“A d-dream. A bad one,” I whimper, rolling to my side. Now I regret pulling my hand away. And then hate myself a little for it. I’m such a mess.
Now my stomach aches the moment I close my eyes, because I’m sure I’ll end up right back in that dungeon if I fall asleep.
“I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”
I don’t. It was excruciatingly real, only to devolve into madness, because Gloombane is dead. I—
“I killed him. But he was alive,” I whisper, scooting closer to the edge of the mattress, following the soft huff of Tristan’s breath. His hand is still there, and even though I’m ashamed of needing reassurance, I entwine our fingers. He instantly squeezes mine, steady as his sword.
“He’s dead and gone. And you did that, you have the proof of your bravery on your chest. Who knows how things would have gone if it wasn’t for you.”
He’s pandering to me. I wasn’t even strong enough to stand up, but for a brief moment, I do feel a bit better.
“This isn’t me. I’m scared of spiders and I still refuse to squish them. But I killed him. I killed anotherperson, and deep downI’m glad he’s dead,” I whimper, pulling his hand to my chest and curling around its warmth. He smells so good. “I hate that he changed me like this.”
I can’t see in the thick darkness, but I sense it when the mattress dips under Tristan’s weight. I don’t want him here. Yet I’m not telling him that either, because my whole being longs for the safety of his arms.
“Don’t feel guilty. For what he did to you, he deserved that and worse.”
A sob breaks out of me, and when Tristan rolls into the bed, I dive straight against his chest, because if there’s anything that can keep me safe in this strange and dangerous world, it’s him.
And I hate it.
Because this wasn’t what I dreamed of when I imagined a fae prince whisking me away to another realm. That was all fancy balls, and walks in the moonlight, and passionate sex in a labyrinth. I was never meant to be this pathetic creature, who can’t feel safe without holding someone else’s hand.
This man has bound me to him against my will.
I shouldn’t seek comfort in his touch.
Tristan closes me in his arms, and I could melt into his warmth. There wasn’t a day in that god-forsaken tower that I wasn’t cold. And even though my skin is freezing, Tristan doesn’t flinch, pulling me closer. He’s muscular, but there’s a softness to him my bony body desperately needs.
“I’ll be here if you have another nightmare,” he whispers against the top of my head, and no matter how angry I am at him, this is exactly what I needed to hear.
I need him to be here and shield me from my nightmares—both real and those that are only in my head.
And once he holds me, it’s so easy to drift off.
I don’t remember having any more nightmares.
Chapter 20
Nate
Idrifted off near-instantly once Tristan’s strong, fragrant arms locked around me. He still smells so good, like a soothing herb infusion drank by a warm fire, and I chastise myself for enjoying his presence. But can’t I be the selfish one for a change after all the suffering I’ve been through because of Tristan’s poor judgment?
I still can’t eat normal meals, but the medic approves a small portion of savory porridge, which warms me from the inside. Winter has started in the Nightmare Realm, and while I was too exhausted to marvel at it on the way to the tavern, I’ve gotten enough rest to stay awake as we ride out, following a paved path winding through a narrow valley crested with sharp, snowy ridges.
It’s painfully cold, and my breath turns into vapor the moment we leave the inn, but Tristan has ensured I’m clad in a fur-lined outfit, and two cloaks, one of which is made of what looks like wolf pelts. The animal lover in me feels terrible about themajestic creatures until Tristan explains that the very predators whose skins I’m wearing mauled two children to death and were killed in the aftermath. I’m still sad, because the animals were only following their nature, but I have no mental capacity to ponder or discuss ethics.
What matters is that I’m warm, and as comfortable as I can possibly be during a long ride on the back of a huge magical horse, so I let myself sink into Tristan’s chest and admire the rugged landscape around us. I’ve been in the Nightmare Realm for two months, yet I’ve barely seen any of it. The time before Gloombane’s tower feels like a blur.
We’re protected from the wind, but I see it worrying the snow on tall ridges reminiscent of dragon teeth. Spiraling through the air, the loose flakes shimmer, reflecting the moonlight seeping through the dense ceiling of clouds.
Back when I first arrived in this realm, the land was still green, but now the trees crowding either side of the road are as gaunt as myself—with arthritic limbs draped in blankets of snow and trims of ice. Maybe someone else would see the beauty in the gothic nature of it, but to me their pale bark is reminiscent of bone, each twig like the finger of a hag.
We pass travellers, children selling tea from the garden of their home, villages, and even one caravan of goods from someplace called Trymet. We pass a narrow river shackled by ice chiming at regular intervals, and even an old statue whose face has long crumbled off. Tristan doesn’t know whom it depicts, likely some local heroine who’s been forgotten and is no longer an object of reverence.
My knight is taking me farther from the only passage to the human realm I know, but that was my wish, so I let myself observe the realities of my temporary home. There’s a terrible grandeur to the world around me, a wilderness full of animals with sharp teeth and elves with even sharper knives, but nobodydares stand in Tristan’s way. In the long hour before the moon sinks beyond the horizon, the wilderness seems suspended in its most primal state, but even then I know there’s nothing to fear.
