“Yeah, come in,” I call from around the corner.
Her steps are near silent as she approaches the large bay window, placing both hands on her hips. The fading sun casts golden rays of light that bounce around the room. I hear her sigh as I cross the room to join her.
“Are you alright?” I ask.
“Oh, I’m fine,” she responds. “I’ve just had a headache I haven’t been able to shake for the past few days.”
“Are you not sleeping?”
“I am. I’m just having really vivid dreams—or nightmares—and they all end the same way. With...” she trails off, and starts to fidget with the stunning necklace she always wears.
“Ends with what?” I push.
She pauses, as if she doesn’t want to speak the words into existence. “Someone screaming.”
A chill runs up my spine, and I try to give her a reassuring smile.
“Who?”
She shrugs. “Someone familiar, and not at the same time.”
“I also have nightmares.” I nod, with a soft curl of my lips. “For years. They never get easier, and the fear you feel when trapped in them never fades. I’ve always known that darkness hides in our dreams, like something that can’t reach us when we are in the light.”
“I feel like I’ve been swallowed whole lately,” she continues. “Like the darkness has shifted into something different, and as I run through my nightmares—as I race through the ruins—I only see a single light.” She braces herself against the windowsill. “And no matter how fast I run, I can’t reach it.”
I look out over the dark sea before us. “It’s a dream. Keep pushing forward, and maybe you’ll reach it one day.”
She blinks, fighting back a tear that threatens to roll down her cheek, and clears her throat as the memories fade. And just like Silas, she turns off that part of her—weakness—as if it’s asin. Fen spins around and notices that I’m still wearing the same outfit—black fitted pants and a wrinkled white shirt.
“Oh no.” Fenmore shakes her head. “No.”
“Hm, okay? You could pretend that I at least look decent. I’m comfortable in this,” I respond, mildly irritated.
“You look stunning. Always,” she laughs. “But, that outfit won't do. I had Warrick bring all your things. I came to make sure you knew that, and it’s clear you didn’t. My father loves the dramatics; if you show up over the top, he’ll love you.”
“Gods, you are as direct as your brother.”
Fen laughs again. “You’re going to whip him into shape quickly. I can already see a change in him—in a good way, I mean. He’s softer.”
“Silas Nastronde is softer?” Her statement takes me aback. “He threatened to slaughter Larkin in the living room.”
“He wouldn’t hurt Larkin,” she says, rolling her eyes, before pausing to think about it. “Well, not too bad.”
I chuckle.
She shakes her head. “Believe it or not, he is. And it’s because of you.” She looks out of the large window. “He was…angry before he left for Daramveer. He was so haunted by his dreams that he could barely function toward the end. He was slowly going insane.”
“What do you mean?”
“He ripped this kingdom apart a month before the competition was announced, looking for you, not realizing you weren’t here at first.” She blinks back the memories. “He scared the fuck out of the people here. Larkin and Warrick did everything they could to calm him down, but it didn’t work. Our father gave him a brutal beating afterwards, seeing the mess he made.”
I gaze out of the window alongside her. “I had no idea.”
My mind travels back to the words Larkin spoke about Silas and his anger, and how he witnessed it.
She moves closer. “I’m not surprised. He’s not one to talk about his feelings, especially old ones. Warrick and Larkin finally had to restrain him after his largest outburst. They locked him in this house for days. I don’t think either of them slept. It consumed him.”
“He has a temper,” I add.
