Page 330 of Kingdoms of Night

I don’t know what I feel. Too much, all at once. I opt for honesty. “I’m scared.”

“Of me?”

I’d be foolish not to be terrified of him, but that’s not what I meant. “Of losing me.”

“You’ve lived most of your life pretending to be what the southern kingdoms think women are. Subservient. Lesser. The only thing you’re losing is a lie.”

That’s rich, coming from him. “I’m nothing but a cunt and a womb to you.”

The moment I say the words, I realize how wrong they are. Dryan has said many things to that effect, and his eagerness to rut with me cannot be denied. But he also talks to me. Answers my questions rather than avoiding them. He sees that I’m safe, that my desires are met.

He sees me.

“Don’t forget your mouth, pet,” he teases. “I quite like that, too.”

I swat his hand, though I’m still dancing. I couldn’t stop if I wanted to. I don’t.

“Would I waste my time talking to a woman whose company bores me? Would I want my blood tainted by a weaker mind? I didn’t choose you because you looked like a queen. I chose you because youfeellike one.”

I stare at him, mouth agape, and utterly confused.

“I’m your pet.”

“Of course you are. My pet.” He takes my hand and makes me twirl, only stopping when I face the eager eyes of his court. “Their queen.”

CHAPTERSEVENTEEN

Idon’t know what to say, or think, or do. It’s just too much, and it contradicts every single one of my core beliefs, more than the existence of fairies ever did.

I’m trying to gather my thoughts when my eyes catch something utterly confusing. I try to focus. Yes. She’s here.

“Margaux.”

Dryan frowns. “Excuse me?”

“That is Margaux, my friend. The princess of Balmur. She was taken at the same time I was.”

He turns to look in the same direction, and nods slowly, so I know I’m not dreaming.

She’s wearing a thick collar around her neck, and very little else. My dress looks downright prudish compared to her cutout outfit meant for easy access.

A slave. She’s been turned into a slave.

“I have… Can I talk to her?” I’m still dancing. Why am I still dancing? I want to stop. I want to go to Margaux.

“Relax. I’ll pull you out of the song. Just calm down.”

My heart’s thundering as I find that none of my limbs want to do anything I’m telling them to. I’m a prisoner inside my own body.

“Why can’t I stop dancing?” I scream.

Dryan carries me under the back and knees, sweeping me off my feet and out of the room.

My heart is still galloping, and I can barely breathe, panicking.

“Breathe,” he repeats. “Your heart’s beating too fast. I don’t want it to fail. Just breathe.”

His voice helps a little, but I can’t forget the utter helplessness of the moment when I attempted to stop dancing.

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