The smell of midday cooking filling the air was the only normal thing about the Unseelie Court. Seraiah's stomach rumbled as the smell of roasting meat and a heady mixture of spices wafted over her. She glanced at Kestrel to find that she was sniffing at the air too.

  After declaring Seraiah had potential, the Winter Queen had dismissed them, saying they would meet again after they had rested. Now, they were following the handsome male faery deeper into the Unseelie Court, and the scent of food was growing stronger with every step until Seraiah could hardly stand it.

  "Would you care to dine with us?" the faery asked, likely having heard the noises of Seraiah's stomach.

  She wanted nothing more than to accept after going so long without a proper meal, but the words died on her tongue as she recalled Kestrel’s warning about the danger of eating faery food.

  He must have sensed her hesitation. "Taking food from us will not condemn you to a life with us," he told them. "We, unlike the Seelie, do not need to resort to such tactics."

  Seraiah looked to Kestrel for guidance. He might not be lying, but there could still be a trap in his words that she wasn’t seeing.

  “We would be happy to join you for a meal,” Kestrel said.

  The faery changed course, leading them to a small dining room. He gestured for them to sit before disappearing.

  They waited in silence, taking in the details of their surroundings. The thick midnight blue carpets covering the floor appeared unworn, as though they’d never seen foot traffic, and the table they were seated at had no marks or stains, as one might expect to see. Every inch of the place was rich in luxury, but appeared to be infrequently used.

  Seraiah was about to mention it to Kestrel when someone new entered the room.

  She blinked, not believing her eyes.

  Unlike the other beautiful Unseelie they’d met thus far who appeared unnaturally perfect, this creature was small and orange, like the ripe flesh of a pumpkin. The roundness of it made it appear all the more similar to a squash, but it was the stem sprouting from the top of its head that convinced Seraiah this creature, tugging a large cart laden with food into the room, was in fact, a walking pumpkin.

  The strange little creature pushed the heavily laden cart up to the table and began unloading the dishes.

  Seraiah caught a whiff of the delicious roasted meat she’d smelled cooking earlier and discovered that it was coming from a roasted pig.

  It was an entire roasted pig.

  The little pumpkin creature lifted the platter up over its head, wobbling under its weight.

  Seraiah moved to help it. "Here. I can take that.”

  The creature let out an indignant squeak and pulled the platter out of her reach, depositing it on the table in front of Kestrel.

  With the last of its dishes unloaded, the pumpkin faery pushed the empty cart out the door, leaving them alone once again.

  Kestrel and Seraiah looked at each other across the table.

  "Was that—" Seraiah started.

  "Do you think—" Kestrel said at the same time.

  They both stopped and waited.

  "You first," Seraiah said.

  "I was going to ask if you thought that creature resembled a pumpkin," Kestrel said, eyeing the door the creature had disappeared through. “Or am I just starving?”

  Seraiah laughed. "That's what I was going to ask you. Was that a faery?"

  "Who knows? Anything is possible, I suppose." Kestrel eyed the platter of roasted pig in front of her as she spoke. "Do you think anyone else is coming?"

  "They would be here by now, wouldn’t they?" She plucked a golden grape from a bowl and popped it into her mouth. "I think," Seraiah said, after swallowing, "that was the best grape I have ever tasted."

  Kestrel grinned. "Well, then save some for me."

  They dug into their feast with gusto.

  Seraiah insisted on tasting a bit of every dish and, even though she only had a single bite of everything, she still felt stuffed.

  "Ugh," she groaned, sinking back into her chair. "I think I might be sick."

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  Kestrel scooped the last bite of honeyed yams off her plate and sighed as she licked her spoon. "It's a wonder these faeries aren't enormous. If I lived here, I would stuff myself every day until I couldn't move." She set the spoon down on her now empty plate and shoved it away.

  A second later, the pumpkin creature returned, pulling the same cart. They watched as it reversed the process from earlier, loading the dishes back onto the cart before leaving again without a word.

  "What do you think they will do with all that?" Seraiah mused after the creature had gone.

  Kestrel didn't answer.

  She looked over to find Kestrel slumped forward with her head resting on the table, fast asleep. Seraiah yawned. Maybe Kestrel had the right idea. She was feeling sleepy now that she thought about it. A short nap sounded be perfect.

  Seraiah didn't fight it as her eyes drifted shut, and then she, too, was asleep.

  Everything was dark.

  Seraiah swallowed down her rising fear and told herself to be patient. If this was a vision, nothing in the dark could hurt her and all would be revealed with time.

  She really hoped this was a vision.

  Gradually, her eyes adjusted, and she made out stone walls and the outline of a slim figure across the room. The figure's back was to her, one hand outstretched to make contact with the wall.

  Seraiah squinted, studying the back of the figure's head. There was something familiar about it, though she couldn't quite place what it was.

  She watched as the figure reached the corner of the room and turned, giving her a glimpse of their profile.

  Sterling. Of course, it was Sterling. She should have known.

  Before Seraiah could say anything or figure out what her sister was doing in this room, Sterling melted away and was replaced with Lonan.

  He appeared the same as the last time Seraiah had seen him. A tear rolled down his colorless cheek as he stared at her with those dead, dead eyes.

  "Too late," he mumbled, taking a step toward her. "Too late.”

  Sterling traced the same pattern around her cell. Pacing. Waiting. She’d discovered early on that if she sat still, her mind would wander. It would conjure all sorts of images from when she’d been kidnapped until she could hardly breathe. The walking helped distract her, so she didn't end up curled in a ball, quaking in fear.

  It had been days—or maybe it was weeks now—since she’d been locked in this cell. The burning or hanging she’d expected had never come. It seemed the human king intended for her to rot away in here.

  In the beginning, Sterling had tried calling out for Kai, hoping he was in a nearby cell. He’d never answered her cries. No one had. She’d only given up when her voice wore out.

  Then she’d walked.

  Around and around she would go until her feet hurt, and she could no longer bear to put one foot in front of the other.

  Her steps were silent now as she cut across the little box to the other side. If this was the king's way of breaking her down, he was going to be sorely disappointed. She wouldn't break that easily.

  The manacles around her wrists clinked as Sterling lifted a hand to drag along the wall. Her fingers found the worn grooves where previous prisoners had done the same.

  How many had come before her, and how many would come after, she wondered, tracing the smooth stone. How many had been magic users like her—like Inesa?

  After a moment, Sterling dropped her hand, clenching it into a fist at her side. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was escape.

  Even given all the time to think, Sterling hadn't found a way out. Her magic would no longer come when she called it. She could feel it bubbling just below the surface, but she could never quite reach it.

  And she was getting desperate.

  A sharp stab of pain went through Sterling's hand as her nails bit into her palm. When she relaxed her fingers, she felt blood well up in the little half-moons her nail left behind.

  She wiped her hand on her dirty pants and continued her pacing.

  Right on time, the door to her cell creaked open, bringing with it a small sliver of light.

  "Have you come to take me to the king?" Sterling asked the guard on the other side of the doorway.

  "Not today."

  It was never today.

  The guard set a tray of food on the floor and pulled the door shut again, taking the bit of light with him.

  Sterling stared at the tray. In the dark, she couldn't make out what was on it, but she knew what she would find when she stepped closer. Watery mush and moldy bread. It was the same every day. Everything was always the same.

  She’d completed a few more laps around her cell when she thought she heard something. It had sounded almost like a whisper.

  "Hello?" Sterling called, her voice bouncing off the walls and echoing back to her.

  There was no answer.

  She shook her head, trying to get rid of the feeling. It was likely just her imagination.

  Then the whisper came again, but this time she could make out the words.

  You need our help.

  Her knees went weak, and she threw out a hand to steady herself against the wall.

  It was the voices. The voices were back, and she was so relieved.

  "Yes," Sterling whispered. "Yes, please. I need your help."

  How long had it been since the last time she’d heard them? She couldn't remember, but hearing them again made her feel like she’d found a missing piece of herself.

  Then we need something from you.

  She could almost hear a smile in their words.

  "Anything," she blurted. "I need to get out of here."

  Give us control.

  "Control?" Sterling knew what they meant. They wanted to control her.

  Yes.

  "What will you do if I give you . . . control?" Sterling thought of the other times they’d wrested control from her. Each time had created havoc. Destruction. It was the reason she was here now.

  Set you free. That is what you want, isn't it?

  "Yes, but why? Why help me now?"

  Her questions were met with silence, and for a moment, Sterling feared they’d left her alone again.

  "Can you promise me you won't destroy this city?"

  We promise to free you and nothing more.

  "And once I am free, I will be in control again?"

  There was another moment of silence, and Sterling held her breath, straining her ears for any response.

  Yes.

  She picked nervously at the scabs on her palm while she weighed her options. Without having access to her magic, she didn't have much of a choice. Kai would warn her against it, of course. He would tell her there was another way and that maybe they could discuss things with the king. Sterling knew that would never happen, though. The king had no intention of talking to them. If she didn't agree to this, they would rot down here in the dark.

  Sterling hissed in pain when she scratched a little too hard at the scab, and it broke open again. Blood welled up from the wound and threatened to drip down her hand as she made up her mind.

  "Fine," she answered. "You can have control. Now, get me out of here."