I touch the window, pressing against it with all my strength, already knowing it’s useless. Zerra made a comment about requiring a sacrifice to destroy her palace, and I’ve yet to puzzle it out. After our first dinner, Zerra returned my magic, but I quickly understood it’s to remind me that it has no power here. That I have no power here.

It seems to only work alone in my room, and I’ve tried using it to free myself in every form I can manage—with every ounce of strength I possess—but it makes no difference. I’m losing my mind, stuck in this place.

I need Lor.

A knock at my door stops me in my tracks. I’ve learned to dread that sound, knowing I’m about to be dragged to yet another uncomfortable dinner. They don’t wait for my answer. The door swings open as two of Zerra’s minions enter.

They both wear gowns of light, almost sheer material that floats around them and drapes to the floor. Their shiny hair is curled and pinned, and their faces are painted with artful lines of black around their eyes, their lids and cheeks dusted with shimmering powder. It’s become obvious Zerra doesn’t like anything to be less than shiny and perfect in her presence.

“Her Majesty requests you for dinner,” says the one on the left, her voice distant and hollow. Her name is Tia. She dips into a curtsy, and I repress a long, exhausted sigh.

“She’s asked you to wear this,” says the other. Her name is Diana, and she holds out a silver jacket embroidered with glittering stones along the collar and cuffs. It’s the height of tacky and ostentatious. Even if it weren’t, I don’t want anything from this goddess.

Still, I’m trying not to make too many waves that will either get me killed or prevent my escape. In fact, I’ll keep playing the willing captive, hoping to glean more information from her. Zerra seems inclined to see what she wants to see, so I don’t have to pretend too hard. I roll my neck, working out the tension that wrenches on my muscles, and grit out a stiff smile.

“Thank you,” I say, and Diana holds it open for me.

I walk over and slip my arms into the sleeves before she shrugs it onto my shoulders, smoothing them down.

“That fits you very nicely. Her Majesty will be pleased,” Tia says, and I grunt.

“Great.”

“Come along,” Diana says. “Dinner is ready.”

They both turn and expect me to follow. Like a good little pet, I do.