Adam’s heart began pounding. Something was not right.
He pressed Zeus on.
The howling gave way to barking, snarling, the sounds of predators on the hunt. The horse’s sounds grew more erratic, less aggressive, and more frightened.
“On, Zeus!” But the horse resisted.
Between trees and through fog, Adam followed the sounds as they grew louder. His heart pounded. For the first time in years he actually felt fear. Still he kept on, as fast as the fog and Zeus’s uncharacteristic nervousness allowed.
Suddenly the sounds were all around him. The pack had surrounded him. He could hear them but couldn’t see a single wolf through the thickening fog.
A rasping Adam recognized as strangled breathing joined the other noises echoing madly through the air. He knew it was the horse.
He urged Zeus closer. Close enough to see through the fog, a horse struggled to stand, bloodied and breathing loudly, harshly. It was saddled but riderless. Adam’s eyes darted around, but the fog didn’t reveal his surroundings.
He moved closer still. When had the horse lost its rider? Before or after the pack had arrived?
Suddenly, Adam panicked. He recognized the horse. Atlas. With a sidesaddle.
“Persephone!”
Adam sat bolt upright in his bed, heart still pounding, breathing as heavy as if he’d run the length of Falstone’s outer wall.
“Persephone.” Her name came out breathless, laced with the panic that still hadn’t subsided with waking.
She wasn’t lying on the bed where she ought to be.
“Persephone?” he said a little louder, looking around the room, which was strangely well lit and bright.
Adam jumped from the bed and moved swiftly to the connecting door. He pulled it open, the tension in his shoulders almost painful.
“Persephone?” She wasn’t in her bedchamber. “Perse—!”
“Adam?” Persephone stepped through the doorway to her dressing room, dressed for the day.
He covered the distance between them in a few long strides. He grasped her upper arms, holding her still as he looked her intently over, still half-convinced he’d find her bruised, perhaps bloodied. Other than obvious surprise and even a little alarm, Persephone appeared to be whole and unharmed.
For the first time since seeing Atlas without her in his dream, Adam felt some of his tension seep away. Never had he been so frightened for another person as he had been in the past few moments. And all on account of a stupid, stupid dream.
Adam released Persephone’s arms. “Ridiculous,” he muttered to himself and walked away. A dream! He’d never been unnerved by a dream in his entire life.
Adam slammed the door shut behind him as he returned to his own bedchamber.
“Ridiculous! Bloody ridiculous!” He’d have hit something if everything in the room hadn’t been made of either solid stone or hardwood. Breaking his hand wouldn’t change the fact that he’d just acted like a blasted idiot.
And a coward into the bargain, letting a dream frighten him.Worryhim, he corrected.Concern.He was never frightened by anything.Not ever.
“Adam?” If he had merely been concerned, he wouldn’t have felt so relieved at hearing Persephone’s voice from just behind the closed door.
“What?” he snapped in frustration.
She didn’t answer immediately. Adam could sense her hesitation. She seldom seemed intimidated by him. It ought to have felt like a victory.
It didn’t.
“Harry seems a little better this morning.” Uncertainty filled her voice, so quiet it barely penetrated the door between them.
Adam let out a frustrated breath. He knew that hadn’t been what she’d originally intended to say. He paced back to the closed door. “I am glad he is improving.” Adam leaned against the wall but didn’t open the door.
