Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Darius
Alice pushed a lock of hair out of her face, her hand shaking. “Unfortunately, yes, I know him.”
Her eyes looked haunted. Ari must have left his mark on her.
“You’ve had run-ins with him?”
She sighed deeply, her shoulders curling inward. “Too many times to count. He wanted to conquer us. Enslave us.” Her gaze drifted to the window, lost somewhere far away. “It was a brutal fight. We almost lost everything.”
“How did he get back here?”
“Enzo Di Salvo almost killed him. He’s the Santi family’s vampire enforcer.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “But Ari—”
“Is a slippery eel,” I finished. “Found a way to save his own skin?”
“Yes.” She bit her lip, blinking hard. “Joy was devastated when Ari escaped through the portal. All she could think about was you. And Brynn. Joy was hoping you got her out of the castle.”
The hope in her eyes. God, it nearly broke me.
“No.” I forced the word out. “She’s too heavily guarded. I didn’t have the means, the men.” I shook my head. “Not even Rabbit knows where the queen is keeping her now.”
Alice’s face fell. “So she’s still a prisoner.”
“Yes.” The word was a stone in my throat. “I made her a promise. I told her I’d come back for her.”
A promise I’d failed to keep. Just like all the others.
“Do you think she’s even still alive?”
I closed my eyes. The question I asked myself every single day.
“The queen is vicious.” My throat tightened. “She could be dead. She could be wishing she was dead.” I turned away. “I don’t know. I’ve tried not to think about it. Because if I do—”
I couldn’t finish.
I needed to get back to my post. Needed to get out of this room. The walls were closing in, the air too thick, Brynn’s face swimming behind my eyes.
“Darius—”
The name should have felt like a wound. Instead it felt like something else. Something I wasn’t ready to name.
“Get some sleep.” I didn’t look back. “I’ll be in the other room.”
I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, breathing hard. I half expected her to let me go. To let me wallow in the ghosts I’d stirred up.
Then I heard a soft knock on the door.
Of course she wouldn’t.
I opened it. Alice stood there, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders like armor. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face pale. She looked small. Lost.
“I can’t sleep in there.” Her voice wavered. “Every time I close my eyes, I see her. I see the fire.”
My chest tightened.
“Can I sleep on the couch? I promise I won’t distract you. I just—” She hugged the blanket tighter. “I don’t want to be alone.”
How could I tell her no? Even if being near her cracked open every wound I’d tried to bury.
I gestured with my arm toward the couch.
She brushed past me, and that scent filled my lungs. Fresh air and something floral—like a meadow high in the mountains after rain.
My chest ached. I knew that smell. From before. From home.
Somewhere the Elder Dimension hadn’t touched yet. But the memory slipped away before I could catch it.
Alice stretched out on the couch, pulling the blanket to her chin. “Do you think Ari will find us?”
“Maybe. Probably.” I kept my eyes on the street below. Empty. Too empty. The quiet made my skin crawl.
“Will he torture Flint and Steel to get them to talk?”
My jaw tightened. Torture was an art form in the queen’s castle. Ari had mastered it long ago.
“He’ll torture them. So will the queen.” I pressed my palm against the cold window. “But the twins won’t break. They’d die first.”
“What happens if they don’t talk?”
The question hung in the air. I didn’t want to answer. Didn’t want to say it out loud.
“She’ll execute them.” My voice came out flat. Dead. “Publicly. To send a message.”
A message meant for me. I knew exactly what the queen was doing—dangling my men in front of me, daring me to come for them. I could picture it already. The crowd. The platform. The blade. My hands curled into fists. She wanted me to watch them die. She wanted me broken.
She was going to be disappointed.
“That’s terrible,” Alice said. “What are we going to do?”
I stared at the empty street. At the shadows where Ari had stood.
What could we do? Storm the castle with no army? Trade myself for my men?
“I don’t know yet.” The words tasted like failure. “But I won’t let them die for me.”
Silence stretched between us. I thought she’d fallen asleep until her voice came softly from the couch.
“How long do people live here?”
I turned from the window. “Excuse me?”
She was staring at the ceiling, the blanket clutched to her chest. “In my nightmare, my mother said the king’s assassin found us. That was eighteen years ago.” She swallowed. “Do you think he’s still alive?”
“The Dark Fae have long lifespans. Much longer than humans.” I studied her face. She looked haunted—pale, hollow-eyed, like the nightmare hadn’t quite released its grip on her yet. “He could still be alive. Easily.”
She sat up slowly, something hardening in her eyes.
“Do you know anyone who kills by fire?”
The question landed heavy in the room.
She wasn’t just processing the nightmare. She was hunting.
I understood the impulse. But a vengeful witch with unstable magic chasing a Dark Fae assassin? That was a complication I didn’t need—not when I had my own men to save.
I shrugged. “Anyone can kill by fire. A flaming arrow. A flammable liquid. Anything.”
She shook her head, sitting up straighter. “I don’t think it was that simple.” She pulled the blanket tighter. “According to Tinker Bell, it was supernatural fire.”
“How would she know?”
“She’s a powerful witch herself. She can sense dark magic.” Alice met my eyes. “Whatever killed my parents—whoever killed them—it wasn’t human. It wasn’t normal. And if they’re still alive...”
She didn’t finish. She didn’t need to.
I turned back to the window, my mind racing.
A Dark Fae assassin who killed with magical fire. Sent by King Cormac eighteen years ago. To murder a child.
What had Alice’s family done to warrant that kind of death sentence?
“According to your dream, it seemed like the assassin wanted you and your father.”
“But he killed my father.” Her voice cracked. “He said so.”
“He said your husband is dead. That doesn’t mean it was true.” I met her eyes. Pain and hope warred across her face—neither one winning. “You can’t trust anything people say in the Elder Dimension. Especially if they’re evil.”
Her eyes widened. “You think he could be alive?”
The hope in her voice—it was a fragile thing. I didn’t want to crush it. But I couldn’t feed it either.
“He could be.” I let out a slow breath. “Or he could be dead. I’m sorry. I don’t know.”
She stared at the floor, processing. A father she never knew. A mother she just watched burn. And now a sliver of possibility that everything she believed was wrong.
“I need to find out,” she whispered. “I need to know the truth.”
If her father was alive, he could be anywhere—the queen’s dungeon, Ari’s clutches, or lost somewhere in this realm. Finding him would mean chasing ghosts through enemy territory.
“The truth can be dangerous—as you just found out.”
“But it’s better than being in the dark.” She pulled her knees to her chest. “I’ve never known anything about my past. No matter how hard I tried. Not even Tinker Bell could find answers.” Her voice trembled. “It’s horrible not knowing where you come from.”
I understood that more than she knew.
“But you knew your mother was a Ravencrest.”
“Just her name. Not how she died. Not why.” Alice looked up at me, tears glistening. “And I knew nothing about my father. Nothing. Until the hat unlocked my memories.”
She wiped her eyes. “As much as I hated what you did to me—it gave me something I’ve wanted my whole life.”
Words failed me.
She was extraordinary. Broken by the worst night of her life and yet still searching for hope.
She reminded me of Joy. Joy had kept her faith even in the queen’s dungeon. Even when I couldn’t free her. Even when I failed her.
I’d told myself I’d done everything I could. It was a lie I’d never quite believed.
She curled up on the couch, her eyes on me as if expecting an answer.
I had none.
I turned back to the window, scanning the street for any sign of Ari or the queen’s men. Empty. For now.
Someone who killed with dark magic. Fire that wasn’t ordinary fire. The queen, Ari, her soldiers—I couldn’t think of anyone with that power.
My vision blurred with pain. Another memory trying to claw its way to the surface. Alice was doing it again—unlocking doors I’d sealed shut.
There was always a cost.
I stole a glance at the couch. She’d slumped down, the blanket pulled to her chin. Her lashes rested against her cheeks, and a soft snore escaped her lips.
The ache in my skull dulled. Strange, how looking at her did that. She looked peaceful. Soft. Nothing like the fierce woman who’d pushed back against me, who’d kissed me like she meant it.
Three kisses. I’d kissed her three times tonight.
The first in the alley—a distraction, I’d told myself. A way to hide from the guards. But the way she’d melted into me had been anything but practical.
The second to apologize for what the hat had done. Soft. Tentative. Begging for forgiveness I didn’t deserve.
The third because her tears had undone me. Because I couldn’t bear to watch her break.
I hadn’t kissed anyone since before the dungeon. Hadn’t wanted to. The queen had stripped everything from me—my memories, my freedom, my ability to feel anything but rage and fear.
But when Alice looked at me, something cracked open.
She made me want to remember. Made me want to be the man I used to be.
And that terrified me more than the queen ever could.
I pushed the thought aside and watched her breathe.
Good. She needed sleep. Real sleep—not the kind haunted by burning houses and screaming mothers.
Hopefully the hat was done with her for tonight.
I turned back to the window. I needed sleep too—my body ached for it—but rest was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Not with my men’s lives on the line.
Movement. Someone slipping through the street, hugging the shadows.
My blood went cold. I recognized that hunched figure. Carpenter.
He ducked into an alley. I pressed closer to the glass, barely breathing.
Someone was waiting for him. Someone with red eyes that glowed in the darkness.
Ari.
Carpenter bowed his head. Subservient. Reporting.
No.
My hands curled into fists, nails biting into my palms.
We’d been betrayed.