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“Well, she is a human.”

“One we should respect.”

“Never in the history of Jord Courts has a human taken the right hand position.”

Lawrie rolls her eyes. “Just because your daughter isn’t sucking our lord’s cock any longer doesn’t mean—“

I clear my throat.

Uttert bows his head. “I apologize, my lady, I did not mean to offend.” His scowl reveals his insincerity.

Each step forward I take is intentional. A dance of purpose and unmistakable confidence—none of which I actually feel, but they believe my performance nonetheless. “Do not address me as your lady.”

In fact, I raise my voice. Might as well save the rest of the court from having to gossip later and mince my words. “I am not here to dine with you all as if I wasn’t just taken from the Surface. There is no way in all of Hel that I would want to serve on this court, let alone be the—”

“—Future bride of mine?” an unmistakable voice gravels from the entrance. “How lovely of you to start the speeches.” Lord Rollo’s silhouette towers in the door frame. Unlike the other court members, he is wearing a more formal version of fighting leathers. Golden clasps run down the front of his jacket. His shoulders are plated in golden armor. Around his wrists are fur cuffs wrapped with worn leather buckles. An axe weighs heavily at his waist in a holster encrusted with diamonds.

His head tilts to the side, a golden crown of thorns sitting on top of his messy raven hair, still wet as if he didn’t bother to dry after a bath. “You’ll have to save those words for the ceremony.” His malicious grin stretches the scar across his cheek.

I keep my face neutral, but my chest is heavy, the ache of dread forming low in my gut. Before it can overtake my whole body, I cling onto the last shred of hope still lingering and shelter it with all my energy. By now, my friends should have noticed that I never returned to my room. Or packed any of my things for summer break from the Watch. Or… I swear I feel the slightest tremor in the earth at the thought of him.

Of Atlys.

I never ended up meeting him at the Source springs. If there is anyone more terrifying than the Lord of the Jord, it’s the Lord of the Lowermost Underworld Territory, Soul Eater, Earth Breaker.

The small light of hope flares deep inside the cage within my chest.

The proximity of the Jord Lord startles me out of my thoughts. He takes my arm and places it in his, escorting me to the table. “You look exquisite in that dress,” he whispers, so low only I can hear.

I ignore him, already concentrating so hard on ignoring the wrongness that radiates from the spot where my arm touches his.

A gong chimes.

All of the other court members seem to understand the unspoken rule and assume their positions at the table. It takes me a while to realize that I’m only one of three total women in the court of almost twenty, including Lawrie, the woman in the black velvet dress, and another woman in a black floor length dress.

In fact, I’m the only one in red. I stand out like a drop of blood on snow.

Rollo leads us to the head of the table, where a large wingback chair awaits.

One chair.

He releases my arm. Stale air fills my lungs.

Rollo stands before his chair, makes a few unintelligible grunts and nods, then sits.

The court follows suit, taking their places at the table.

Chairs scrape against the marble. Napkins are patted against laps. Throats clear. Wine is gulped.

I remain standing like a forsaken statue. There isn’t even a plate setting set out for me—not that I would eat.

As if hearing my thoughts, Rollo says, “Come, pet. Take a seat.” He pats the arm of his chair. Summoning me like a lap dog.

Not a single hair moves on my body.

His eyes darken. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt this time, Starwatcher. I asked you to come here.”

I remain still. There is no way in all Hel—