Page 63 of Fallen Star

My stomach flips, and I crash into the bloody water in the center of the moat.

Thick, metallic water floods my nose and throat, and I sputter, kicking out wildly.

No—not just water.

Blood.

I’m in a moat full ofblood.

I can’t breathe. Can’t think. All I can feel is the suffocating pressure of the water closing in around me.

I kick harder now, trying to force my way back to the surface, but it’s no use. Not only do I not know how to move, but the cold is so numbing that I feel more sluggish by the second. Plus, there’s also the sinking horror of the fact that I’m in a moat full ofblood.

I could just stop,a traitorous thought whispers in my mind.Let the water take me. Sink into its depths and escape whatever cruel fate the Night Court has planned for me. It would be better than becoming their plaything—their pet to torment, drink from, and do who knows what else to me at their will.

But no. I refuse to die like this.

So, I thrash harder, my arms and legs aching as I fight to break the surface. But it’s useless. Every kick feels futile, the water dragging me down like it has a will of its own.

Fight,I tell myself.Just keep fighting.

But my strength is failing. My chest is about to explode.

Just as my vision starts to fade, strong arms wrap around my waist, pulling me upward with impossible speed.

My head breaks the surface.

I gasp, choking on air and water, and then I’m sprawled on the icy ground at the king’s feet, coughing and shaking, drenched and freezing.

The previously white chemise is now a nearly transparent red from the water, leaving nothing to the imagination as I lay exposed before the entire royal family, drenched and coughing up watery blood.

After there’s nothing possibly left in my stomach, Aerix crouches next to me, his midnight eyes locking onto mine. “You’re lucky,” he murmurs, low enough that only I can hear. “I don’t like my toys broken before I’ve had a chance to play with them.”

“You,” I choke out, my throat burning, my eyes stinging. “You pulled me out of there. Again.”

“You’re no use to me dead,” he says, and he rises, facing his father, who’s looking down at me as if I’m vermin.

Shivering, I force myself up, trying to save what dignity I still have. “Congratulations. You win,” I say to him. “You’ve officially proven you’re stronger than a human who can’t swim.”

Malakai’s laughter cuts through the night. “She really doesn’t know when to shut up, does she?”

“No,” the king says. “She doesn’t.”

“Do you treat all your guests this way, or am I just lucky?” I snap, both at the king and Malakai.

“Enough,” the king commands, and suddenly, my tongue feels heavy in my mouth.

My racing heartbeat evens out, the anger rushing through my veins calming to practically nothing.

“That’s better.” He circles me, inspecting me like a broken vase. “You’re much more palatable like this. Quiet. Obedient.”

I want to scream, to curse him, but my mind feels like it’s swimming in molasses.

Or—more appropriately—blood.

Aerix removes the amulet of warmth from his pocket and examines it.

Could it have been doing more than just keeping me warm? Protecting me from night fae emotional manipulation?

---