The mantra repeats in my mind like a lifeline as I try to ignore the massive fae king at my side. But I could no more ignore him than I could a blade at my throat. His arm is rigid beneath my hand, muscles tight as iron, and his breathing is faster than it should be, so quick that the rushed sound seems to fill my ears. Every few steps, he glances at me, as if making sure I haven’t vanished.
Does he know how badly I want to run?
We stop in front of heavy oak doors.
“How much do you know of the fae?” he asks, his voice low. Dangerous.
“Just that they’re dangerous,” I manage, trying to avoid the way his deep blue eyes seem to be assessing every inch of me.
“Well, you’re about to learn a lot in a very short amount of time.”
It sounds like a threat.But is it?
My heart pounds as the doors swing open without a sound.
Music spills out first. Then warmth. Then light.
The hall beyond is enormous, the ceiling rising high above, carved with patterns that catch the golden chandelier light. It gleams across polished stone floors and flickering sconces, turning everything soft and unreal. The air is thick with rich scents—meat, spice, sweetness. It’s so overwhelming it makes my chest tight.
It’s beautiful.
Too beautiful.
The kind of beautiful that makes it painfully clear I don’t belong here.
King Oberon pulls me forward before I can hesitate.
The hall is filled with fae. They stand in separate groups, like four different worlds forced into the same room. One group wears deep blues, their gowns and suits shimmering like water beneath moonlight. Another wears greens and browns, their clothing rich and natural, like the forest itself has claimed them. A third group is dressed in silver and white, pale and elegant, almost glowing. The last group wears reds and oranges, bold and bright, like living flame.
They’re all beautiful.And they’re all dangerous.
Their voices murmur together, low and quiet. But as we step farther into the room, something shifts.
“The chosen one,” someone calls.
The words slice through the hall. The music stops. Silence follows. Every head turns. Every eye finds me.
My breath catches. My fingers curl into my palm as panic crawls up my spine. I want to disappear. I want to run. I want to be anywhere but here.
King Oberon keeps walking, dragging me with him like I belong at his side.
I don’t. I don’t belong here. I don’t belong anywhere in this place of monsters and kings and power. But their eyes stay on me. Watching. Waiting.
Then there’s a movement, a flash of green, and I spot King Sylvian. His brow is furrowed, and his lips are drawn into a tight line as he makes his way toward us, his tall form cutting through the crowd effortlessly. The way he carries himself is different from King Oberon. There’s a gentleness to him, a subtle grace that draws my eye even amidst the chaos. His eyes flicker with something I can’t quite read as he approaches, and I feel a jolt of hope that maybe he’ll save me from this madness.
Except he’s just as much a part of this as King Oberon.
“What are you doing with her?” he demands, his voice sharp but tinged with concern.Is it possible he cares? Or is he simply trying to assert his authority?
King Oberon shrugs. “I tookmyhuman,” he says, his tone dripping with possessiveness.
“Yourhuman?” King Sylvian repeats incredulously, disbelief etched across his handsome features. “She’smyhuman. I found her. Allyoufound was dead girls. The goddess rewarded me with finding her on my day to check the altar, which means she’s mine.”
Anger rushes through me. “Was itniceto stop finding dead women left behind?”
King Sylvian stares at me, seeming confused. “It was. That’s what I’m saying.”
I have to take several breaths, surprised that I’d spoken. Surprised by how angry I still am. “All those women were people. Daughters. Sisters.”
