CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
-GUIN-
With a flick of her hand, candles located around the perimeter of the room burst into flame—no flint, no spell. Just will.
Magic. Effortless and terrifying.
“We won’t be disturbed.”
I studied her, wary but grateful.
“Thank you,” I said finally. “For… everything you just did for me."
“Are you injured? Did Kay…”
I tightened the sheet around me. “No. You arrived before…” My voice caught. The words refused to form.
“Good.” She nodded once, and the fire in her eyes dimmed to something gentler. She gestured toward two chairs that were covered in thick fabric and dust. With a wave, the dusty fabric covering the chairs simply vanished, revealing soft damask beneath.
“Sit. This conversation requires comfort.”
I sank into one of the chairs, legs shaking. The sheet pooled around me like a shroud as Elenora settled across from me withthe fluid grace of a cat, her honey hair catching the candlelight. She settled into her chair like a queen claiming a throne, posture precise, gaze steady.
“How do you know who I am?” I asked. I’d wanted to know for weeks.
“I’ve known since your second night in Camelot."
“How?”
Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Because I saw you in your dreams.”
“Dream-walking?” I whispered, remembering how she had given me a trinket to ward against exactly that. “You’ve beenspyingon me in my sleep?”
“That’s one way to describe it."
"I don't understand."
She folded her hands. “When you dream, your mind creates a landscape shaped by your truest self—free of the illusions you wear while awake.” Her voice turned instructional, almost detached. “Dream-walking is an ancient art. Forbidden now, of course. Arthur deemed it too invasive, too revealing."
"Yet you still do it?"
She laughed. "Of course."
I leaned forward, wanting to fully understand what this meant. "What does dream-walking mean exactly?"
She shrugged. "It means I enter into another’s dreams—into their memories, fears, their desires. Everything you hide while awake becomes exposed to those who know how to see, how to look for it.”
A chill crept over me, tightening around my ribs. “That’s a violation of the highest order! Youentered my mind. You rifled through my most private thoughts—without my permission.”
“Yes, I did.” She didn’t flinch. No shame. No apology. She traced a finger along the arm of the chair. "Dream-walkingrequires crossing boundaries most consider sacred. I've made peace with that necessity long ago."
“Why would you do such a thing?” The words scraped from my throat like glass. The thought of Elenora walking through my dreams,mymemories—it was almost intolerable. Did that mean she knew aboutMerlinand my mother? About my feelings forLance?
The bile rose faster than I could swallow it down.
Elenora didn’t flinch.
“I dream-walked into your slumber because something about ‘Sir Lioran’ was… off." She was calm, almost clinical. “Magic speaks to those who know how to listen. And yours speaks like water—fluid, adaptive,feminine. Even hidden beneath male illusion, it pulses in the rhythm of the sea. Most men’s magic seeks to control. Yours responds. Itfeels.That alone marked you as other.” Her lips curved faintly. “Your disguise is good. But magic recognizes its own.”
