Page 99 of Wrath of the Fae

‘Go.’

He hesitates, looking at the closed door, the window, me and the room he’s about to leave me in.

And then, he steps close, leans in and kisses me on my cheek.

‘Love you, Pup,’ he says. ‘Do not die on me or turn monster. I don’t think I’ll survive.’

‘I have no intention of doing either.’

‘Two days max,’ he says. ‘I’ll be back with your army. You better be in those tunnels and heading home with the others by then.’

I nod.

He leaves through the window without another word.

‘Love you too,’ I whisper to the empty room.

nineteen

Iworkthroughtheroom quickly, learning where everything is. What clothes are in here. What books. What weapons I can fashion from the shit left on the floor. I must know this place inside out so anyone who looks will never suspect I’ve never been in here before.

Even though the room is disgusting, Rhea’s clothes hang in the wardrobe, clean and fresh.

Dresses. Not the long, heavy things I’ve seen on the ladies. But revealing and seductive.

I hear footsteps approaching, so I throw the dress back inside the wardrobe and stand tall. Ready. I feel my dagger at my thigh. I have something to protect myself with if absolutely necessary.

The door bangs as if kicked but remains closed.

‘You’re expected downstairs at seven. He wants you in pink.’

The footsteps carry on, and I’m left alone.

I watch the door nonstop, just waiting for anyone to come through. I think what I will say if Cyrus walks through. Or Reid. Or even El.

Nothing coherent forms.

As the sun begins to set, my thoughts shift to this evening.

I’m expected downstairs at seven. He, whoeverheis, wants me in pink, so I’ve washed and chosen a pink dress that covers me in the places I need to hide.

My markings with Tessa are covered. So is my back where Rhea has welts. And my chest where her vow was.

Covered.

But where exactly do I go? What’s expected of me?

When the clock chimes seven, three women arrive. Their heads remain bowed low, and they don’t say a word. They wear grey robes that are sheer. Beneath, I see their naked bodies. Their robes have a hood they keep up, and their movements are slow, steady and seem rehearsed.

I gasp, seeing a human face look up at me.

A human girl. Completely and totally fucking human. Her eyes widen ever so slightly as she looks at me.

They remain standing at the open door, waiting in a line expectantly.

The human girl who locked eyes with me silently nods towards it, ushering me through. As we walk, she stands at my side and nudges me this way and that with soft touches, hidden from the two others who keep their heads down. I try to catch her eye, but she doesn’t look up.

We walk down endless corridors and passages until we return to the large central hall. We carry on towards the rear of the palace. There’s a set of large doors ahead. First Kingdom soldiers linger at the entrance, goblets of wine in hand. Men, oozing self-importance and grandeur, talk amongst themselves. From inside, I hear music, chatter, laughter and drunken revelry. I’m transported back to the human world. To Serge’s brothel. That same scent of sweat and alcohol. That cruel laughter. Tables thud as goblets land on them hard, and chair legs scrape across the stone floor. I dare a side glance at the human girl. She taps her eyes and points to the floor.

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