Chapter 2

I’d pondered his words for days, alone in my room. Rolled the impossible ideas around in my head until it ached. But the truth refused to be ignored, and eventually acceptance began to seep through my wall of defenses.

Perhaps Oberon was my father by birth. And Vivienne, my mother. I’d had what felt like months locked in the tower to accept that. But Lorelei... my sister. No. Way. There was no chance I’d ever come to accept that as my reality. I didn’t give a rat’s tail if it was true or not.

She was my enemy.

She would always be my enemy.

These were the very thoughts I’d been thinking when Zanthiel and his adorable little friend came to my door.

I eyed him casually. Still the same. Brazen, bold, and devastatingly beautiful. Only, he wasn’t the one. He never was.

“Do you take perverse pleasure in brazenly breaking the rules?” I asked, plucking a plum from the food platter delivered to my room multiple times a day.

Zanthiel’s silver eyes narrowed. “I don’t know. Do you take perverse pleasure in brazenly chasing what isn’t yours?”

“I don’t know, ice boy. Do you?”

The grunt I received in reply probably meant discussion over. “I didn’t come here to play childish games with you, Venus.”

Of course he didn’t. “You know, you haven’t changed much over the years. Still the same surly, emotion-driven, cold-hearted dichotomy you always were.”

His lips stretched into a smirk. “You flatter me. And you are still the self-absorbed narcissistic psychotic little—”

I lifted my brow. “Wait, I’ve forgotten, are we talking about you or me here?”

“Venus—”

I heard the cold warning behind his words, and strangely it brought back fond memories. I waved my hands at him. “Never mind. None of that has any relevance in our now, does it, love? We are where we are. We made some choices, some regrettable yes, and others, well, unnecessary evils I suppose you could call them. Either way, it’s dirty water under the proverbial bridge. You wanted me. You’ve got me. So, what is it? What can I do to satisfy that tiny, cold heart of yours?” I pressed my hand to his icy chest. He flinched back.

“Hm. Skittish. Even now.” I whirled around. “With you having been granted full freedoms from my father, and me locked here in his ebony tower like a common thief.”

His silver gaze briefly scanned my surroundings. “You’ve never been a common anything. And I’d hardly call this a prison. I’ve seen royal chambers less decadently furnished.”

I shrugged my indifference. “Locked door plus no key equals prison. It’s a pretty simple equation.”

He rolled his eyes. Not much sympathy left in him either. There used to be. Once. I remember a time not so long ago when every time his eyes landed on me they evoked an avalanche of emotions. The good kind. The preferred kind, the kind that made me tingle from the inside out with pleasurable chills. I sighed. Those days were long gone. And now he glared with iced, steely eyes harder and colder than the invisible prison bars holding me here.

“You don’t like me. I get it. So you can stop with the death stare, since A) it’s not going to kill me, much as you’d like it to. And B) you came to see me. Which means you want something. That means the asker of the favor ought to, at the very least, be civil to the potential granter of said favor. Emphasis on potential.”

“I didn’t wrap my hands around your throat and squeeze the life from your body when I entered. Does that not count as civil?” he said mercurially.

I moved toward him again and took hold of both his hands and placed them on my neck. “Go ahead. You’d be doing us both a favor.” I waited, challenging him and feeding into the animalistic tendencies of all Fey. Zanthiel especially. “No? Yes? Nothing then?”

Our eyes tangled and for a second, just the briefest one, like a momentary fraction of time, I saw something in those eyes that I hadn’t seen in a very, very long time. Hope.

I released his hands, which had all but frozen in place, and backed away from him. Suddenly the last thing I wanted to do was look at him or his fleeting raw emotion. Because the hope I saw in that steely gaze had nothing at all to do with me. It had everything to do with her.

Lorelei. She was like a mirror reflection you cannot shake. Everywhere you look, it’s there. In your face. In your life. Seeping into every crevice of your world. Asserting its obtuse nose into matters that were none of her business. My arms folded across my chest as I watched Zanthiel try to rearrange his expression. Faeries. As much as they liked to believe they were detached, impartial, and objective, they were as emotionally driven as any being ever was. Led by impulses of desire. Whether those acts were loving or heinous, they stemmed from the same place. The heart.

I sat at my dressing table and lifted the gilded brush to my hair, combing it through to the tips for several strokes before I spoke. “So, you want me to help her? Is that it?” My gaze lifted to his in the mirror. “You might as well just spit it out, love. It’s feeding time at the petting zoo, and if Oberon’s guards should find you in here... ” I lifted one shoulder casually. Not that I cared what would happen to him if they did. It would be bloody. And messy. And most likely end up with me being moved to a more impenetrable location. And I’d grown accustomed to this little cell. “Out with it,” I snapped, whirling around. “Not going to let you get me exiled along with you. What is it that you want?”

Zanthiel’s eyes narrowed. “I did come to request a favor.”

I smiled. I tried not to, but it was impossible to hide my excitement. It was in that moment. Those very seconds. You know the kind where scenes from your life and your future life flash before your very eyes with a sharpened clarity you’ve never experienced before? This was one of those moments. I knew exactly what would come from this request he was proceeding to explain. And I knew exactly how I would benefit from it, too.