floor by her room. The human’s coat was dirty, and her hands were red and dry. Her eyes were bloodshot, her lips cracked. Yet, she cleaned the place as if she had too much energy. She must have had no idea that she was exhausted. Under the compulsion, she would work and work until she dropped dead.
Fleur was inside her room and must have heard her speak. “Do you still want to be a part of this world?”
Zoey left without answering the question. The Everwhite Kingdom was beautiful, magical, and mysterious. It had so many wonderful things, and its beauty was otherworldly, but only the strong survived here. A good future for humans did not exist.
Zoey could not help but feel guilty about her love for the kingdom. She should hate it, and she should hate what the Fata did to humans. She should despise these creatures, but she did not. And above all, she tried her best to hate Caynin. He had hidden the slaves from her. He was dishonest and dangerous. So why did she laugh at his jokes? Why did she always sit next to him at the table? Why did she feel so safe in his presence?
Zoey tried her best not to think about Caynin, his soft pink lips that hadn’t brushed against hers since the night of the feast. She tried not to think about his crystal blue eyes that could almost see through her. She tried not to think about his hands, and how alive she felt when they had been on her.
It was when Zoey was alone in her bed, with nothing to do, that her thoughts drifted to Caynin. It was on one of these nights that a brutal scream interrupted her daydreaming. Zoey had lived here for a little over a month now, and she had never heard anyone scream before. The kingdom was safe, mostly.
Zoey did not bother putting on proper clothes; she rushed out of her room in her nightgown. Zoey didn’t think of herself as a hero, but she rushed in the direction of the scream anyway.
Zoey slowed her pace when she realized the scream had come from the room next to Kismet’s. The door was already open, so she entered, slowly and carefully, as if she was expecting someone to attack her. No one did. She stopped when she saw Delia on the ground, lying on her back with her eyes sunk into her skull and her hair gray. Whatever magic had kept her young was gone. Her skin was dull, cracked, and wrinkly like cement. Zoey shuddered. Delia was dead.
It was Kismet who had screamed. She was on her knees, sitting next to her friend. She must have thought that Delia would be by her side forever. No one would have been able to guess that Delia would be murdered in her own room, in the Everwhite Castle. Who could have done this?
Zoey spun around when she heard someone behind her. She was expecting to find a bloodthirsty Fata, but instead she looked into familiar blue eyes. Caynin must have heard the screams and come to help. Behind him was Rane, his face grim.
She moved out of the way so that they could see Delia’s body. Caynin knelt next to her, emotionless. Delia’s corpse looked like Nyla’s had, and Zoey assumed the other had been the same. That suggested the Fata who had killed Nyla was the same one who had killed Delia.
“Rane, get her out of here,” Caynin said without looking away from Delia.
Zoey expected Rane to take her arm and escort her out, but instead he went for Kismet, who hesitantly followed him outside. Zoey despised Kismet, and she would never forgive her for leaving the Black Illusion in her room and making her look like a fool. Still, Zoey took no pleasure from seeing Kismet suffer such a loss. When Kismet and Rane were out of the room, Zoey put a gentle hand on Caynin’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
He stood there, tense, with eyes that seemed to have aged twenty years, and she was glad he did not push her away. She knew how much this bothered him. Did he feel powerless? This was the third body they had found, and he was no closer to catching the killer.
Caynin looked toward the door and withdrew from her touch, and Zoey knew he had heard something that she could not. Moments later, Tarragon appeared. Wordlessly, he entered the room, his sword at his side. He looked at Delia but didn’t seem horrified – a reminder that he had seen much death in his life.
“Do you know what did this?” he asked Caynin.
Caynin shook his head. “The other bodies looked the same – as if the life was sucked out of them.”
“That’s because it was,” Tarragon said.
Zoey gaped at him. “Are you saying you know who did this?”
Tarragon ignored her and looked at Caynin. “This was done by a Prenumbra.”
For a moment, Zoey wondered if she had heard him right. Surely, he was mistaken. There were no Prenumbras on Earth, only on Erken. Tarragon had seen to that when he closed the door seventeen years ago.
“I’ve seen Fata who were killed by Prenumbras,” Caynin reminded him. “Their bodies looked much worse.”
“That is because those Prenumbras took all of their energy,” Tarragon explained. “In this case, the Prenumbra only took most of it. He left enough magic in her so that her corpse would look relatively normal.”
“Why would he do that?” Caynin asked.
“To cover his tracks,” Zoey realized. “This way, he was hoping that you wouldn’t suspect him of murder. You would think the murder is a Slaerie or fellow Fata.”
Tarragon gaped at her in astonishment. She was all too aware that he looked down on her and considered her less intelligent.
“But this does not make sense,” Caynin said. “We shut the door. For seventeen years there haven’t been any Prenumbras.”
Tarragon studied the body. “We should dispose of her before anyone else sees.”
Zoey hated the way he spoke. ‘Dispose of’ – it sounded so crude. Delia’s body should be buried and treated with respect. Tarragon did not respect the living. She doubted he respected the dead.
“We will not tell anyone about the Prenumbras,” Caynin said. “There is no need to make everyone panic.”
But there was reason to panic. If the Prenumbras had found another portal, that meant more would be coming soon. The Egress Key was broken, so they had no way of closing the portal. They also didn’t have a way to fight or kill the Prenumbras – which was why they had fled to Earth instead of fighting on Erken.
“You should leave,” Caynin told her. “You don’t want to watch us remove the body.”
She nodded. Seeing a Fata dead still turned her stomach, and Caynin did not need to ask her twice. She left without a backward glance, but instead of returning to her room, she went to Caynin’s. She would wait for him there. He did not show it, but he would need some comfort.
As she walked, she passed the queen’s room and wondered what the queen would do about the Prenumbras. What could she do?
Zoey reached Caynin’s room’s door, and from here she had a view of Rane’s. She watched as the door opened and Kismet emerged, her face grim. Before she could leave, a hand closed around her arm and gently pulled her back.
Quietly, Zoey went closer. Surely, Rane had brought her to his room for comfort, and there was nothing wrong with that. After all, her best friend had just died. But as Zoey looked from Rane to Kismet, she decided his expression was not that of a worried friend. He took a step backward, and she followed him into the room, where they thought no one would see them.
Zoey watched as Rane and Kismet started kissing each other passionately.