“Seren, it's late in Twilight.” He touched my hand. “The middle of the night. Your father is probably asleep. Let's give him one more night of peace before we disturb him.”
I glanced at a grandfather clock standing beside the door. “Shit. You're right again.”
“We need to get some sleep ourselves.”
I bit at my lip.
Tiernan stood up and extended his hand. “Come, I have an idea.”
With his warm hand woven with mine, Tiernan led me through the castle toward Prince Shane's old wing. It belonged to Duchess Sorcha and Marchioness Latharna now. Still, the memories of the place haunted me. I didn't like going into this part of the castle. It was bad enough I had to sleep in Queen Iseabal's old bedroom. At least we'd gotten new furniture.
At this time of night, the wing was quiet, but as we went through the corridors of white marble and crystal, with their trenches of plants running along the walls, the sound of soft conversation came to us. We followed it into a sitting room where I had once confronted Shane. It would have made me cringe to enter that place, but it was different now. Different enough for me to let go of the Prince's ghost.
The bright walls featured lush tapestries and large paintings, softening the space and making it feel more cozy. Silk and velvet hung from the windows and covered the furniture in floral patterns. Lace-edged cloths covered polished wooden tables, and little knick-knacks stood on glass shelves within tall golden cabinets. A round table sat near a window where Shane's reading chair used to be. The Duchess ruled here now, sitting at the table with a delicate teacup in her hand.
It was the Fey version of Grandma's house, and I instantly felt at ease.
Sorcha looked up from her plate of tiny pastries. “My children! Come in. Would you like some tea and a bit of a bedtime repast?”
“Actually, yes, I would.” I went to join her at the table. “I'm starving.”
“Yes, I heard you two were . . . indisposed when they brought you your dinner tray.”
I flushed.
Sorcha laughed brightly. “Needs must be met, Daughter. Now, come. Please.” She waved her hand at the tiered silver tray full of little snacks. “They always give me enough for a crowd. Tiernan, sit down.”
“Thank you, Mother.” Tiernan took the chair between Sorcha and me. “We've come to you with a delicate situation.”
I paused in reaching for a pastry, but Sorcha only nodded as she filled a cup with tea.
“Go on.” She handed me the cup.
“Thank you.” I widened my eyes at Tiernan.
“She knows about Astaroth, Seren.” Tiernan took the pot from his mother and poured his own cup of tea. “It's all right.”
“This is about the Demon King?” Sorcha asked.
“Seren has been sharing dreams with him lately.”
“Oh, my.” She sat back and looked at me. “He experiences the same dreams?”
“Yes.” I dumped a spoonful of sugar into my teacup and stirred. I do not put cream in my tea. Gross.
“Oh dear,” she whispered.
“What is it?” Tiernan put down the teapot.
“How long has this been going on?”
“Eight months,” I said. “And my defenses against him vanish when I'm in the dream. I've tried coating myself with Light before going to sleep, but that hasn't worked.”
“You've tried using Light against him?” Tiernan cocked his head at me.
“Yes. I had to be careful about it, of course. I just laid it over my skin after, well, I was with Raza when I tried it, so after he went to sleep, I covered myself in it. It didn't work. And Star has tried using a hakhil. That failed as well.”
“Fuck me,” Tiernan muttered. “You should have mentioned that, Seren.”
