Chapter Five
Joy
The guards' armored boots echoed against marble floors so polished they reflected the crystal chandeliers overhead like mirrors. Each step deeper into the palace was like descending into a gilded trap.
Courtiers in silk gowns and velvet doublets lined the corridors, their conversations dying to whispers as we passed. Their eyes followed us with the detached curiosity of those watching a parade—interested, but not surprised. Jeweled hands fluttered fans and wine glasses paused halfway to painted lips, but no one dared speak aloud. The blank apathy in their gazes chilled me more than outright hostility would have. How many prisoners had they watched march down these same halls?
The palace itself was a monument to excess. Chandeliers dripped with thousands of crystals that cast rainbow fragments across oil paintings in golden frames—portraits of Unseelies whose eyes seemed to track our movement. The vaulted ceilings soared three stories high, painted with cherubs and clouds that might have been heavenly if I weren’t marching toward myexecution. Marble columns twisted like sugar work, supporting archways carved with intricate roses and thorns.
Under different circumstances, the beauty would have taken my breath away. Instead, each stunning detail was like another bar in an elegant cage, reminding me that even the most beautiful prisons were still prisons.
The guards halted before towering double doors carved with intertwining serpents. Two sentries snapped to attention, their synchronized movement opening the doors without a word.
The great hall beyond stole my breath. Soaring buttresses supported a ceiling painted with constellations that seemed to shift and pulse with their own light. Hundreds of courtiers filled the space—a sea of silk, satin, and glittering jewels. Their murmured conversations created a low hum that died the moment we appeared, replaced by a silence so complete I could hear the whisper of our footsteps on the marble.
All eyes followed our march toward the far end of the hall, where a figure sat upon a throne that seemed carved from a single piece of midnight-blue stone. Velvet cushions the color of fresh blood softened its harsh angles.
The queen herself was not what I'd expected. She appeared no older than twenty-five, breathtakingly beautiful in a way that made my throat constrict. Her raven-black hair cascaded over pale shoulders like spilled ink, and her youth made her presence more unsettling—power this absolute shouldn't rest in hands that looked like they'd never lifted anything heavier than a wine glass.
Not like Enzo. He'd carved his path through hardship and horrors, especially as Angelo Santi's key enforcer. Just thinking about him made my chest tighten with longing. Part of me still expected him to burst through those towering doors, all deadly grace and protective fury, ready to rescue me again.
But even if he was alive, he couldn't save me from a place he couldn't reach.
The head guard halted ten paces from the throne and executed a precise bow. "Your Majesty, we found these intruders on the Checkered Path."
The queen's fingers fluttered in a dismissive gesture. "Step aside. I wish to see what my realm has caught."
The guards moved with military precision, parting like curtains to reveal their sovereign in full splendor.
The queen was breathtaking in a way that made my throat constrict. Her gown cascaded from her shoulders in waves of crystalline blue silk, each fold catching the light from a thousand tiny sapphires sewn into the fabric. The dress seemed to flow like liquid starlight, pooling around the base of her throne. Her eyes matched that dress perfectly—deep blue that seemed to hold the depths of winter lakes.
Her ebony hair flowed over her shoulders in glossy waves, not a strand out of place, revealing the elegant curve of her neck. A delicate tiara rested on her brow, its simple silver band studded with diamonds that caught the chandelier light and threw tiny rainbows across her pale skin. Even her posture spoke of centuries of breeding—spine straight, chin lifted just enough to convey authority without arrogance.
When her gaze swept over me, I felt like a butterfly pinned to a collector's board. Those blue eyes cataloged every detail with the cool assessment of someone accustomed to judging worth at a glance. My skin burned under her scrutiny. I wanted to disappear, to melt into the marble floor, to hide behind the very guards who'd dragged me here.
Heat flooded my cheeks as I became acutely aware of what she was seeing. My red sundress—once cheerful and bright—now hung in tatters. Dark stains bloomed across the cotton where I'd crawled through mud and brambles. The hem wastorn, revealing scraped knees beneath. My fingernails were black crescents of dirt, and I could feel grit embedded under what remained of my once-pink nail polish. Even my toes, visible in my ruined sandals, were caked with earth.
I dropped my gaze to the polished floor, catching my reflection in the marble. While she looked like she'd stepped from a portrait, I looked like something dragged from a gutter. My clothes hung in shreds, blood and dirt ground into every fiber. I was everything she was not—broken, filthy, human.
She leaned back in her velvet chair. “Ari the Dark Demon? I haven’t heard about you since the end of the Supernatural War where my father was murdered.”
“I was in hiding.” He lifted his chin, meeting the queen's gaze without a flicker of shame.
She drummed her fingernails on the armrest. “Like a coward?”
I shouldn't have been surprised. Ari would sell out his own mother if it meant survival. Hiding while others died? That was just who he was—a snake who'd slither into any hole to save his own scales.
“No.” Ari’s jaw tightened. “I was waiting for the right time to raise a movement to restore the rightful order and finish what my royal liege had started.”
The look in her eyes screamed danger—any sane person would have backed away. But Ari nodded. “I understand your pain. My king was also brutally murdered during the war. I want to avenge not only his death but your father’s.”
“Release his shackles.”
Figures. But she didn’t say a word about me.
“How did you get into my realm?” The queen’s voice carried a note I couldn’t identify. Surprise? Amusement? Resentment? Whatever it was made me lift my head despite my shame.
Ari bowed slightly, a far more gracefully than what the guards had managed. “Queen Alanna, I wish to introduce you to Joy DuPont.”
