His golden eyes gleamed. “The cat does not always use the door, Alice. Why should the witch?”
Think. Think. Think.
An idea sparked. I straightened, a new fire burning in my chest.
I refused to face Alanna dressed like some soiled impostor princess. I was a witch. A fighter. One of the Uncrowned.
“Chester, I need to get to the room where Brynn dressed me. My clothes?—”
“The servant with snow skin and ruby lips?” His grin widened. “She waits. She hopes. Follow the grin, Alice.”
Chapter Forty
Darius
A knock sounded at my bedroom door. Rabbit opened it.
"Her Majesty has sent over a specially made suit for her betrothed," a guard announced.
Betrothed. The word made my stomach turn.
Rabbit took the garment bag and closed the door. He turned to me, his face pale, his eyes filled with the same guilt that had haunted him since the grotto.
"Darius..." He unzipped the bag and pulled out the suit like it was poisoned.
Pink. A ridiculous, garish pink.
Like I would ever wear pink.
But it was Alanna’s favorite color. And I was her favorite slave. Her puppet. Her pet.
Tonight at sunset, I would stand before her court dressed in pink like some prize she'd won at a carnival.
I was trapped. End of story.
I shook my head. “God, she’s a bitch.” I grabbed a bottle of Black Smoke and took a long swig.
Rabbit hung the suit on a gold rack. “I’m… I’m… so sorry.”
I leaned the bottle against my forehead. “The only thing that matters is that Alice is safe.”
I meant it. I'd do it all again. But god, it hurt.
“The queen gave her word on that?”
“Yeah, she did.”
Silence stretched between us. The kind of silence that weighs heavy with things unsaid.
Rabbit sank onto the edge of a chair, his hands clasped between his knees. He looked older than he had days ago. Broken in ways that went deeper than exhaustion.
"I don't know if they're alive. Marcus is only seven. The girls—three and five. They're just babies, Darius. And I can't—" He pressed his fist against his mouth, swallowing a sob. "I can't stop imagining what the mines are doing to them. The darkness. The ore. The madness."
My chest tightened. I took another swig of Black Smoke. The burn felt like punishment. Like I deserved it.
"How did we get here, Rabbit?" I stared at the ceiling. "How did she win?"
"She didn't win,” he said. “Not yet. Not as long as we're still breathing."
