Page 331 of Kingdoms of Night

“What happened?”

“It was a fairy dance, pet, imbued with ancient magic. Your kind isn’t blessed any longer. You can only leave the dance if a fairy wills it.” He presses his lips to my forehead, carrying me up flights and flights of stairs until we reach the familiar confines of his four walls.

I’ve never been happier to return to safety.

Dryan takes me to his bed and tucks me in. “Rest.”

When I realize he’s leaving, another wave of anxiety flows. “You’re returning to the dance?”

My heart might pump slower, but it’s ten times heavier now.

“I have guests I cannot afford to offend,” he says, holding my gaze at the door.

Calreth and Keira are powerful, that much is clear, and by leaving them, he might incur their wrath. I force myself to nod.

“I’ll send Iara back up.” Dryan smiles and closes the door behind him.

He’s returning to the feast, to bed someone else, as his customs demand, because I’m so very weak and foolish.

A sob rises in my throat, and I cry, and cry and cry. As I fall asleep, my last thought is wondering what Margaux was doing here in the first place. I’d know if she was in this keep, wouldn’t I?

* * *

I don't feel right when I wake. I'm groggy and unfocused, my vision half blurred, as though I overindulged. I don't recognize anything in my surroundings. Not the scents, not the dark, small space I occupy. Gone are the soft covers and delicate pillows.

I think I'm in a vehicle of sorts—I hear horses, and I feel like I'm in motion, though it could just be my head playing tricks on me, given how unwell I am.

Did I drink too much wine? I can't remember doing so. Arguably, memory lapses go hand in hand with an excess of spirits.Perhaps it was the fairy dance’s thrall getting to me. I remember the end of the dance, the fear.

I remember Margaux.

“Where am I?” I ask, noticing a feminine silhouette here with me.

I assume it’s Iara, but as my eyes acclimate to the darkness, I see how wrong I am.

“Shush, pretty little useless tool. Good mortals are silent.”

I feel a wave of sickly sweet, terrifying mist take me, and then I’m gone again.

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

I've never felt so weak, dazed, or confused. I can't see anything at first when I wake, though there's some light around me.

My vision's blurry and so is my mind. I blink several times, and it eventually helps a little. Enough so I can see myself.

My pretty, sheer dress is torn to shreds.

A month ago, I would have died of shame at the thought of being laid bare for all to see. I'm no longer that sweet summer child who believed anything her father said was true. The new person I have become feels nothing but rage.

A sharp jolt of pain revives some of my senses. My arms, my shoulders, my hands, all feel wrong. In the wrong places. I start to see a little better. Enough to discern Morag, and next to her, Margaux.

There are other people. We're inside a hall, much smaller than that of the Crystal Keep, but just as regal. And the silver-haired beauty smirks as my hands are raised above my head and suspended from the ceiling. I'm lifted a mere inch off the floor, but the pain in my arms is instant, and only increases with every passing moment.

"Look at her, the whore who would demand a kingdom," her singsong voice chants.

The fae behind her spew obscenities, calling me every name I know and many I don't.

"What a charmed cunt she must have for the northern king to be blinded by her rotting flesh so well he'd wed her.Her!" she screams to her audience.

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