My mouth is dry, and it hurts to talk, but that’s never really stopped me before. “For a while, I thought maybe that was why I was blacking out on full moons and waking up in ditches. Or with blood all over me.”

He shrugs, and when he does, a strand of black hair falls in his face. “Not a bad guess.” He turns back to the fizzling set of potions on the workbench.

“You know, I bet it would make concocting your evil, highly illegal potions easier if you cleaned that lantern.”

Indeed, it looks like someone smeared the glass with soot.

I wait for him to answer, and as soon as he does, I fidget with the restraints on my wrists.

“I hardly need much light to see.”

The restraints are metal, not rope, the problem being that, though the metal is much stronger, they aren’t fitted to the exact shape of my wrists.

Given the way they leave gaps between my wristband and the metal, I’d say they were made with fae prisoners in mind, not humans.

And I’m a tiny human.

“Right, because you’re fae, I guess?” The sound of my voice masks the noise of my thumbs tucking underneath my palms.

“Mhm.”

Okay, so yes or no questions aren’t the best way to get this fae talking.

“If the wraithseeker didn’t work out for you, what do you plan to do to me next?” There’s no need to fake the dread trembling around the edges of my voice.

“Won’t matter to you. I’m putting you to sleep for it.”

“Putting me to sleep with what?”

He lets out a short laugh. “Don’t worry. I won’t be feeding you marebone or anything.”

I don’t know what marebone is, but I don’t really care. My right hand is out now, though my thumb is sore from squeezing it through the restraint.

I blink, and Farin is hovering above me, his sickly blue eyes narrowed as he grabs my wrist.

“Going somewhere?” Amusement dances in those glowing eyes of his.

I twist my wrist, meaning to escape from his grasp at the weak point of his thumb, but he only grips me tighter.

Desperate now, I throw all my strength into yanking my arm away, but I might as well be trying to fell a barracks wall with a pebble for as much as he strains.

He tucks my fingers together and slides my hand back into the restraint. He closes his fist around the metal. A screech, and then the restraint is practically molded to my wrist.

When he leans over me to secure the second restraint, the scent of cedar and parchment washes over me.

“Do yourself a favor and don’t try that again. The queen doesn’t take too kindly to escape attempts.”

There’s a casualness about his tone, but the way he avoids looking at me has me wondering if he knows this from personal experience.

“What does she want with me?”

His gaze finds my face, and though he’s done securing my restraints, he doesn’t put any distance between us.

“Don’t play dumb. You’re a servant girl, not a princess. Acting ignorant won’t get you anywhere.”

Silly servant girl. Only princesses get happy endings.

I tuck the memory away and flash a smirk at him. “I’m trapped in a dungeon. Not much of anything is going to get me anywhere. And you can’t blame me for wondering. It’s not exactly a good time—sharing your body with someone else.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, my cheeks heat. Normally, I would have been more than happy to pluck innuendo from my arsenal and use it as a disarming technique. But this time, I hadn’t meant it that way, and in the presence of this fae, misusing my words feels like a vulnerability.

His blue eyes flash, and the corners of his mouth twitch, but he doesn’t call attention to it.

“Are you still in there,” he flicks his gaze to my forehead, “when she comes out, I mean.”

My fingers tense, clawing at my palms when he brings up Cinderella.

There’s a hint of amusement in his expression, and the sight of it sends a thousand questions swarming through my mind. Cold sweat breaks out across my forehead, and my breathing goes ragged.

Was this male there the night Queen Abra purchased me from my stepmother? When Cinderella takes over, it’s like she locks me away, tucks me into the darkness and leaves me there until we swap places once more.

She could do anything with my body, and I’d be none the wiser.

And the way this male is looking at me, humor glinting in his icy blue eyes…

He was there. He must have been, and given how attractive he is, knowing how Cinderella behaved toward Evander, she probably threw herself at him.

Threw me at him.

My stomach rolls over, and if I had any food in it, I’d be sick all over myself. But as it is, it just burns. A lump rises in my throat, and my muscles constrict like I’m gagging, except I can’t breathe. I can’t. I can’t.

“Hey.”

Farin grasps my shoulder, and I recoil, except there’s nowhere to go, so I just end up slamming the back of my head against the stone dais.

“Don’t touch me,” I bark, and Farin jerks away, holding his pale palms up, his blue eyes wide.

He’s as still as ever, and when he speaks, there’s no kindness in his voice, but there’s no cruelty either. “It’s a week’s journey from Othian by coach. The queen would have spoken with it, with the parasite that’s using you as a host. I can’t imagine the conversation went the way she intended it to, otherwise she wouldn’t have tasked me with extracting it.”

My mind is spinning, and I can hardly grasp onto his words as I fight for breath. But the male keeps talking, and something about the steady cadence of his voice keeps me tethered to this room.

“Before she left, she had me concoct a sedative. She would have given it to you as soon as she realized your magic wasn’t cooperating. She made the trek herself, with only her most trusted guard. Corinth is rough around the edges, but he’s protective of young women. His daughter was taken by a band of Avelean traffickers when she was a child. They got her back, but she was never the same.”

“Why are you telling me this?” It’s barely a wheeze, my voice, but I manage to get the words out.

He inhales, his chest bulging underneath his black robes. “No one would have touched you. Corinth wouldn’t have let it happen.”

Slowly, painfully, my breaths lengthen, deepen.