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."
"But he didn't," I say, looking for holes in his lie.
"He never got the chance. You see, father told me he has always been cautious with poisons. He has built a resistance to many of them. After Fen completed his dirty deed, he left father alone, likely to fetch chains. But it only took a moment for Lucian to reawaken. He realized what happened. His own son had betrayed him. Fen, the kind, honorable one. How would Levi or Dean react? Niam? No. He knew then he could never free the slaves as King of the Vampires. He had to leave, go into hiding. He had to join with the Fae. So my father took one of his own concoctions, one he had used during the invasion, one that feigns death."
"But I saw his body—"
"You saw the remains of a dead vampire Lucian placed in his grave after his potion wore off and he left the mausoleum."
His story makes sense, except Fen is no poisoner. "How do you know all this?"
"Because Lucian told me. He needed someone still on the inside. So, he came to me, said I was the last one he could trust."
Images flash through my mind. Fen glaring at Asher. Fen upset Lucian always trusted Asher more. Did he… did he really poison his father?
Asher raises an eyebrow, seeing the uncertainty in my face. He holds a silver goblet to his lips, drinking. "I want peace, Ari. I want the Fae and vampire and Shade to live side-by-side without war, without slavery, without hate. Yes, I knew you were a Fae Princess, but I never lied to you. I never told you anything that wasn't true. My father's will did demand your commitment to marry one of us. It came into effect when he resigned his crown, even though my brothers thought him dead. He knew he couldn't make a deal with you himself, not while in hiding. He knew he needed you in this world. Your mother set this up sixteen years ago when you died, and she sold her soul to bring you back to life. My father took the deal and waited. We couldn't force you here. You had to come willingly."
He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a long moment before opening them again. He speaks softly, without the typical arrogance I'm used to. "You're the only hope this world has of surviving."
I shake my head, stunned by his calm demeanor. "So this is all justified in your mind? You just did as you had to?"
"Yes. Maybe there was a better way, but I don't know what that would have been. Ari, I'm begging you, please believe me. I'm not your enemy. I care about you."
He reaches for my hand and I don't pull away. My mind is filled with too many conflicting emotions.
"I won't lie," he says. "I want to be king. Out of all my brothers, I think I would be the best choice. Out of all of us, I alone want peace. I alone want to end this war. And with you, I know I can."
His eyes fill with sorrow and something else… hope. "Give me this month, Ari. Your mother will be kept safe. The contract will not be broken. You will visit your world. You will fulfill your obligation by spending time with me. Give me this month to prove I'm the best choice for this world. Give me this month to win back your trust."