Page 62 of Fallen Star

It’s metallic and thick, clawing its way into my throat and settling in my chest like a weight. I want to gag, but I force it down, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other as we move closer.

The others seem unfazed, their elegant strides unbroken. Even Aerix moves with his usual, infuriating calm, as if the blood-filled trench surrounding the palace is just another part of their nightly routine.

For them, maybe it is.

The moat is massive, and we stop at the edge, my boots skidding slightly on a particularly icy patch of ground.

The blood laps lazily against the banks, and I suspect the only thing maintaining its watery consistency is that it’s diluted with water.

Blood mixed with water—clearly representing both the vampire and the fae sides of the Night Court.

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” The king steps closer, the hem of his dark coat brushing the stone. “We call it the Crimson Tide, but it’s more than just a moat. It’s a guardian. A collector. Every drop of blood spilled in our territory finds its way here, drawn by the magic that binds this court.”

I shudder, unable to hide my revulsion. “It’s alive.”

“Of course it’s alive,” he replies, as though I’ve just stated the obvious. “It feeds on fear and death. It ensures the strength of our court. It is our legacy.”

My body shakes. Not just from the cold—it’s from fear.

I glance around, contemplating making a run for it. But the closest bridges across the moat are far enough away that the fae will catch up with me before I reach them. And if I even do manage to cross one, I know what’s waiting for me on the other side in that town.

Night fae, leering at me, wanting a taste of me.

There’s no way out.

I’m trapped.

“To give you a fair chance,” the king says, unsheathing his sword, which glistens under the light of the crescent moon, “you’ll need to shed this beautiful garment. Which was a fine choice, if I may be honest.”

“You have to be honest,” I reply, venom in my tone. “You’re fae.”

His eyes narrow, sharper than his blade.

Then, in one fluid motion, he slices through the velvet fabric with terrifying precision.

It crumples to the ground around my feet, leaving me standing in nothing but my thin chemise, the cold air sinking into my skin.

I gasp, my arms instinctively crossing over my chest.

The chemise, despite being nearly sheer, would be a modest outfit to wear at home.

Here, I feel basically naked.

Aerix steps forward, his eyes fixated on my chest.

No—not on my chest.

At the amulet that’s now visible beneath the thin chemise.

“What’s this?” he asks, and with a sharp tug, he tears it away, studying it. “Humans have no rights to magical trinkets—unless they’re gifted to them by their owner. And, since you belong to me, I’ll be holding onto it.”

“She’s not yours yet,” the king reminds him.

Aerix’s jaw tenses, but he doesn’t fight his father on it.

Then, before I can process what’s happening, the king raises his hand and blasts a gust of wind at me, driving the air from my lungs.

I’m airborne.

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