Page 56 of Fallen Star

“Not bad,” one says, circling me slowly. “You clean up well.”

The other fae steps forward, her expression more scrutinizing.

In a flash, she reaches for my dress and yanks at the neckline, rearranging it so it dips dangerously low.

I jerk back instinctively, pulling the dress back up so I’m not at risk of popping right out of it.

Not to mention the fact that I’ve buried the amulet of warmth as close to the bottom of my breasts as possible. The only thing keeping it there is the dress’s tight bodice.

Any lower of a neckline, and the amulet might become visible.

The fae woman shakes her head and gives me a pointed look. “You’re here to please, human,” she says, challenge in her dark, midnight eyes. “Don’t forget that.”

My stomach twists.

Because it’s my blood. I know that’s what they want. What else could they want?

Well, there are definitely some other things they might want. But I’m not going to let myself go there. At least, not yet. It’s far too much to process at once.

The only thing I have to do right now is get through tonight.

“Follow us,” the other woman commands, already turning toward the door.

Once we’re out of the human wing, the maze of halls seems designed to disorient. Every turn reveals another identical hallway of black and crimson marble floors, floating chandeliers, and mirrored walls, until I’m totally lost.

Finally, we reach a set of doors that tower at least thirty feet high.

“The throne room,” the servant who didn’t touch my dress—the nicer one—tells me. “Remember—keep your eyes down. Speak only when spoken to. And when you do speak, keep it brief.”

“Not exactly my strong point,” I mutter.

“Then make it one.” She places a hand on the door and pushes it open, revealing an enormous throne room.

It has the same black and crimson marble floors as everywhere else in the Night Court so far, but there are also thick columns lining the walls, and a ceiling is so high that it’s like staring into space itself. Giant crystal chandeliers float at various heights above, although the edges of their crystals are sharp and tinged with red, as if coated with blood. Most strikingly, there’s a thin crescent moon hanging above them—which is the moon phase we’re in right now—its pale light casting a gentle glow over the windowless room.

And there, at the top of a raised platform at the far end of the room, are the thrones.

Six of them, arranged in a crescent.

Five of them are occupied.

The fae sitting on them wear flowing fabrics that shimmer and shift like liquid moonlight and blood, their black feathery wings spread behind them in a display of power. Their eyes, dark and predatory, sweep over me with varying degrees of curiosity and disinterest, as if I’m a piece of art up for auction.

I try not to flinch under their collective gaze, but it’s impossible not to feel like prey in front of a pack of predators.

Probably because Iamprey in front of a pack of predators.

The one in the center speaks first.

“Come forward.”

My feet move before I can think, carrying me closer until I’m standing in front of them, although the steps leading up to the thrones put them at a much higher level than where I’m standing right now.

“Welcome to the Night Court,” he says. “I am King Thanatos.”

He’s dressed in black and crimson, his shoulders draped in a shimmering, inky cloak. His dark brown hair flows over his shoulders, and his eyes are the same midnight color I’ve come to realize is shared byallnight fae.

Authority radiates off him, but I keep my eyes locked on his.

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