Midnight Fae Academy Book Three - Lexi C. Foss Page 0,16

danger,” Tray interjected. “Because she’s mated to Kols.”

“Not fully mated,” I replied. “And Zakkai can help her undo that link, something that will be even easier for him to do if Kols goes anywhere near him.”

“She won’t let him remove our bond.” Kols sounded far too confident. “And even if she does, I’ll just bite her again.”

“If you’re alive to do it,” I pointed out, shaking my head. “You’re asking me to help you commit suicide.” And I’d bitten him to prevent that. “I may not like you, but I am not going to help you die.”

“I can’t be killed by you talking to him, can I?” Kols countered.

No, but I certainly could, and then what? I thought, exhausted from this conversation and several iterations of it before this point.

Of course, the others all ended rather violently, so I preferred this temporary lapse in pain to discuss this cordially.

Except Kols apparently had a death wish in this version of events.

Because I’d bitten him? Was that the catalyst for this madness? Or had I finally determined the right sequence of events?

I shook my head, my mental gymnastics giving me a colossal headache. “I need a nap before I talk to Zakkai.”

“Okay,” Kols agreed.

I studied him. “Seriously, this whole”—I waved a hand over him, unsure of how to define his behavior—“is alarming.”

His lips twitched. “This whole what?”

I just gestured at him again because fuck if I knew how to describe it.

The result made him chuckle and Zeph roll his eyes. “Do you two need a room?” the Warrior Blood deadpanned.

“No. I’ll be fine in Aflora’s bed,” I muttered, shadowing to her room before either of them could argue with me. Her floral scent hit me right in the chest, sending a spike of agony through my spirit as I fought the urge to reach out to her again. To apologize for what I’d done. To verify that she was okay.

But I felt her in the bonds, her fury hot and very much alive.

Give him hell, little rose, I whispered to our closed mental door. Flay him alive.

Because Zakkai fucking deserved it and worse.

I hated him more than I hated myself.

Or I wanted to, anyway.

If I were honest, I also understood him. Which was why I’d sided with him in previous versions of our history. And also why I allowed a tiny flare of hope to touch my senses now.

Maybe this time we would get it right.

Or maybe… maybe this was the final version that would end us all.

Zakkai didn’t want to give me clothes? Fine. I’d make my own with the wand he’d left on the nightstand.

My wand, I thought, my lips curling. I could feel the power whirling through me, recognizing my inner magic. Maybe at one point it had belonged to him, but it was mine now.

“Now, what to wear?” I mused, tapping my lip.

I muttered an incantation and waved the conduit around while studying myself in the mirror. Pants and a shirt were too plain. Hmm, a dress was too formal. No, I needed something rebellious and badass.

Knee-high boots—yes.

I paired it with a skirt.

“Hmm.” I uttered another spell, changing the fabric to a checkered pattern with dark green as the primary color. I added a white blouse, then magicked a cloak with a three-headed-snake charm as the clasp.

Zeph would be so proud. I resembled a Warrior Blood.

I tapped my chin. What else? I added a choker to the mix with gleams of red silk woven between black strands. Kols would appreciate the Elite Blood touch.

And lastly, I created a band for my wrist with violet threads to resemble Shade. I wasn’t happy with him, but he’d never hidden his devious intentions from me. He’d even warned that I would hate him, which I’d sensed hurt him deeply. So whatever he was up to held a deeper purpose; I just didn’t know what it was yet.

The only missing embellishment was a cerulean flair. Nope. Not adding that. If Zakkai wanted me to wear his colors, he could provide me with more than a robe.

I ran my fingers through my blue-black hair, gave myself a once-over in the mirror, and tucked my wand into the pocket of my cloak.

Where are you? I asked my Quandary Blood mate.

Find me was his coy reply.

I narrowed my gaze. You really want me to hurt you, don’t you?

His responding chuckle did nothing to alleviate my ire. If anything, it only stoked the flames. I didn’t appreciate his little mental mind game or the memories he’d