“We’ve got bigger things to worry about,” I say darkly. “Caledon’s further ahead than we thought. He’s found the third artifact—Ethira’s bow.”
Ana is silent, but I sense the wave of fear swelling inside her. It consumes her for a moment, even if her expression is unchanged. Then a fresh sensation follows it, her jaw tightening as she lifts her head: determination.
“Then there’s no point trying to take down the whole Temple, not when he only needs one more artifact before he’s immortal and we’re all doomed.”
We don’t need to point out to each other that we don’t have much chance finding Ethira’s cup before Caledon. It could be hidden anywhere, or completely lost to legend—though I doubt we’re that lucky.
Ana flings the chamber door wide.“Follow me,”she says as she reenters the room.
A few of the council members eye me suspiciously as Ana takes her seat. I take up a position beside her chair, trying to strike a balance of looking authoritative without seeming too intimidating. If the wide eyes and nervous twitch of the council member nearest me is anything to go by, I’m failing.
“There’s been a change of plans,” Ana says. “That ritual I warned you about? The one that will make Caledon the most powerful person in this land? He’s dangerously close to being able to complete it.”
“He’s found another token?” one of the older councilmembers asks.
“It seems he has,” Ana says, and I’m impressed by how well she masks her frustration and anger at this news. But then, she always was good at masking her emotions. It’s very clever—a useful skill for a queen—though admittedly, I’d probably hate it with a passion if the mooring didn’t mean she could never hide fromme.
Countess Irisma sighs as if this is nothing more than a particularly annoying Tuesday afternoon.
“In that case, I think we’d better call in General Becane.”
A middle-aged man makes a grunt of disagreement. “Why would we do that? Involving the army is exactly the kind of thing which could escalate the situation unnecessarily.”
“If Caledon finds that last token, he’ll invade and conquer every part of Tiearland. I’d say the situation has already escalated,” Ana says coolly. “According to Bearer Sophos, Caledon’s already raising an army for that very purpose. If it’s a war he wants, he’ll get one. We’ll just have to take the fight to him before he can get his hands on that cup.”
Chapter 27
Leon
I’d forgotten how boring it is, going to war. The endless military strategizing that has to happen before you actually get to unsheathe your blade, the discussions about troop sizes and encampment logistics and where to strike when. Caledon’s search for the artifacts at least means a good portion of the army is already mobilized across Trova, but we have to liaise with the rest before we think about a coordinated attack on Qimorna.
I’m exhausted as I settle into bed beside Ana, and I expect to fall into a restless sleep. But the gods have other plans.
I open my eyes onto a beach that looks like Gullert, where Will Mercer lives. Waves lap against the shoreline, and I see the old soldier walking across the sand in the distance.
Not this again.
This is obviously a dream. Will’s dream. But I never meant to end up here, and I know that if I try to leave, I’ll just end up in someone else’s head.
Since that night in Lavail when I first traveled through others’ dreams, I’ve come up with some theories about how this ishappening. My final conclusion is that someone’s magic needs both body and soul to work, so when mine were forced apart and then yanked back together again, things ended up misaligned. It’s why I keep getting trapped in the dream realm, unable to control where I go. But it’s been happening less lately. IhopedI was finding my rhythm again, but it seems the disconnect continues.
I watch Will as he walks closer toward me, unaware of my presence. Halfway down the beach, his neutral expression changes to one of terror as some rocks sticking out of the sand take on a strange shape. They look less like stones and more like human heads. Will drops to his knees, sobbing as the sea foam on the shore starts to turn a bloody red.
I draw away from the scene, conjuring a door and walking through it. There’s nothing to do now but wait and keep moving, never staying in one dream too long to imprint on someone’s consciousness. As long as I don’t hang around in their heads, they won’t remember the brief snatch of nightmare in the morning.
Sometimes I manage to snap out of this purely by accident, my magic settling down on its own. I prefer to wait for that if possible. It’s better than the alternative—which involves Ana realizing what’s happening and calling me back to consciousness across the mooring. I’d rather get through this without disturbing her. Now I find myself in a cozy inn I’ve been in before. It’s the Holms’s place in Otscold, the Fox and Deer. I guess whose dream this is before I see Tira hurry past. The pub is busy, filled with customers, and she darts around them, handing out drinks off a tray. Then she drops the tray, the flagons of ale rolling across the floor as she starts to scream.
The crowd of patrons parts, and I see three bodies hanging above the fireplace, tied to the roof beam by ropes around their necks.
I escape through another door before I have to look at the faces of Tira’s family.
It goes on. I must visit five or six more dreams, each one quickly turning to a nightmare once my broken magic touches it.
The endless wheel of horror weighs heavier on my soul with every new scene, until I don’t know if I can take much more. Still, I try to be patient, hoping I’ll slip out of this mess on my own.
Then something changes. I recognize the setting of the next dream I step into. And it’s not just the backdrop that’s familiar. The cool morning air, the way the light hits the rooftops, and the smell—the stench of death—are all known to me.
I’m in Mistwell. This ismydream.
