Turns out I didn't have to wait long the next day to find out why Calix was keeping me alive and in such lavish quarters. Smith barged in, dragged my covers off, and commanded me to rise and dress. I drew my knees to my chest and snuggled back into the bed. Storms raged outside, wind and rain lashing the palace, making it impossible to tell what time of day it was, but my body told me it was far too early to 'rise and dress.'

"Luna," Smith growled, grabbing me by the ankles and pulling me to the end of the bed.

If he thought that was enough to rouse me, he sorely underestimated me. Years of fighting early mornings during my school years was enough to make me quite adept at sleeping through all manner of things. The removal of covers, my father's yelling, and—

"Ahhh," I screamed as Smith deluged me with a bucket of ice water. Tendrils of chilled, wet hair fell in my face as I sat upright, and I shoved them out of the way to glare at the male. Good grief. His face was completely covered, but smugness radiated off him. "Was that necessary?"

"Very. I already let you sleep later than the king liked. You'll find the clothing from your previous chambers has been moved into the wardrobe in the corner. Choose something appropriate."

The biting words I'd loaded onto the tip of my tongue fizzled out as I swung my gaze to the wardrobe. Seeing all the shimmering silks and dazzling gems reminded me of Niamh and the absolute joy she derived from dressing me like a doll. She wouldn't hesitate to pull out the perfect ensemble for this meeting, but because of her brother—a sob swelled in my chest—because of Calix, she wasn't here.

"Luna! I swear upon the Ancient Ones that I will drag you naked to see the king if you don't get up and dress."

A dangerous thrill traveled down my spine at the image, and I wasn't sure I hated it. If my father could read my thoughts, he roll in his grave, but the time for the caution was long past. I dripped across the floor and fumbled through the options, none of them just right. Too modest. Too much tulle. Too formal. Too—

I grabbed the article and smoothed my hand over the fabric, careful to avoid the sharp bits around the shoulder. Sneaking around the dressing screen, I shucked my wet clothes to the side and shimmied into the silver body suit.

Like everything Niamh had made for me, it fit perfectly, hugging all my curves. Where shoulder pads were normally, there were sharp crystal spikes, and the bodice, built like paneled armor, plunged dangerously low. The back was complete exposed, and the pants looked like spun silver fishnet stockings.

Above the curve of my butt, a plume of blue feathers rose like a peacock's train, and attached to the feathers was another train, this one of matching silk. It was utter ridiculousness, but when I caught sight of myself in the long mirror, I grinned. It was the definition of deadly beauty.

The final touch was a thick silver band that latched around my neck. Some might see the collar and interpret it as a sign of being owned, but if they looked closely, they would see the daggers engraved along its surface.

"Luna—fuck," Smith said when I came around the screen.

"Is this appropriate?" I twirled to give him a look at the entire outfit.

"Absolutely not." He reached into the wardrobe and retrieved a slim circlet of jewels. Placing it on my head, he stepped back, "There. Perfect."

Silence reigned in the hallways, punctuated by rhythmic thunder. Over the thirty days I'd stayed at the palace before, I'd become comfortable navigating its labyrinth like halls, but I'd never been near the queen's quarters before. That and the fact that we had to reroute constantly, choosing different halls because some were open to the elements, left me feeling confused by the time we reached the throne room. It would be nearly impossible for me to find my way back alone.

I glanced at my escort and sighed. There was no chance I would be left alone for the foreseeable future. If ever.

"Do you know what he wants?" I asked Smith. Our time together, while brief, suggested he was someone I could trust. If not as an ally, at least as someone who would be honest with me. Then again, I had trusted Calix.

"I have my suspicions," he replied darkly, pushing open the twelve foot wooden doors separating us from the throne room. Then, he put his hand on my arm and urged me forward.

"Luna," Calix called out.

With one leg slung over the throne's arm, he propped his elbow on the other arm and watched me approach with a grim smile. Starlight eyes, once so bright and mischievous, barely twinkled, and if I didn't know he had murdered at least one sibling in cold blood, I might have inquired about his health. But he had murdered, so I hoped he choked and died.

I bared my teeth at him and squared my shoulders. Smith's hand on my elbow, while there as a display of control, bolstered my confidence. Especially since my body did not seem to agree with my heart and brain where Calix was concerned. It was as if the moment we entered the room, my hormones had gone into overdrive.

Calix raked his eyes over me, appreciation lighting a spark in his eyes. "That's a delightful getup you're wearing. Very suitable for your next role."

"And what role is that?"

His lips curled back, and his fangs lengthened. "Why the role of queen? And my wife."