I stretched my stiff muscles, careful not to jostle Seren from her place on my chest. I felt surprisingly rested considering Seren and I had talked long into the night within our shared dream.
She had proposed marriage to me, and the shock was still fresh.
It was a fool's plan.
It would certainly work to lure our enemy to the palace on the solstice, but as long as Seren would be queen, it could never be real. The council would make sure of it.
But Seren said she would not let the council tear us apart, and I wanted to believe her. I wanted to allow the selfish part of myself to hold on to her, no matter what. I would try to do exactly that.
I ghosted a kiss across her mouth.
Chapterfifty-nine
Seren
Acsilla loomed on the horizon, distant still but gleaming enough in the sharp sunlight that we could see it glinting just so as we descended from the final mountain peak.
We’d left the Sárkhona Draum behind, reentering the more familiar landscape of the Váracis Erva, and as we settled down for the night, I prepared myself for one of the most important moments of my life thus far.
It was my job to establish contact with Lady Adiran—to taunt her into springing our trap. We could not afford to make any mistakes, but by that final night on the road I had done all that I could. I had studied and practiced and prepared to the best of my ability.
I was ready to contact Lady Lydia Adiran.
The dreams began like any other.
I focused on the swell of my mágik, so willing and quick to heed my call. It flooded my body, and my blood hummed with the power I had grown accustomed to over these past months. I centered myself, calling the image of Lady Adiran to my mind. We had only a vague description of her, but I held it at the center of my intent nonetheless.
Weaving the threads of my mágik, I willed it to find the one who wished to harm us. I poured every last scrap of knowledge into mysearch. From her connection to Claudian, to the life mágik which she wielded, and the intent of the solstice ritual.
Images swam before my eyes, coming into lazy focus. I poured more of my mágik into the connection, sweat beading on my temples. I weaved information into my power and demanded the dream take shape. With great effort, a woman came into focus.
Her white hair was stark, her eyes pale gray. She looked shockingly similar to Théo, and I surmised that their life mágik must have played into the paleness of their features, just as my two-toned eyes mimicked that of the Celestial Goddesses.
The woman turned slowly but deliberately. I had no doubt that she was aware of the mágikal nature of this dream. She grinned, a sharp twist of the mouth. “Seren Corso. Or, do you go by Seren Sgalier now?”
With a jolt, I realized I had seen this woman before. She had appeared to me in a dream, latched onto me, left halfmoon marks on my wrist. A shiver ran down my spine, but I forced my expression to remain smooth.
I smiled back, pouring smugness into the slant of my mouth. “Call me whatever you like… Your Majesty, if it suits.”
Lady Adiran quirked a single white eyebrow. “Impressive. To think, that fool Claudian thought you would be an easy thing to put down.”
“His arrogance knows no bounds,” I agreed. “Neither of you should have underestimated me.”
“Is that so?”
“Of course,” I began, filling my tone with false confidence while my heart pounded in my chest. I forced my hands into fists, though I desperately wished to wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs. “Yourlittle plan has failed. It was Claudian’s fault, to be sure, but the failure belongs to both of you. I have won, along with my friends, and crowned myself queen.”
Her answering smile was all sharp teeth. “You think this is over?”
I hardened my expression. “I know it is. I will rule Acsilla into a new era untainted by the likes of Claudian and of you, my husband alongside me.”
“Husband?” Her voice betrayed a note of surprise.
I had caught her off guard, as intended.
“Well,” I laughed, pushing hair behind my ear demurely. “I am betrothed. We plan to marry on the solstice. I thought it quite poetic to turn a day planned for violence into a celebration of love instead. Fitting, don’t you think?”
“You forced your way into my dreams to gloat?”
