“How are you feeling?” She purses her lips and creases her forehead like she’s exceedingly concerned about my well-being. Her hand lands on the center of my chest, and that’s when I realize I’m naked with nothing but a sheet covering me from the waist down. Her skin is like ice, and I attempt to shrug off her touch while covering myself.

Though every movement hurts like a bitch, I’m relieved to find I can move again.

“Now, now, don’t go straining yourself,” Zerra says. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” She slides her hand lower, stopping at my navel, her fingers dipping a little too low to be innocent. “In fact, it’s nothing I didn’t see when my ladies bathed you.” Her eyes flick down and then back up. “And it was very impressive.”

Oh, good gods. Did she just compliment my cock? I’m way too fucked-up for this. Also, I don’t want her touching me. Objectively, she’s a beautiful woman, but something about her makes my skin crawl.

“Who are you?” I say, though my voice is a croaked whisper and my vocal cords ache with the effort. I need to hear her say it again because, surely, I heard her wrong.

“I’m Zerra,” she answers and then blinks as if daring me to argue. Is she telling me the truth, or is she crazy? Or maybe the problem is me?

“Where am I?”

“You’re in the Evanescence,” she says, setting off a wail of alarm bells in my head. I’m skeptical, but the light and the air and mood in this place feel otherworldly and distant. It feels like I’m somewhere lost in another dimension or another world. I can’t explain it, but a shiver climbs over my scalp, confirming what I already suspected. We’re definitely not in Ouranos anymore.

“Am I . . . dead?”

If I am, then I don’t technically belong here. I never ascended to the Aurora throne. The Evanescence is reserved only for kings and queens—not princes who didn’t quite make the cut.

If they don’t find themselves banished to the Underworld for their misdeeds, most people—fae and humans alike—just cease to exist, their souls floating in the ether until they’re claimed by another body to do it all over again. Or at least that’s the theory. Fae live so long that we don’t tend to give much thought to the afterlife.

“Not in the way you mean,” she answers, “but you aren’t really alive right now either.”

“What . . . does that mean?”

“Ohh,” she coos. “Don’t trouble yourself with such deep thoughts. You’re still recovering and need rest to build up your strength.”