“They need me now!”
“Once, I’m sure, it’s safe to return.”
“It’s my home!”
Alivar narrows his eyes. “Well aware, Princess. Anyway, you can’t leave without saying goodbye to Felix. He would be devastated.”
With a sigh, I roll my eyes. The damn house cat. Who would have ever guessed that the Seelie Prince, of all people, had a secret cabin hidden away in the midst of the frozen Winter Court? And that it's occupied by a friendly pet cat, no less? The idea of such a regal figure caring for something as ordinary as a house cat is almost laughable, yet here I am, caught up in this strange reality.
Alivar watches me closely, his expression a mixture of patience and mild amusement as he holds out his hand to me again. It'sclear he’s waiting for me to make a decision, and despite my irritation, I know I don’t really have a choice. With a resigned breath, I slowly reach out and slip my hand into his, feeling the familiar hum of magic ghosting over my skin. It’s a sensation that sends a shiver down my spine, both comforting and unsettling at the same time.
Just as his hand tightens around mine the air shifts, and suddenly, a portal appears beneath us. It’s as if the ground drops out from under me, and before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, the world tilts on its axis. A rush of adrenaline surges through me, my heart pounding in my chest as the reality of the situation hits me like a ton of bricks.
We’re falling.
The sensation of freefall grips me, the cold wind whipping past my face as we plunge into the unknown. My stomach lurches, and I can’t stop the scream that rips from my throat, carried away by the howling wind. The world around me blurs into a dizzying swirl of colors and shapes, the icy air stinging my skin as we plummet through the portal.
Time seems to stretch and compress all at once, the fall both endless and instantaneous. My hand tightens around Alivar’s, the only solid thing in a world turned upside down. His grip is steady, reassuring even, but it does little to calm the wild thrum of fear coursing through me.
Finally, with a jarring thud, we land on solid ground, the sudden stop knocking the breath from my lungs. I stumble, my legs wobbling beneath me as I try to regain my balance. The world spins for a moment longer before finally coming to a halt, leaving me breathless and disoriented.
As I catch my breath, I glance around, taking in the cabin.
Sitting calmly by the fire is Alivar, Felix the cat perched on the arm of the chair by his side. Its black fur gleams strangely in the light, and it regards me with a look of quiet amusement, as if it knows more than it lets on.
Chapter two
Maxon
Irelease a groan as I shift uncomfortably on the cold, merciless stone floor. The length of chain between my ankles and wrists is only about a foot, leaving me with barely enough room to move. The one around my neck, anchoring me to the wall, is even shorter, pulling tight with every slight movement. Each time I try to adjust my position, the shackles constrict further, biting into my skin and forcing me into painful submission. The only relief comes when I manage to stay completely still, my back pressed against the rough wall—a near-impossible task given the so-called accommodations.
I look down at the shackles encasing my wrists and see dried blood crusted on my skin. These aren’t ordinary shackles like the iron ones most would use for the fae. They're made from wyvern bones, ancient and powerful, rendering all of my magic utterly useless.
I can feel the cold, dead weight of them around my wrists, ankles, and neck, sapping the strength I would normally draw from within.
It’s as if they’ve cut me off from a vital part of myself, leaving me hollow and helpless.
Leave it to the fucking Shadoweaver to have the perfect cell waiting for me. I shouldn’t be surprised really—this is exactly the kind of meticulous cruelty he’s known for. But I can’t help the bitter thoughts that flood my mind as I tug futilely at the chains. Where in the world did he even find wyvern bones? The creatures have been extinct for centuries, their remains scattered and nearly impossible to come by. Yet here I am, bound by the very essence of one, trapped in a cell that feels more like a grave.
My body throbs with pain, every muscle and joint screaming from the strain of being unable to move for so long. The stone beneath me offers no comfort, and the relentless thirst gnaws at the edges of my sanity, intensifying the disorientation that has been creeping in since the moment I was chained here. It’s only been two days but it feels like a lifetime. The blood loss and the wyvern bones draining my magic have left me in a state of desperate need, my body teetering on the brink of collapse.
I’ve faced countless dangers before, but this . . . this is different. The physical agony is one thing, but the knowledge that I’m slowly being drained, not just of blood but of my very essence, is a terror all in itself. My thoughts keep drifting, struggling to stay coherent, but one pressing concern cuts through the haze; I have yet to discuss a crucial matter with Everly.
The bond between us is new, fragile yet powerful. Once mated, I will need to feed from her during every new moon—a necessity for my kind, one that’s as much about maintainingmy strength as it is about deepening our connection. But, I’m uncertain if druids share the same characteristics as the high fae in this regard. Will she, too, begin to feel the effects of our separation? Will the bond pull at her, making her feel the same gnawing emptiness that’s growing within me?
Movement in my periphery has me tensing. A thick mass of shadows forms in the open archway, two crimson eyes staring at me from in its depths. I tip my head back against the stone and close my eyes.
“You look like shit,” the mass hisses, its voice slithering over the stone walls like a cold, unfeeling wind.
I force my eyes open to thin slits, my throat dry as sandpaper. “Back for more?” The rasped words grate against the rawness in my throat.
The shadowy form slowly solidifies, transforming into the demon I’ve come to loathe. In the flickering torchlight, her black hair gleams like polished onyx, a stark contrast to the dim, filthy surroundings. Surprisingly, her white silk kimono, adorned with delicate red flowers, remains immaculate—untouched by the blood that should stain it. That’s new. Her eyes, a striking crimson red, gleam with a sinister light, betraying the twisted satisfaction she gets in this game she likes to play.
“You’re just so delicious,” she purrs, stepping closer with a predatory grace.
Disgust twists my features into a snarl. My lip curls, and I let out a low growl, which reverberates in the confined space.
The demon tips her head back and laughs, the sound scraping against my nerves like nails on a chalkboard.
