Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Darius
A knock sounded at my bedroom door. Rabbit opened it.
"Her Majesty has sent over a specially made suit for her betrothed," a guard announced.
Betrothed. The word made my stomach turn.
Rabbit took the garment bag and closed the door. He turned to me, his face pale, his eyes filled with the same guilt that had haunted him since the grotto.
"Darius..." He unzipped the bag and pulled out the suit like it was poisoned.
Pink. A ridiculous, garish pink.
Like I would ever wear pink.
But it was Alanna’s favorite color. And I was her favorite slave. Her puppet. Her pet.
Tonight at sunset, I would stand before her court dressed in pink like some prize she'd won at a carnival.
I was trapped. End of story.
I shook my head. “God, she’s a bitch.” I grabbed a bottle of Black Smoke and took a long swig.
Rabbit hung the suit on a gold rack. “I’m… I’m… so sorry.”
I leaned the bottle against my forehead. “The only thing that matters is that Alice is safe.”
I meant it. I'd do it all again. But god, it hurt.
“The queen gave her word on that?”
“Yeah, she did.”
Silence stretched between us. The kind of silence that weighs heavy with things unsaid.
Rabbit sank onto the edge of a chair, his hands clasped between his knees. He looked older than he had days ago. Broken in ways that went deeper than exhaustion.
"I don't know if they're alive. Marcus is only seven. The girls—three and five. They're just babies, Darius. And I can't—" He pressed his fist against his mouth, swallowing a sob. "I can't stop imagining what the mines are doing to them. The darkness. The ore. The madness."
My chest tightened. I took another swig of Black Smoke. The burn felt like punishment. Like I deserved it.
"How did we get here, Rabbit?" I stared at the ceiling. "How did she win?"
"She didn't win,” he said. “Not yet. Not as long as we're still breathing."
I let out a bitter laugh. "I'm about to marry her. Alice is locked in a dungeon. Your children are in the Shadowsteel mines. Tell me how that's not winning."
Rabbit had no answer. Neither did I.
I set down the bottle and stood. My legs felt heavy. My whole body felt heavy.
"Help me get dressed." The words tasted like grave dust. "Let's get this over with."
I leaned against the bathroom door jamb as Rabbit filled up the tub. Steam curled into the air, fogging the mirror. I took another swig of Black Smoke before stepping into the scalding water.
Fuck. I was the sacrificial lamb. Dressed up pretty for the slaughter.
Rabbit washed my hair, scrubbed my back. I sat there numbly, staring at nothing.
I could escape. I could race out of here right now—knock Rabbit aside, tear through the guards, unfurl my wings, and fly. I was fast. Strong. I'd escaped from Alanna before.
But I couldn't get to Alice. The dungeon was too deep, too guarded. And she wasn't the only one. Flint. Steel. Bunny and her children, all rotting in the Shadowsteel mines.
I couldn't get them out of here. Not alone. I didn't possess any magical powers. No way to unlock cells or break curses or stop time.
All I had was myself. And I'd already traded that away.
I got out of the tub and dried myself off. I caught my reflection in the mirror and barely recognized the man staring back.
Death warmed over. Hollow eyes. Gaunt cheeks. A shell of who I used to be.
Why the fuck did Alanna even want me? She didn't love me. She wasn't capable of love. She just wanted my damn hat. My power. Another trophy to hang on her wall.
I braced my hands against the counter, my head hanging low.
"I don't know how I'm going to get through this, Rabbit." I couldn’t meet his eyes in the mirror. "She's..."
"I know what she is." Rabbit appeared in the doorway, the pink suit draped over his arm. His eyes met mine in the mirror. "We all do."
He helped me get dressed in silence. The shirt was pure silk—clinging to my skin like a second layer I didn't want. I never wore silk. It wasn't my style.
Alanna knew that. She just didn't care.
The pants and jacket were stiff, constricting. I turned to face the mirror.
"I look like a flamingo."
Rabbit's lips twitched—almost a smile. "The color is... unfortunate."
"The color is a fucking insult."
I glanced out the window. The sun was sinking toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and crimson. Blood red. How fitting.
Soon it would be sunset. Soon I would belong to Alanna forever.
My chest tightened. I thought of Alice—her smile, her laugh, the way she'd looked at me like I was something worth saving. I'd never see that look again. She'd spend the rest of her life believing I'd betrayed her.
And maybe that was for the best. Maybe hating me would make it easier for her to move on. To live.
Another knock at the door shattered my thoughts.
Rabbit opened it, his hand trembling on the handle. "He's ready."
Two guards stood in the hallway dressed in formal crimson attire. Gold buttons. Polished boots. Like this was a celebration instead of an execution.
"You'll come with us," one of them said. It wasn't a request.
I took one last look in the mirror. The flamingo in pink stared back at me. Hollow. Defeated.
This was it.
I grabbed my hat—the only piece of me Alanna couldn't take—and placed it on my head.
"Let's get this over with."
The guards escorted me down the corridor then through a back entrance into the throne room.
I stopped dead.
Seriously?
Pink. Every shade of pink imaginable assaulted my eyes.
Blush pink balloons floated near the ceiling, trailing ribbons that swayed like dancing ghosts.
Hot pink streamers spiraled down the marble columns.
Sparkling stars glittered overhead, suspended by invisible threads, casting rosy light across everything.
Fountains bubbled with pink liquid—champagne? Punch? Poison? At this point, I wouldn't be surprised by any of them.
Giant roses made of silk bloomed from every corner, their petals so oversized they looked like they belonged in a fever dream.
Pink candles flickered on tiered candelabras shaped like flamingos.
Even the carpet beneath my feet was pink—a plush runner leading straight to the altar where Alanna waited.
It looked like a bottle of Queen's Blush had exploded and vomited all over the room.
This wasn't a wedding. It was a nightmare wrapped in cotton candy.
I forced myself to walk up on the podium where the Keeper of Vows stood. The Keeper of Vows binds magical unions. Once the vow was made, it couldn’t be broken. My legs felt like lead. Each step was a nail in my coffin.
The music began to play—a sweeping, grandiose waltz.
It might as well have been a funeral march.
The double doors swung open, and a collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
Ari led Alanna into the room. Her pet playing escort. How fitting.
She wore an extravagant wedding dress that seemed to swallow the light around her.
Layer upon layer of pink silk and tulle cascaded to the floor like a waterfall of rose petals.
Pink pearls dripped from the bodice, the sleeves, the impossibly long train that trailed behind her.
A veil of delicate lace framed her face, dotted with tiny diamonds that sparkled with every step.
Her dark hair was piled high atop her head, woven with more pearls and pink roses. A tiara—because of course there was a tiara—glittered at her crown.
She looked like a princess from a twisted fairy tale. Beautiful and terrible all at once.
Her crimson lips curved into a triumphant smile as her cold blue eyes found mine.
This was her moment. Her victory.
And I was the prize.