I said nothing.
The door creaked open, and Remy stepped inside.
He paused just inside the threshold, eyes falling immediately on me… and then on Zander, still holding my hand.
He didn’t say a word.
Didn’t offer some witty interruption.
He just watched.
But I could feel it. The irritation rolling off him like heat from a forge.
Zander didn’t move.
And neither did I.
I sat on the edge of the cot; the blanket twisted around my waist, the cold still clinging to my skin despite the warmth of the healer’s hall. Zander sat beside me, not touching now, but close enough that the silence between us felt heavy, like something unsaid pressing on both our chests.
“I’ve been having strange dreams,” I said finally, voice low, like the wrong tone might summon the robed figure again.
Zander glanced over, brow furrowing. “Everyone dreams, Ashe. Especially after a trial like that.”
“No,” I said, louder than I meant to. “Not like this. It’s more than memory. More than fear.” I swallowed hard. “It feels… like I’m connected. To them.”
His eyes darkened. “The Blood Fae?”
I nodded. “I saw Seraveth again. But this time… she wasn’t alone.”
Zander was quiet for a long breath. “You think it’s more than just dreams?”
“Iknowit is,” I whispered. “They feel like… memories I never lived.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “We could ask Alahathrial. He is still in the west wing. He might know something.”
My breath caught. “You think I should ask him?”
Zander nodded slowly. “You said yourself, you’re connected somehow. We need answers. And we’re not going to get them through dreams.”
I let that settle, my pulse ticking at my wrist. I hated the idea of sharing my dreams with a stranger. But I hated the uncertainty more.
“I’ll create a distraction,” Remy said before I could speak. “If the guards don’t know where you are, they won’t stop you.”
Zander straightened. “That’s risky.”
Remy shrugged. “So is being haunted by other people’s memories.”
My gaze flicked between the two of them. One bound to me by fate, the other by a past that refused to die.
“I’ll go,” I said quietly. “But I’m going in alone.”
Neither of them liked it.
“No.”
Zander’s voice was as thick as steel, final in the way that left no room for argument.
I turned to face him, lips parted, already ready to fight.
