I needed to understand. How long had she suffered here? How could her brothers have left her behind?
"How old are you, Brynn?"
"Twenty-one in human years, though Fae and the Unseelie count time differently. I'm the youngest." A sad smile tugged at her ruby-red lips. "My brothers were already in their teens when I was born. I was an accident."
Seven years. She'd been trapped here for seven years. Or at least what felt like seven years. It could even be longer.
She clutched my hand with her calloused one—hands roughened by years of servitude to the woman who kept her prisoner.
"I must get you ready for the queen." Her gray eyes held mine, urgent. Desperate. "But you must not tell her that I am your aunt. Or who you are. Promise me."
The memory of the cane crashing across my back flashed through me. Phantom pain rippled along my spine, and I shivered.
"Don't worry." I squeezed her hand back. "I won't."
Brynn led me into a marble bathroom. A long, pale blue dress hung on a gold rack, with matching pumps arranged beneath it. A streaming bubble bath waited, fragrant with lavender and something floral.
Such hypocrisy. Alanna wanted to present herself as a gracious queen—all luxury and beauty—when underneath she was worse than the Evil Queen inSnow White.
“Please get into the tub,” Brynn said softly. “I will help you get clean.”
I pulled off my tunic and clutched it tightly against my chest. "You won't throw my clothes away, will you?" Tears pushed at the back of my eyes. "They're special to me."
Archer's tunic. The hose that smelled like the grotto. The last pieces of Darius and the Uncrowned I had left.
Brynn's face softened. "No, I'll clean them for you. I promise."
I nodded and pulled off my hose, stepping into the warm water. For some reason, my usual modesty had been thrown out the window. Maybe it was knowing Brynn was family—the only family I had in this nightmare—and I clung to that.
As I turned my back to her, she gasped. “She beat you, didn’t she?”
I glanced over my shoulder as I lowered myself into the tub. "Yes." Then it hit me. The question rose before I could stop it—maybe too personal, maybe too soon. But I had to know. "She's beaten you too, hasn't she?"
“Ever since her prized prisoner escaped and Alanna lost the war. She blamed me for all of it."
"Prized prisoner?" I frowned. "Who?"
"The shadow witch, Joy."
My heart stuttered. "Joy? Joy is—she's safe. She's with Enzo. I know her."
Brynn stared at me like I'd grown a second head.
"I'm so sorry." I turned sideways in the tub and clasped her hand. "Joy was afraid of what would happen to you. She asked Hatter to find you."
Brynn wiped a tear and gave me a sad smile. "It's not his fault. The guards were doubled around me after Joy escaped. He couldn't have reached me even if he'd tried." She squeezed my hand. "The beatings, the years of servitude—it's only made me stronger. Joy should have no regrets. Like you, she didn't belong in this world."
I nodded numbly and turned around, letting the warm water lap against my skin. Would I ever see Joy again to tell her? Would I ever make it out of this place alive?
What she didn't know was I'd never belonged in my world either. I'd spent my whole life as an outsider—unwanted by my coven, abandoned by a family I couldn't remember.
But here? Hatter, Chester, Caterpillar, the Uncrowned—they had accepted me.
This broken, dangerous world felt more like home than Earth ever had.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Darius
