Daison.
Daison is dead.
How could I have forgotten? How could his death have been locked so deeply into my mind that I'm just now remembering? Does Kayla know? Have they found his body? Do they even know where to look?
The Fae. Their attack killed him. He was Fae. He was one of them. Shade or not, he was Fae too. And they think I will help them? That I will forgive and forget what they've done to my friends?
But Fen has Shade slaves. Fen is part of the system that destroyed and killed Fae and took over their world. Fen must have known who I was and he didn't tell me. Fen lied to me just like everyone else.
If I was Fae, I might want all the vampires dead too.
If I was Fae, I would want to free my people.
And I am Fae, I realize. It's still such an odd thought. I'm Fae. And I do want the Fae and the Shade freed.
But I don't want to kill the vampires. I don't want to help people who think it's okay to kill the innocent.
I sink down, submerging my head. Underwater, the sounds of the world disappear. Only the thrum of the water itself fills me. I hold my breath as long as I can and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to empty my mind of everything but the moment.
When I rise to the surface and suck in air, I am no closer to any answers. I don't know what is right and what is wrong. I don't know who is lying to me and who is telling me the truth.
If there's anything I've learned in life, it's that reality is never black and white. And I have to muck through a lot of ambiguous grey to figure out where I stand.
I sigh and climb out of the tub, the water and bubbles dripping off my body. I shiver, already missing the warmth, but I'm not going to get any answers here.
Once I'm dry, I search my room for suitable clothing. How many times can a girl find herself in a strange castle stocked with strange clothing that happens to fit? Too many times, apparently.
I don't find any badass leather pants and tunic that Fen would grin at.
I find plenty of outfits Asher would like, which makes me extra grumpy. Reluctantly, I slip on an ankle-length black dress with long flared sleeves and a silver tie that wraps around my waist. Like Madrid's dress, this one has silver embroidery at the hem and neckline and features a cape sewn into the back. I can't place the fabric. It's soft, silky, but more durable than silk or satin. I must admit it's comfortable.
I find a pair of shoes, something less functional than my boots but more functional than heels, and slip them on. There's a mirror here. I haven't seen a proper mirror in a long time, not since I entered Hell. It's strange seeing my reflection so clearly, rather than catching glimpses in water or reflective cutlery. It's not a great ego boost. I'm too pale with dark circles under my eyes, and my hair is a tangled mess even after my bath. I dig through the dresser to find a brush, then do my best to tame my hair until it falls over my shoulders. Nothing can be done about my complexion except some sun and time, so I give up on that and check the door in my room. Locked.
I expected that, but still… even the princes of hell—demons of legend—didn't keep me locked up like a prisoner. This is how the people who think I'm their long lost Fae Princess treat me? I'm not impressed.
I check the window, pulling on the black bars that block my escape. Too hard. My hands ache. And if I did get out, where would I go? Could I find my way back to the elevator?
I sit down on the bed, planning out my next move. When Madrid returns, perhaps I can push past her and escape. Maybe I can—
The door opens, and it's not Madrid. It's Asher, looking contrite and entirely too apologetic. He brought food. With chocolate.
How devious.
He hands me the platter, and the smell makes my stomach rumble. Sautéed vegetables, fresh green salad, warm bread with honey butter, fresh berries with cream, and a slice of rich chocolate cake drizzled with a white cream sauce. I scowl at him, but take my food to the table and sit. I must eat to regain my strength.
"No meat?" I ask, needing more energy before I dive into the hard questions.
He shakes his head. "Only the Fire Tribe eats meat. It's frowned upon by the other Tribes."
I nod and dig in, savoring each bite. Asher wisely stays silent until I've licked my fingers clean, and I sit back in my chair, my belly full and my mood much improved by the sustenance. "You faked your father's death." It's not a question, because in this I feel certain.
Asher laughs. "I wondered if he had told you… no…" he mumbles, speaking half to himself. "No… I suppose he didn't trust either of us." The Prince of Pride stares back at me, his voice clear and cold. "Fen poisoned our father."
I tremble. "Another lie."
He leans forward, smiling. "Oh no, dear Princess. This, I assure you, is true. Our father told Fen of his plans to free the slaves. In return, your precious demon poisoned his own flesh and blood. I don't believe he planned to kill our father, only lock him up, interrogate him, possibly overthrow him altogether."