Page 57 of Burning Star

I’m not sure if Iwanthim to let me go.

But when he eventually pulls back, we dress in silence, the weight of unspoken tension pressing between us.

Every night fae we pass in the winding, mirrored halls bows their head. Their eyes are on me—curious, envious, some filled with barely veiled contempt.

Aerix doesn’t care. He walks beside me like I belong to him, his hand resting on the small of my back with a touch that says:mine.

When we reach the heavy wooden doors of the human wing, he stops, his hand tightening on my lower back as if he can’t stand the thought of letting me go.

“I love you,” I tell him, the sentiment pouring out of me naturally now. “The fact that you’re letting me try to make this right with Sophia and Victoria means a lot to me.”

His magic stirs around us, sharp and cold, like frost seeping into bone.

“I’m going to keep you safe, Zoey,” he promises me. “No matter what it takes. No matter who I have to destroy to do it.”

Before I can ask what he means, he crushes his mouth to mine, his teeth dragging against my lower lip like he’s holding himself back from biting down.

“Until tomorrow,” he whispers when he pulls away, trembling, each syllable heavy with need.

“Until tomorrow,” I echo, soft and breathless.

His fingers trail down my arm, stopping at my wrist. He doesn’t just hold it—he clutches it, his thumb circling over my pulse like he’s memorizing the rhythm of my blood.

When I step back, his grip loosens with agonizing slowness, his fingers trailing along my skin. And as the doors close between us, I catch one last glimpse of him—dark, beautiful, and dangerous—his wings flared as he watches me with a look that promises he’ll burn this court to the ground if I asked.

Only when the doors shut do I exhale, pressing my palm to my hip, feeling the still painful wound beneath my dress and smiling.

Because Aerix’s name is carved into my skin.

Into my heart.

Until the end of time.

ZOEY

As I roundthe corner to head back to my suite, Katerina appears at the far end of the hallway, her pale blonde hair unmistakable, even at this distance.

“Katerina,” I call out, quickening my pace.

She doesn’t look up. Doesn’t acknowledge me in any way. She just turns in the opposite direction, walking away with measured steps and turning the corner.

The rejection stings. After all, Katerina was the one who pulled me into her room a few days ago, breaking her years-long silence to tell me about Henry. To confide in me. To ask me to help get Henry killed.

And now she’s ignoring me? It makes no sense.

“Fine,” I mutter to myself, my hands curling into fists. “Be that way.”

By the time I reach our suite, I’m bracing myself for more hostility. I can almost feel the tension behind the door, a warning that tonight won’t be any calmer than the last few.

Victoria and Sophia have their doors open, both in their nightgowns, preparing for bed. Victoria is brushing her hair at the vanity, while Sophia sits on the window seat, a small book open in her lap.

They both look up when I enter, their expressions hardening in an instant.

“Look who decided to grace us with her presence,” Victoria drawls, setting down her brush. “The prince is already done with you for the night?”

“Actually,” I say, forcing myself to stay calm. “I chose to come back.”

“How gracious of you.” Her voice drips with sarcasm.

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