Page 33 of The Crowned Queen

For a wild heartbeat, Araya considered fighting. She could smash the basin and use one of the shards to slice his throat. The runes carved into her skin prickled in warning, but if she moved fast enough maybe she could kill him before her own magic punished her.

But if she failed...who would pay the price for her defiance? Belanis? Or some other fae servant whose name Araya didn’t even know?

Araya let out a shuddering breath. She couldn’t be responsible for that.

She unfolded the hood, carefully smoothing out the heavy fabric before sliding it over her head.

Darkness surrounded her—dense and suffocating in a way the shadows had never been. Fabric brushed her lashes, sticking to her nose and mouth with every shallow breath that sawed out of her lungs. It was too tight, smothering her even as Jaxon’s fingers moved deftly along the edge, tightening it bit by bit like she wasn’t trembling under his hands.

“Easy, Starling,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist. “I’ve got you.”

He guided her through the door, careful not to let her scrape her bare skin against the iron bars. Magic rushed over her skin as they passed through, turning to walk back down the hall the way he had come.

Araya tried to calm her pounding heartbeat, but the hood pressed against her nose and mouth with every shallow, panicked breath she took. She couldn’t see the hall. Couldn’t see Jaxon. There was nothing but the darkness pressing against her skin and the weight of his hands on her, owning every step she took.

“A few steps here,” he warned. “Through here—that’s it, careful.”

“Commander Shaw,” an unfamiliar voice greeted them. “They’re ready for you inside.”

“Wonderful,” Jaxon said.

His grip on her shifted, his fingers curling tightly around her bicep as they stepped through another doorway.

“Now Starling,” he murmured, his voice pitched for her ears alone. “Remember where your loyalties lie in here. Don’t embarrass me.”

“Attempting to influence our witness, Commander Shaw?”

Araya jumped, Baran Pryce’s voice cutting through her like ice. Her heart slammed against her ribs, frantic and uneven. The last time she’d been in a room with Baran Pryce, they’d strapped her down and carved into her with iron needles⁠—

“Just ordering her to cooperate, High Inquisitor Pryce,” Jaxon said smoothly. His thumb stroked the small of her back, tracing the knobs of her spine.

“That isn’t necessary, Jaxon,” Garrick Shaw said. “I’m sure Miss Starwind will realize quickly that cooperation is in her best interest. Go ahead and remove her hood now.”

The room could have been another cell if it had bars. Araya blinked hard, her eyes burning at the sudden rush of golden light from the aetherlamps. Solid stone walls pressed in on her from every side, the cramped space dominated by a rough wooden table, its scarred surface laden with a spread of bread and cured meats and boiled eggs.

It must be breakfast then—she’d been here overnight.

“Miss Starwind.” Garrick set his tin cup down beside the battered tea service. “I’m so glad to see you made it through last night’s ordeal unscathed.”

“Not entirely,” Baran grunted from the place at Garrick’s right. “Otherwise your son wouldn’t be squawking about her needing a healer, gods damn the security risks.”

“Are you alright?” Kai asked from the other end of the table. He was the only one to look straight at her, his expression twisted with guilt.

Araya pressed her lips together, pretending she didn’t see him staring at her like a struck dog. He’d made his choices. He would find no forgiveness from her here.

“She’ll live,” Jaxon answered for her with a scowl. “But my father always stressed the importance of caring for my possessions. She needs proper medical care⁠—”

“She’s an asset now,” Pryce said. “Not some pampered house pet. If I had my way, a scratch on her foot would be the least of her complaints.”

Araya’s eyes widened, indignation flaring hot. “I haven’t complained once,” she snapped. “If you⁠—”

“Araya.” Jaxon’s hand fell heavily on her shoulder, squeezing tight. “Stop talking.”

Araya coughed, choking on the words that caught in her throat before her mind could catch up with the command. Her eyes watered, her face burning at the indignity of it. Jaxon had silenced her—as effectively as cutting out her tongue.

“Far too outspoken for my tastes.” Pryce clicked his tongue, rising from his seat. “But this sor’vael is intriguing. Why aren’t we doing this to all of them? Seems like it could solve a few problems.”

Problems. Araya glared at him, bile burning the back of her throat. Problems like the fact that some fae females would rather live in poverty and squalor than submit themselves willingly to a human man. Men like him.