Her husband was horned and terrible, a creature of the night.
Words caught in her throat, tears welling.
“He is a demon. A thief who has seduced my daughter. The pretender who has taken my throne. Everything you know about him is a lie.”
Tears spilled down Alora’s cheeks and she shook her head. Even if it was all lies, she couldn’t accept it meant nothing.
“He loves me…”
“Demons cannot love and you waste yours on him.”The spindle rose on a bed of black mist before her. “Become who you are meant to be, or when the sky bleeds, he will burn.”
The moon above them darkened further, its surface rippling like liquid.
For a single, horrifying instant?—
An eye opened within it.
Alora screamed.
She bolted upright in bed, ragged breath tearing from her lungs, heart hammering so hard she thought it might split herchest. The pale light of the moon spilled through the window, washing the room in silver calm.
She pressed a shaky palm to her sweaty brow.
It was nothing but a bad dream?—
Her fingers brushed something cold on the mattress. She looked down and found the crimson spindle in the sheets. Alora tossed it away with a shriek.
Her chest heaved and her eyes filled with tears.
Had her whole life been a lie? The reason her father sent her away, Zinnia’s rules about magic and blood, now it all made sense.
When Rune returned at sundown, Alora said nothing of her nightmare.
She pretended not to see through the flaws in his glamor, or the shadow of his horns on the wall. She no longer questioned why he couldn’t walk in the light. The mask of perfect beauty was an illusion, but his gentleness and warmth did not change.
And Alora decided then she didn’t care.
She loved him anyway.
But the voice continued to haunt her dreams.
Vorak, he called himself, once she dared demand a name. After that, twilight became her enemy. She fought sleep until her eyes burned, but exhaustion always dragged her under, and he was always there, patient as rot. Sometimes a voice in the mirror. Sometimes a presence behind her eyes. Always laughing when she begged it to stop.
“Why are you doing this to me!” she screamed.
He only laughed.“You carry my freedom in your veins. And I have waited an age for it.”
And she realized with a chilling certainty that what Vorak wanted was the power in her blood. Once he had it, he would no longer be contained to her dreams.
Rune saw the changes in her, saw the dark circles under her eyes. He asked, but she dismissed his concern with a smile, changing the subject.
Each time Alora woke trembling from her nightmares, Rune had already left for the day, and she was grateful he wasn’t there to hear her screams. She could not stand the thought of him looking at her the way her father had once looked at her mother.
Like she had gone mad.
The voice spoke of freedom.
Alora thought of containment. There had to be a way to stop him.
