ZOEY
When Aethelthryth escortsme to Aerix’s quarters for dinner, the note’s handwriting plays through my thoughts on repeat, each curve and slash of the letters burning behind my eyes.
Aerix is waiting by the fireplace, his wings retracted, staring into the flames as though deep in thought.
“You look troubled,” he says as I enter, his gaze following me with that predatory focus I’ve grown so familiar with.
My heart stutters at the intensity of his midnight stare, warmth spreading through my veins despite the chill that always surrounds him.
“I do have some things on my mind.” I keep my eyes locked on his and move closer, studying his face for any hint of reaction. “Mainly, Matt’s murder. And the note left with his body.”
Aerix’s expression doesn’t change, but something shifts in the air as I walk toward him. A slight cooling, like a breeze through an open window, even though all his windows are closed.
“What about it?” he finally asks.
“The handwriting,” I say, and I’m only a foot away from him now—close enough that I can see his breaths quicken as he rakeshis gaze over my body. “I compared it to your signature on my painting. The one you sograciouslyimproved for me.”
He tilts his head, his lips curving into that infuriating smirk of his. “Did you now?”
“The letters are different.” I hold his gaze, refusing to back down, even though my head feels dizzy from standing so close to him. “Your capital A’s don’t have that extra curl. Your lowercase T’s have softer crosses. You didn’t write those notes.”
He reaches out, trailing his fingers along my arm, and I suck in a sharp breath. “How observant of you,” he says after it’s clear to both of us that I’m not going to pull away. “Although, I fail to see why this matters.”
Tension crackles in the air between us.
But I think about the note again, shake myself out of it, and catch his wrist, stopping him from distracting me more than he already is. “Tell me you killed them,” I say, trembling slightly at the feel of his soft skin under my fingers. “Jake and Matt.”
“Why would I do that?” His smirk widens.
“Because fae can’t lie. So, tell me, Aerix. Did you kill them and write those notes?”
He studies me for a long moment, his eyes gleaming with something that looks dangerously close to pride.
Then, finally, he speaks.
“Do you think you’re the only one whose royal feels protective over what belongs to them?” he asks, his voice a hypnotic melody that draws me deeper into his orbit. “The only one who cares?”
My heart stutters, caught off guard by the diversion. “Where are you going with this?” I ask carefully, narrowing my eyes as I study him.
“I’m saying that I didn’t explicitly claim responsibility for their deaths. Not even to Cierra when you witnessed oursquabble in here.” He extracts his wrist from my grip, looking amused while he does. “You simply assumed.”
“But—” I stop, my mind racing. “Jake and Matt touched me. And the notes said?—”
“You weren’t the only one they touched.” His wings unfurl slightly in a casual display of power that reminds me of the dangerous line I’m toeing right now. “You were, however, there both times it happened.”
I comb through my memories, and it doesn’t take long to hit me.
How could I have been soblindedto it before now?
Jake in the garden, bumping Aurora’s shoulder as he stormed past us.
Matt in the courtyard, brushing Aurora’s sleeve.
“Aurora,” I whisper, and everything clicks into place.
The way she never reacts to anything. How she stays away from everyone, calm and collected while chaos swirls around her. Her perfectly measured responses, her careful movements, her determination to not just survive in the Night Court, but tothrivein it.
“The king’s favorite,” Aerix confirms my suspicions. “She belongs to him, just as you belong to me. And he doesn’t take kindly to others touching what’s his.”
