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My eyes are lifeless, pale, and uncaring.
I am nothing but a vessel of violence and death. There isn't a single thing left for me in this wretched life. I am the harbinger of my demise.
The Angel tugs on my hair, trying to tame it. She places a silver diadem on my forehead, pushing down harshly. I don't react to the pain. Icicles sprout out from it, rising inches above my head. She places metallic tips on the points of my ears that match the crown.
The nameless Angel paints my face in silver and the palest of blues before dressing me in the finest silver fighting leathers I’ve ever seen.
They glide over my body, hugging my every curve. My mother’s emblem is on my right breast.
Earlier, I might have tried to rip it off. Earlier, I would have cared.
Now, I sit limply in the chair, letting her push and pull on me how she wills.
I stare at the mirror in front of me. I look like death personified.
I’m sure my mother will be proud.
At five minutes to midnight, all the servants leave the room. The Angel takes one last look at her masterpiece before bowing. “It will be an honor to serve you again, my lady.”
Knots twist in my stomach at her words.
Again.
I will be expected to live in this wretched place after I kill the male who loves me. Bile rises in my throat, and I hurry to the wastebasket, emptying the contents of my stomach before rinsing my mouth with water.
Somehow, I can still feel Nathan. He keeps tugging on that bond, trying to get my attention. It hurts more than anything else. He is alone here, even more so than I. His family is far away in the Summer Court.
Dear gods, his family.
I don’t even know how to get in contact with them. How will I ever tell his sister what happened? His mother? Before I delve deeper into the shame and horror of what I’m about to do, my mother appears in the doorway.
The Winter Court Queen is wearing an elaborate crown made of silver and inlaid with hundreds of blood-red diamonds. It is enormous, stretching more than a foot in the air. Beneath it, her eyes are cold, filled with cruelty. She is wearing a revealing gown made of the finest silk, the pale silver contrasting beautifully with her dark skin.
Her beauty is a mask that I can see right through. She smiles at me, beautiful and chilling, flashing her canines.
“Let’s get this over with," she says as she studies me, her tone cruel. “You brought this on yourself, you know. You should have just married Henrick when I arranged the match.”
I shudder but remain silent.
She sighs. “Have it your way. We'll talk more about this later.”
Before I can reply, she throws Iter Dust over me, and the palace fades away.
* * *
We landin the middle of the Winter Arena. Snow crunches under my feet as I fight to remain upright. The Arena is open to the night sky, but there isn’t a single star in sight. It’s so cold that I can see my breath billowing like a cloud before me.
A boom echoes off the stands before a dozen floodlights are turned on. I squint as I try to take in my surroundings. I have never seen the arena from this angle; it is far larger than I ever realized. There are thousands of seats, but most of them are empty.
I see a contingent of Mer in their aqua chairs, Were, Daemons, and Vampires filling the stadium, along with a legion of Winter Fae. A few large wings announce the presence of Angels, but there are far fewer spectators than I would have thought.
A small mercy.
“The Right of Retribution is an invitation-only event, Elva,” my mother mutters beside me. “Now be a good little Fae and do your duty to me. After this, we can talk about more comfortable living arrangements.”
I ignore her, instead watching as a flash on the other side of the arena is the only warning I get before Nathaniel materializes out of thin air.
My husband is all alone.
