When she remembered that this was where Serafina had grown up, Araya could almost forgive her optimism. There was still hope here, even if it was tattered at the edges.
But Serafina’s father had died on these streets, murdered for nothing more than daring to exist as a half-fae. Safety was never a guarantee—not for fae.
“That’s different,” Serafina murmured, breaking the silence as they turned onto their street.
Araya followed her gaze and froze. The carriage stood waiting outside their little house, the Arcanum’s Eye gleaming gold on the door against the sleek black finish, a silent reminder of the power it represented.
Jaxon leaned casually against it, his dark eyes glittering as they swept over her. A smirk curved his lips, sharp and knowing.
“Adept Serafina Hart,” Jaxon said smoothly, though his attention never wavered from Araya. “Happy Ascendancy.”
“Jaxon,” Serafina replied, inclining her head just enough to be polite before brushing past him to unlock the door.
Araya swallowed. Her throat was dry. “I need two minutes to change,” she said quickly, her gaze darting between Jaxon and the carriage. “Where are we going?”
Jaxon grinned, running his tongue over the blunt edge of his front teeth. “You’ll see,” he said. “Wear something nice.”
It wasn’t an answer—not really. Araya hesitated.
“Are you sure?” she asked, fingers worrying the frayed edge of her cloak. “It’s Dominion Day.”
Tomorrow, Serafina’s clinic would be full of fae females—bruised, broken—whispering through swollen lips about the guards who had let their drunken attackers go free. The ones who had laughed. Or worse—joined in.
Araya had seen it before—had scrubbed bloodstains from clinic floors, had watched too many fae swallow back sobs as their futures were decided by someone else.
Jaxon’s low laugh curled around her like smoke—thick andsuffocating. He stepped closer, invading her space. “I was the one who reminded you, Starling.”
Her breath caught. Gods, he said it so easily—like nothing had changed. Like he still believed she belonged to him. And worst of all, part of her wanted to believe it too.
His fingers grazed her temple, sliding down to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and tracing the scarred edge with a featherlight touch.
“Wear your hair down tonight. Show your ears—whatever you want.” He smiled down at her, reading the objection on her face before she could voice it. “Don’t worry, you’ll be perfectly safe with me.”
Safe. The word sent a chill down her spine. She should say no—it was madness to flaunt her fae features tonight of all nights. But the rejection lodged in her throat, tightening like the collar the Arcanum would lock around her neck if she even considered running from them.
She couldn’t be a breeder. She needed Jaxon’s help.
“Two minutes,” she repeated, her voice steady despite the unease clawing at her chest.
Jaxon’s smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened—lazy and unshaken.
“I’ll wait.”
Chapter
Two
Araya stoodin front of her battered wardrobe, staring at her reflection in the cloudy mirror. Her meager assortment of dresses hung in a limp, somber line, picked for function rather than style. She ran her fingers over the frayed edges of a pale blue dress, pulling it free. Once, it might have been considered elegant. Now, after countless mendings and adjustments, it looked as tired as she felt.
She sighed, tossing the dress onto the growing pile of rejected options on her neat, narrow bed. Everything she owned felt wrong for this—too plain and too worn. There just weren’t many occasions when a halfblood needed anicedress. It wasn’t every day she had to beg the man who left her to risk his status to help her keep what little freedom she had left.
Araya reached for her braid, unwinding the ribbon at the end and slowly unraveling it. Deep red waves cascaded over her shoulders, fading into violet as they spilled down her back. She stared at her reflection, her silver eyes stark against the riot of color framing her face. Her stomach churned at the idea of stepping outside like this, on Dominion Day, no less. But Jaxon had told her to wear it down…he’d always loved her hair.
She gathered her hair in her hands, twisting it back into a loose knot at the nape of her neck. It wasn’t exactly what Jaxon had requested, but it was more than her usual braid. A compromise…Jaxon had never been good at those. Araya picked up a hairpin, biting her lip as she slid it into place.
“You should wear it down,” Serafina said softly from the doorway.
Araya turned, startled by the sadness in Serafina’s voice. But her questions caught in her throat when she saw the shimmering silver gown draped across Serafina’s arms.
