Chapter Forty-Four
ABBY
DESPITE HOW brIGHT the room we spent the past several hours trapped inside was, it takes my eyes several seconds to adjust to the sunlight. I was beginning to think the gods’ realm would be a series of creepy, white rooms, but the portal leads us outdoors.
It’s midday, and we step onto a cobblestone outdoor patio. There’s a slight breeze, nothing terrible, and the sound of running water fills the space. I assume it’s coming from the giant, stone fountain fewer than twenty feet before us. There’s a statue of a woman inside it, her impeccably detailed naked body long and lean as she raises her arms over her head and lets the water rain down around her.
I eye the soft smile on her lips as I clench the fabric of my shirt, my heart pounding.
Then I turn around, my breath hitching as I realize the portal we just came through is gone. Behind us is the elegant exterior of a home. It’s made out of a reddish brick, and it looks like it came straight out of a magazine. Vines travel up the three-story building, winding up the brick and conveniently growing around the large windows. It’s a beautiful home, which feels on par for a god.
I turn back around.
The patio overlooks a cliff, and the only thing that separates the flat cobblestone and the steep drop is a black, iron fence. It stretches along the entire perimeter of the patio, giving the illusion of safety.
There are two mountains off in the distance, a larger one on the left and a smaller, more vibrant one on the right. I can’t see the valley where they meet, but given the amount of water pouring down the side of the smaller mountain, I assume it leads to a stream.
Birds—hundreds, if not thousands of them—fly between the mountains. They range in color and size, but they’re all bright enough to look fake. It’s hard to believe they aren’t animated, and I swallow past the lump in my throat as I spot four red somethings that look about three times my size soaring across the valley and disappearing over the larger mountain on the left.
This doesn’t seem real.
I stiffen, my eyes locking on a woman sitting at a small, wooden table at the far end of the patio. She’s underneath a flower and vine-covered pergola, hidden partially behind the giant fountain. Once I spot her, I can’t look away.
If it weren’t for her soft, subtle movements, I wouldn’t think she’s real.
She’s white in the truest sense of the word, and her skin is…marbled? Thin, dark lines travel across every inch of her white skin, the pattern identical to what I’d expect to see on a marble kitchen countertop.
Her facial features are delicate and her ears pointed, and I crunch my eyebrows together as I glance between her and the statue. They’re identical. She has a naked statue of herself on her patio. I can’t help but notice the statue’s skin isn’t marbled, though.
She’s wearing a long, white dress, the material blending in with her skin, and her hair is pulled out of her face in some sort of intricate knotted updo.
A platter sits on the table in front of her, and she picks at something on it before lifting her fingers to her mouth and taking a bite. Is this Zaha? It must be.
The woman picks another piece of food off the platter. She frowns as she evaluates it, her full lips curling down at the corners and her white eyebrows pulling together before she pops it into her mouth.
Behind her, standing along the fence, are five women. Their hands are clasped behind their backs and their faces cast downward, almost like they’re each a piece of furniture or decoration instead of people. Some have hair, some don’t, and they wear identical pale dresses.
None are wearing shoes.
“Is that Zaha?”
I keep my voice low, but the woman looks up as I speak, confidently meeting my gaze.
My muscles lock up. Even her eyes are white—every bit of them.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise. I don’t trust this, and I’m getting the odd feeling that she can read my mind or sense something about me that I’m not looking to give. This is Zaha. I feel it in every inch of my being.
The woman’s lips twitch, only furthering my budding suspicions that she can read my thoughts or something equally invasive, before she shifts her gaze to Kie.
The faerie prince is standing on my left, and he remains perfectly still as Zaha takes her time looking him over. I’d pay good money to know what she’s thinking. She doesn’t necessarily seem upset or annoyed by our arrival, but she also doesn’t seem excited to see Kie.
Her lips purse slightly as she slides her gaze toward Mason. The shifter is on my right, and unlike Kie, he doesn’t stand still as Zaha silently evaluates him. He shifts his weight from leg to leg, his arm brushing against my shoulder as he waits for her to finish.
I half-expect him to say something snarky, but for once, he’s able to have some self-control and remain quiet. After what feels like an eternity, Zaha gestures for us to approach.
Kie’s the first to move, and he places his infuriating hand on my back so I can’t linger behind, as I typically prefer. I wish to remain where I am, but then I take one more look at the line of women standing behind Zaha and move forward without complaint.
I’m assuming these are her slaves.
They seem docile, so maybe Kie wasn’t lying when he said I should be on my best behavior. I’m not getting the impression that any of these women speak up or argue, and I don’t like the idea of being trained .
Mason walks alongside us, his arm brushing my shoulder with every movement.
I don’t know why he feels the need to be so close to me, and I’m barely resisting the urge to shove him aside. If he keeps this close, I’ll be left with no choice but to follow through on my plan to shove my bare fingers into his mouth.
I’d do it if we weren’t being hawk-eyed by Zaha. I might also be tempted to tell Mason to back off and that he stinks.
We’ve been walking through the forest for days, and I bet it wouldn’t be hard to convince him that he smells. He may have washed himself earlier, but it wasn’t a true bath. I want to make Mason insecure, and I’m annoyed I didn’t think to do this earlier. I should’ve done it while we were waiting in that crisp, sterile white room.
A little humbling would be good for him. Kie, too.
I follow Kie’s lead, walking forward until the large fountain is behind us and we’re fewer than five steps from Zaha. There’s an empty chair opposite her, but nobody moves to sit and she doesn’t offer.
She probably likes making her guests stand. I bet it’s a power thing.
“Interesting,” Zaha says, looking the three of us over. “When I saw you’d taken the human captive, I wasn’t anticipating this outcome.”
I recoil, my mind running blank. She knew Kie and Mason had taken me hostage? Has she been watching us? The thought sends a shiver down my spine. What else does she know? What else has she seen?
Kie and Mason do not react to her admittance, almost as if they already knew. Kie has made offhand comments about how the gods view the faerie realm as entertainment, and maybe this is what he meant. Are the gods always watching?
Fuck, that’s a terrifying thought.
Zaha glances at her nails, inspecting them with a quiet tut before waving over one of her slaves. It’s the first time they’ve been addressed, and I carefully observe as one with long, black hair smoothly walks forward and comes to stand directly alongside Zaha.
Nobody speaks, and after a long moment, the woman nods and makes her way inside the house. I try not to look too freaked out. Zaha is definitely able to read minds. I just know it.
Kie’s fingers twitch where they press against my spine. It’s a nervous action. I’m one-hundred-percent confident in that, but I have a feeling that if I looked at his face, I’d see it perfectly calm. He’s the crowned prince, and I bet he’s been trained to hide his emotions.
Mason’s probably not as good at it.
He’s the more volatile of the two, and he has some severe impulse issues he desperately needs to work through. For the faeries’ sake, I hope he’s seeing a highly qualified therapist. I can’t imagine trusting somebody like him to rule alongside Kie.
He’d have one bad day and start a war.
Zaha picks at another piece of food on her platter. Now that we’re closer, I see she’s eating oiled bread. There’s an entire Mediterranean spread in front of her, and it looks fucking delicious. I’d kill for something with flavor, and I lick my lips as I eye her food.
She’s only going for the bread, but I'd devour the olives if I were in her place. I’m tired of meat and nuts.
Kie’s fingers tap against my spine again. I expected him to launch into some long, drawn-out speech, and I’m honestly confused about why he’s standing here silently watching Zaha eat. It’s probably some weird respect thing, and it’s painfully awkward.
Zaha extends one thin, marbled finger toward Mason. “Why did you bring the shifter with you?”
Kie sucks his cheeks into his mouth. “I—”
“Bringing the great-grandson of the man who kidnapped, tortured, and raped my little sister is an interesting decision,” she continues, interrupting Kie. “Some would even consider it a mistake.”
I press my lips together, fighting back a smile.
This isn’t going well. I’m so pleased. Kie deserves to have this meeting blow up in his face, and I hope Zaha decides Kie and Mason should be left to rot and die in that white box she calls a sitting room.
Kie blows out a slow breath. “Mason is to rule beside me, and he had no part in Alpha Caspian’s choices. He deserves to be here.”
“Is that so?” Zaha cocks her head to the side. “You truly intend to share your title with him?”
Her lips twitch, and she lets out a curt laugh before shifting her attention behind us. The long-haired woman she sent away earlier returns with a drinking glass, and she sets it in front of Zaha before hurrying back to her spot along the wall. The glass is short and stout, and it’s filled with some sort of thick, dark-red liquid. It looks like wine.
I hope it’s wine.
Kie nods. “I do.”
He says nothing else, and Zaha sips her drink before preparing another piece of oiled bread. She takes her sweet time chewing it, and only once she’s finished does she speak again.
“ Interesting decision .” She shifts her gaze toward Mason. “And you plan to accept?”
Mason nods. “I do.”
Zaha shakes her head and lets out another short laugh. I’m interested to know what she finds so funny. Maybe she sees through Mason’s lies. He’s clearly proud of his heritage, and I honestly doubt he’ll put the faeries first.
Kie’s dumb to give Mason access to so much power. I wouldn’t if I were in his position.
I bet he’s only doing this because of their forked bond. I couldn’t imagine giving a man who hates my people the title of King, and Kie’s only doing it because of some mysterious bond he shares with a woman he’s never even met.
I’m sad I won’t be around to witness it blow up in their faces. I’m sure it’ll be beautiful.
I adjust my stance, wanting this conversation to move along. I don’t really care what happens to Kie and Mason, and I want them to get to the topic of me. I want to know what my future holds, and after days of anticipation and unknown, I’m getting antsy.
Zaha gestures toward me.
“And the human?” she asks. “Why is she here?”