My mouth remains tightly shut.
Anger flares brightly around Lynx, and before I can think of what to do to prepare myself, her mask takes up my whole field of vision again. I take a breath and hesitantly allow my magic to reach out to her, but there’s a strange blockage. She doesn’t draw her dagger this time, but she runs her finger along the side of my face, drawing an invisible line. Her hand feels surprisinglyunsteady, however, and I can feel pain writhing within her, mixed with annoyance and frustration.
“The rugged look suits you,” she says. “Do you have a lover by now who appreciates it?”
A sort of sadistic lust emanates from her like a purr as she continues drawing that unsteady, invisible line down the side of my neck, over my scar. I shudder.
“Are you disgusted by me?” There’s a sudden bite to her voice that makes me wince. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a superficial man.” The hysteria filling her tone tempts me to scoot away from her, but I remain in place though my arms shake from the continued support against my palms.
I don’t take the bait, and her finger lingers on my scar. Somehow, I manage not to move.
Lynx huffs. “My, aren’t we a bore.” Her tone is back to being light and aloof. “Well, pretty boy, keep being stubborn and”—she splays her hand over my bare chest—“you’llwishthe only punishment you receive is subsequent flogging.”
I’m busy staring at her bright green eyes through her mask when something pierces my flesh. I grit back a groan of pain, and Lynx takes her hand away, claw-like nails retracting. I blink, certain I’m hallucinating.
She laughs gleefully. “That’s more like it.” A satisfied sigh leaves her lips, and she stands, her crimson cape swishing around her. “That’s all for now. Enjoy the screams.”
I watch her retreating form until she vanishes from sight outside the cell, and it’s only when I’m certain she’s not coming back that I look down at my chest. I’d hoped the claws were just a figment of my imagination, but sure enough, small droplets of blood trickle down my chest from five shallow cuts in an arc.
Chapter 55
Chiyo sitson her bed across from me, staring at me as though I’ve lost my mind. “What do you mean you’re going to hold her hostage?”
Having the words said back to me chisels away my courage. “Last time, she threatened to destroy the dreamscape. I’ve relived that moment again and again and I realize, while the dreamers do have a say in what happens,Irule that realm. I weave the dreams, I control the imagery … I can hold Winnie until she gives in.”
Chiyo’s face grows increasingly whiter the more I speak. The words sound awful even to me.
“I’m aware how that sounds.”
“Lugda’s scalding balls, Durvla,” she says. She doesn’t speak for a while, but then she asks, “Can’t you dreamwalk to Tiernan?”
“I’ve tried, but I suppose the distance does play a part. With Carys, we’re connected by our bloodlines. With Winnie, we have the stones. With Tiernan …” My throat closes as I speak his name. He’s Chiyo’s brother; I cannot fall apart over him when she’s probably hurting even more than I am. “It’s odd,” I say, pausing again to clear my throat. “When we’re together, whenI practiced my dreamwalking with him … somethingdifferenthappened. I felt his emotions, heard his thoughts. It’s like?—”
“Your powers merged.”
I nod. “Yet, when we’re apart … I hardly feel anything.”
She frowns, reaching out to place her hand on my knee. “You two are disgustingly adorable together. Have I mentioned?” she says with a tearful smile.
I sniffle, even as I smile. “Once or twice.”
The brief moment of lightheartedness fades as reality sets in again. “Now,” Chiyo says. “We need that information from Winnie.”
I nod and take the opalescent stone into my hands. It warms against my skin as I close my eyes and slow my breathing. I recall the royal library, building the shelves in my mind, layering in books, the floor, the velvet couches, the table, and the candlelight fixtures. Once I’m happy with the dreamscape I’ve created, I ensure the doors are locked, and I call out to Winnie with my mind, my powers reaching out to latch on to her subconscious.
She doesn’t come willingly—not even close. If they’ve been training her to shield her mind, they’ve been doing a great job. She fights, her consciousness slipping from me several times. Nonetheless, she finds herself within my dreamscape.
Her hair is pulled back into a bun, and she’s in her Zenith uniform, a deep frown on her face. She looks bewildered for a moment before fear takes over her features.
“I just want to talk,” I say quickly. As I’ve done many times before in dreams, I step through my own shadows and land in front of her, scaring her witless. “I’m sorry; I don’t want to scare you.”
“Then stop entering my dreams!”
“I will leave you alone if you help me with one last task.”
She only lifts her chin with defiance, her lips sealed.
“Can you tell me with a clear conscience that you truly believe in the Zenith?”
