An arrow protruded out of Bree’s chest. Pain and fury ripped through Rafe as he dropped to her side. He pressed his fingers to her neck, sighing when he felt the unmistakable flicker of her pulse. She was still alive. For now.

He jerked his head up toward Taveon, who had turned a strange shade of pale white. The Prince was speechless, and he seemed frozen to his chair.

“I need to get her out of here,” Rafe said in a hurried whisper. Chaos churned through the hall. Half of the fae were delighted the slave had been shot while the other half were full of terror that they would be next. “I need to take her somewhere that I can heal her, but someone needs to go after the attacker.”

Taveon hesitated a moment longer before giving a quick nod. “Go. Heal her. I will take care of...this.”

Rafe didn’t even want to think about what the Prince faced now. Someone had shot his slave. If the arrow had gone even an inch to the right, Bree would probably be dead. He slipped his arms underneath her limp body and lifted her from the floor. Several of the Court members saw, exclaiming in shock that he would dare to move her.

“Leave the slave!” one cried out.

Another rushed forward, only blocked by the nearest guard. “The slave deserves it! Leave her to rot!”

Rafe ground his teeth together and hurried through the back entrance out of the Great Hall. He was thankful, for once, that King Midas had been so paranoid. He’d built back entrances and secret side exits in every single room he ever intended to spend time in, worried that some ambitious fae would come along and kill him on the spot to take his crown.

At the time, Rafe had thought the King was delusional. Now, he was grateful for it.

He rushed down the corridor, Bree’s body soft and warm in his arms. He risked a glance at her face, and his breath shuddered in his lungs. She was impossibly beautiful like this, peace flickering across those pixie features. He’d never seen this expression on her face until now. When she was awake, she held far too much pain on her shoulders. She was weary. She was angry. And she was sad.

And he hated that he was part of the reason she felt this way.

Taveon had been wrong to punish her like this, in front of the entire Court. He may have lied to everyone, attempting to hide the truth of her origin, but word spread fast in these lands. Somehow, others had discovered who she was and why she was here, and they wanted to put a stop to the Prince’s plans.

Rafe kicked open the door to the dungeons and jogged down the steps, keeping his arms wrapped tight around Bree’s body. It almost seemed wrong, bringing her down here, when she needed a soft bed and as many pillows as he could find. But they needed privacy to heal her, somewhere that no one could hear her screams of agony when they came.

As much as it pained him, she was going to have to endure the worst in order to survive.