“Ah yes, you certainly have been kept under lock and key this past year, have you not?” Cassandra says, her dark lips pressing into a pout. “How lovely of our king to pull you into the darkness with us.”
“Yeah, so lovely,” someone from the end of the table pipes up, clearly not amused by the way I’ve been dominating the conversation. I’m glad my plan is working on someone. “Whatever the case, we must thank you, Lady Heather, for bringing our king out of hiding. It is rare to be this close to such untouchable beauty.”
I cast a glance toward Magnus; I thought he’d be the type to need regular doses of flattery daily like a medication, but the smile on his lips is uncomfortable. These are not his friends—they’re his subjects. With how casual the inner circle of the Moth Court is with each other, maybe I’ve forgotten that there’s a difference.
“It will be a night to remember,” Magnus agrees, and my stomach drops. He still wants to do this. What is it going to take for him to swipe left on me? I’ve barely glanced at him all day and still, he looks at me like I’m sunlight. Delighted, enamored,and maybe a little afraid. If only I could figure out a way to make that fear grow.
The conversation shifts, and God, I can’t keep up. Have you ever started an episode ofThe Bachelorin the middle of a season? Yeah, that’s what this conversation has been like. I don’t bother to smile and nod along like I did when trying to mingle with the Moth Court. Instead, I allow myself to look utterly bored. Finally, I stand from the table, the chair scraping behind me.
“I’m just—”
They stare, waiting for whatever words will justify my behavior. It’s probably not good form to leave a royal dinner party without asking to be excused or bowing to the king, but considering I’m trying to make them hate me, I don’t bother with either.
I finally land on, “Going to get some air.”
“I’ll accompany you,” Magnus says, rising from the head of the table.
“Or you could not.” It comes out sharper than the sarcasm I was aiming for. I shoot Magnus a look; perhaps a little sass in front of his court might get him to call off this whole thing.
“Come, my king, surely you can allow your princess a moment to herself before your lifetime together,” another one of the ladies—Sabella—says. Her hair flows down her back in soft waves and is the color of violets. She’s been pleasant, laughs at Magnus’s jokes, and is clearly into him. He’s a catch around here—why keep me?
She places her hand on top of Magnus’s, and her painted red lips lift in a smile he doesn’t return. Magnus doesn’t flinch, but after a long moment, he finally nods.
“Of course. Enjoy your walk, my love.” The fang-filled smile does not reach his eyes.
I don’t understand why he hesitates; it should be easy to let me go when he knows I have no way to escape or contact the outside world. My phone is still totally dead, though I’m not giving up hope yet. I trudge out of the dining room, relaxing only when the feeling of being watched fades. I fiddle with the Mothman keychain—well part of it. I have to guess sometime in the misadventures of The Dragonfly Court and the swamp it snapped in half. Still, a piece of the charm is still here. I’ve been hiding it in my pockets; thankful it stayed put amongst all the splashing yesterday.
To say the castle is large is an understatement. Though no matter where I go, I’m still close enough to Magnus for the terms of the bargain to be met. It’s all dark stone and burgundy carpet, and I wonder if Magnus has my closet filled with things in cream and blush just to stand out against the dour backdrop.
A light shining in the darkness.
I cringe. The whole thing makes me feel like some kind of doll wandering around a gothic dream house. It’s fairly devoid of people, though occasionally, I’ll hear the clipping of heels against stone and turn to see a maid hurrying from task to task.
They look upon me with interest, and I can’t blame them for being curious. It seems most of their tasks revolve around the great vampire king’s wedding—and I am his bride, whether I like it or not. There’s no way I’ll say “I do,” but the seriousness of this whole situation makes my chest heave.
We’re tied together in some sick way because—what? I wanted to be clever? To help him? Let’s face it, Magnus was never serious about online dating. He’s humored me to bide his time until the wedding.
I’m a fool.
My head is spinning, fixating on all the things I’ve done wrong. I blink, and the edges of the room begin to blur until everything is the color of blood. I close my eyes tight, steadying myself onthe edge of the staircase. Feathers poke out of the skin on my arms and—what the hell?
I throw myself through the first door I find.
A bedroom.
The mirrors are cracked and covered by sheets. It reminds me, in a way, of Queen Plume’s collection of broken clocks, and doesn’t seem grand enough for a king to rest his head. The portal that’s glowing in the corner, however, suggests this room belongs to Magnus. I would have expected it to be under lock and key. Maybe it’s warded just like everything else in this damn castle—enchanted to let me through in hopes I’d end up in his bed one day—as if. The anger and tension swell at the base of my shoulders. I throw myself toward the rippling surface, only to be met with the hard press of glass against my shifting skin.I’m never going to find a way out.I think, and the quiet darkness fills with sound of my cracking bones. My figure grows as my body morphs painful and strange until painted in shadow is a silhouette I don’t recognize.
Oh my God…
Straightening my back, I gaze into one of the cracked, gilded mirrors—my reflection stretched and shattered in the broken glass.
My face is still mine, but everything else—well I’m not exactly sure what I’m seeing.Combing my fingers through my hair, the texture is more akin to feathers. It’s soft like the way Moth feels when he’s transformed. The long strands hang down my back, aside from unruly bangs shooting out around my antenna.
When I move, my feet—my talons—scrape the stone floor emitting a sound that makes my teeth hurt. I move closer to my reflection, taking in the details. My eyes have taken on a strange milky green hue, the same shade as my wings. Other than that, I’m unrecognizable, half-shifted into a monster. Feathers poke from my skin, and my cream-colored dress is tattered, half ofthe garment in a pile on the floor. A hard exoskeleton covers my body from legs to chest.
The door creaks open. I see the shadow before anything else—a dark, looming figure creeping up behind me. Whirling around, it’s the blade that catches my attention first, short with gems encrusted from the handle to the tip. It’s gripped in Magnus’s shaking hands. His unblinking eyes stare at me with no recognition. It’s as if he’s afraid…
“Don’t step any closer!” His usually smooth voice is just as cracked as the mirrors in this room. Motionless, we stare at one another, his gaze rising from my claws to my face.
