Shortly after dawn, Taveon came for Bree again. It only took one look at the dress in his hands to understand what he had planned for her this particular morning. She hated that she never knew what was coming, but she felt as though she couldn’t complain. She’d just spent at least fifteen hours locked up in this cell, the time only broken by the delivery of food every few hours.

Terrible food that tasted like ass.

“Get up,” the Prince barked when he reached her cell. He unlocked the door, threw in the dress, and whirled on his feet to face away from her. Frowning, Bree grabbed the dress from the grimy floor. He seemed grumpier than usual, and that was saying something.

“What bug got up your ass this morning?”

“Honestly, Bree. I do not understand a word that comes out of your mouth.”

“Why are you in such a shitty mood?”

“That is none of your concern.” His back rippled as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, get dressed. I do not have time to waste waiting for you.”

With a roll of her eyes, Bree quickly changed out of her dirty prison clothes and into the clean blue dress. It was a soft, luxurious fabric that whispered across her skin and clung to her every curve. The Prince had even brought a brush today, and she quickly ran it through her long dark hair. She could almost feel pretty like this—and free—and so far away from the beast she was within.

But it was all just an illusion.

And it was a feeling that vanished the second she stepped out of her cell, the metal wrist braces snapping tight around her skin once again.

Prince Taveon was silent as he led Bree up the stairs and into the castle above the dungeons. She risked a glance his way, curiosity niggling in her mind. Sure, he was usually pretty grouchy, but this was something else. He was practically seething, and she didn’t think it was directed at her for once. Had something gone wrong? Was someone else jostling for the crown?

She was desperate to know, but there was no way in hell he’d share the information. And he’d probably march her right back down the stairs if she kept prying.

“So, are we going for a walk again?” she tried.

“That is obvious, is it not?” he merely replied.

She rolled her eyes. “Well, I assumed you didn’t want me training in a dress, but who knows? I don’t know how this Court works.”

“You will be training in your fighting leathers.”

Your fighting leathers, Bree couldn’t help but notice. So, those clothes were officially hers. There was something so final about how that sounded. So permanent. There were clothes that belonged to her. Almost as if this place were now her home.

She wrinkled her nose at the thought. “You can’t keep me here forever, you know.”

“I can, and I will,” he said in a sharp voice. “Once you have won me my crown, then you will be assigned to the task of generating energy for the Dark Fae. This is not a temporary need. We require this energy to survive. Forever.”

She bristled, anger now roiling through her once again. “You seriously can’t expect me to kill people for the rest of eternity.”

“You will not be killing them.”

She balled her hands into fists. “I might as well be. And hell, death is probably a better fate than what you have planned for them. Turning them all into vicious monsters that can’t control themselves.”

“I do not have time for this,” Prince Taveon said with a dismissive tone in his voice. “You will do what I say, whether you approve of the methods or not. That is what being my slave means, Bree Paine. It does not mean you have any input into how I run my Court.”

“Well, it’s not yours to run yet,” Bree said in a snap. “First, you’ll need to win the damn champion fight thing. And hey, maybe I’ll lose.”

Bree had been unable to do anything other than tiny, rebellious little acts since she’d been captured, but an idea had sparked in her mind during their conversation. She might be forced to fight for him, but that didn’t mean she had to win. Or even that she had to try to win. She could lose the fight and lose him the crown.

It would serve him right.

The Prince flashed her a frown. “You do understand that this is a fight to the death, yes? It is why the prospects for the crown do not fight for themselves. The loser perishes.”

Bree’s mouth snapped shut as she gaped at the Prince and how easily he’d tossed out his words as if they were meaningless. As if her life did not matter.

“Fight to the death?” She stopped short in her tracks, her chains jangling with the sudden movement. “You can’t be serious. This is some kind of joke.”

“I do not joke, Bree.”

She ground her teeth together, fire licking the insides of her stomach. “You’re really going to do that? Force me to fight for my life? You do know that if I die, I can’t do this energy thing you want me to do, right? If I die, you can’t fix the Tithe?”

“Yes, I do realize that,” he said with narrowed eyes. “That is why you must train. You must make certain you can win this fight.”

“I can’t believe it.” Bree threw up her hands, her chains rattling even harder. The sound caught the attention of a few fae clustered at the end of the hallway. She recognized one of them. That strange, unnerving fae she’d met the last time the Prince had taken her on a walk. Some kind of Lord. He twisted her way at the sound, his eyes sparking with something dangerous when he saw who had made the noise.

“Be quiet,” the Prince said in a low, dangerous voice. “You mustn’t cause a scene in front of other Court members.”

“Or what?” She crossed her arms over her chest, the sleeves of the dress dropping away to reveal the chains. “You’ll force me to do something dangerous, like, I don’t know, fight to the death?”

The Prince frowned and flicked his eyes down the hallway. Bree’s lips curled. He didn’t want the others to overhear this conversation. He didn’t want to be embarrassed in front of them. He was nervous that she’d make some kind of scene, one that would reflect badly on him.

A strange smile spread across Bree’s face. If she were smart, she wouldn’t give in to the urge. She would fall silent and do as she was told.

But her hatred and anger for him took over her mind.

“I will not fight to the death for you!” she loudly proclaimed. And then she kicked him right in the knee.

Everything went black.

* * *

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Rafferty murmured as Bree moaned, and she squinted against the bright glow of a hundred tiny lights. Her vision began to clear, bringing her surroundings into focus. She was in some kind of dining hall. Hundreds of sconces lined the walls, highlighting the five long tables that stretched across the massive stone space.

Bree twisted, her cheek brushing against the ground. She was on the floor, lying next to...a pair of silver boots. She looked up. A pair of boots that belonged to the Prince. He glared down at her, eyes sparking with that intense hatred of his.

Rafferty knelt by her side, frowning.

“Where am I?” Bree asked. “What’s going on?”

“You are in the Great Hall. The Court has just had their evening feast. You are the...entertainment for the evening.” Rafe winced and glanced up at the Prince. “Is this really necessary, Taveon?”

Bree couldn’t help but notice that the Prince did not correct his friend’s lack of title when addressing him.

“Honor demands punishment when a slave does not show the proper respect toward members of the royal family.”

Rafe’s face clouded over, and he dropped his voice to a whisper. “This is not honor, Taveon.”

“Rafe.” The Prince hissed. “Do not question me on this. It must be done.”

Rafe fell silent, and then sighed as he helped Bree stand.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” she repeated, frowning out at the dozens of eyes that were now focused right on Bree’s face. Lord Dagen was among them, sitting right in front with his hands clasped across this chest. Bree glanced at Rafe, trying to understand what the hell was happening.

Rafe gave her a strained smile. “Unfortunately, the Court was witness to an attack on the Prince by you, Bree Paine. The crown demands punishment when members of the royal family have been wronged. The Prince has chosen...well, you are to dance for the Court.”

Bree nodded, swallowing hard. She had to admit that it was a strange punishment, one that was mortifying but not particularly terrible. She would have conjured a million different types of Dark Fae punishment rather than this. Scrubbing floors. Having hair pulled out one by one. But dancing? That didn’t seem all that bad.

“Until you collapse from exhaustion,” Rafe added. “You will not be allowed to pause, and you will not be allowed food or drink until your legs have buckled and you can no longer stand.”

A chill went through her. Okay, so this punishment wasn’t quite as harmless as she’d thought.

Prince Taveon pushed back his chair and stood. “I am certain many of you are curious about this girl I have brought before you.” He gazed around the expansive room. “This is Bree Paine, a slave I found during my travels through the Forest of Fireflies.”

Frowning, Bree glanced at Rafe who turned his back toward the crowd and placed a single finger on his lips. How strange. Bree had never heard of the Forest of Fireflies but it must be a place found in the Dark Fae’s realm. Which meant the Prince did not want the rest of his Court to know where she truly came from. But why?

“As a new slave, this creature does not understand her place in this castle.”

“Creature?” Bree asked, her eyebrows shooting to the top of her forehead.

Rafe winced, and the entire Court roared in response to her outburst. Their faces were twisted up in anger. Some even jumped from their chairs, pumping their fists in the air.

Taveon’s face went grave. “Ah, a perfect example of what I mean. She has a temper and a tendency for outbursts. She will be punished tonight, so that she must learn her place.”

Bree’s heart pounded in her chest. She’d known that the Prince was an absolute monster, and his little speech only confirmed that fact. How dare he call her a creature? How dare he make her dance in front of all these chanting Dark Fae? Were they all monsters, like the Prince? Was Rafe the only decent fae in this Court? She was beginning to believe so.

The Prince turned to Bree then, his dark eyes glittering underneath the overhead chandelier—one that held dozens of tiny flaming candles. “Now, dance.”

She glared at him. Everything within her wanted to rebel against his command. Despite what he thought, she was not his to order around. She was not some sort of creature to do with as he pleased.

“Go on, Bree,” Rafe said, whispering into her ear. He stood and moved away, crossing his arms over his chest and turning away from the spectacle. Prince Taveon didn’t seem to care that his closest friend was helping his slave or that he didn’t appear to want to watch the punishment.

But everyone else sure did.

Bree could feel every eye of the room on her, collective breath held. They probably wanted to see her bite back again. They probably hoped she’d give the Prince even more of a reason to punish her. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

Slowly, she walked forward on legs that trembled underneath her. The Prince nodded to the female fae who sat next to him, and she quickly moved over to a harp that stood taller than even Bree. When the female slid her fingers across the strings, a strange melodic tune filled the air.

And Bree’s body instinctively yearned to dance. It was a strange sensation, almost as though her mind and her body were at war. Her arms began to shift through the air, and her feet stomped in time with the music. Her body twirled around the platform, swaying from side to side as her mind drifted away with the music.

She felt light and free and alive, and the entire world dropped away. The sound of the harp filled her mind, the colors of the hall blurring into nothing but vague shapes and dim lights. Her world became the music and the dance, her heart throbbing painfully in her chest.

And then her feet began to ache, her mind growing blurry. She could not stop, not even if she wanted to. She had to keep moving. On and on and on she went.

How long had she been at it now? Some of the blurry lights had begun to dim, and that strange distant murmur of conversation grew quieter and quieter and quieter until Bree felt as though she were the only soul in the entire world.

Her chest felt tight when she breathed in at the break of a song. She stumbled to a stop. It was so very quiet. Her soul ached for more of that music, of that blinding brilliant madness that yearned to take over her body once again.

“Bree.” It was a familiar voice, one she struggled to place. A soothing, deep melodic voice that made her yearn for sleep. Her feet pounded from the pain. How long had it been since she sat down?

She twisted toward the voice as he said her name again, and that was when her vision caught on a figure at the back of a hall now only filled with a handful of fae.

A cloaked figure, one drenched in shadows. She squinted as she stared at him. She was certain it was a him. Probably. It was impossible to tell with all the buzzing in her head.

“Look at that...” She raised an arm to point across the hallway at the cloaked figure that aimed a nocked arrow right in her direction.

And then a whoosh went through the hushed hall. Bree’s eyes widened just a split second before the arrow hit its mark. The sharp tip sunk into her shoulder, and pain rocked through her core.

Bree tipped back and fell onto the floor. Eyes wide, she stared up at the ceiling. Darkness crept into her vision, and she tried to blink it away. Didn’t the darkness know that she needed to dance?

She needed to dance.

Her feet needed to move.

Rafe’s face appeared in her vision, and she cracked a strange smile. It felt like years since she’d seen his handsome face. “I need to dance.”

“Taveon, snap her out of the spell.” Rafe’s voice was low and gravelly and far too angry. She reached up and touched his face, still smiling.

“The spell is done,” a distant voice said.

And then everything went black.