Page 20 of Realm of Dreams & Shadows

I do. I really do. But if I tell her the truth, she’ll probably bolt. And I already know she’s a friend I don’t want to lose.

I manage a tiny smile. “I’m good. Really.”

She nods. “Okay. I’ll grab us coffee from the dining hall while you shower. Cream and sugar, right?”

The simple kindness nearly breaks me. “Yeah. Thanks.”

In the shared bathroom, I lock myself in a shower stall, then turn on the water and allow myself thirty seconds to cower in the spray, my palms against my eyes as I breathe through the rising panic.

Thirty seconds. That’s all I get. Then I soap myself up and let the hot water run over me, forcing breath back into my lungs until I almost feel human again.

The moment I’m back in the room, Tia hands me my coffee and a small envelope. There’s no return address, just my name in elegant calligraphy.

“Came about five minutes ago. Someone slid it under the door.”

The faintest scent of smoke clings to the envelope, and for no reason I can name, my pulse jumps.

“Uncle Finn probably put me on a list for some event,” I say, since I can’t think of what else it could be. I open it, then pull out an invitation, the paper heavy and textured beneath my fingertips.

Your presence is requested at Whitehall House. Friday, 10 p.m. Come if you want answers about your dreams.

My body goes completely cold.

“Okay, what’s with the face?” Tia asks, bopping to my side. “You look like someone just walked over your grave.”

“It’s nothing,” I say, trying to tuck the invitation away, but she’s too quick and snatches it from my fingers. “Tia! Boundaries much?”

“Answers about your dreams?” She studies me with new interest. “This isn’t just about night terrors, is it?”

I force myself not to cringe as I mentally debate how much to tell her. We’ve been roommates for all of one night, but there’s something about Tia that inspires trust—her straightforward nature, her complete lack of judgment about, well, anything. Her utter inability to see boundaries. And, yeah, the fact that I just freaking like her.

“Hey, look, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s⁠—”

“My dreams are fucked up,” I blurt. “Like, they’re not, well, normal.” I bite my lower lip, hoping she won’t freak out. Because in the same moment that I’d word-vomited my dream angst all over her, I also realized that I really need a friend. Someone I can talk to. About my dreams. About school. About Chase.

About everything.

And I think—I hope—that friend is Tia.

“Fucked up,” she repeats. “Yeah, well, I got that from the screaming. You know I understand, right? I told you about my cousin.”

I nod. Uncle Finn had already spilled the beans, but Tia had told me about her cousin’s night terrors over coffee yesterday.

“I know,” I say. “It’s just that, well, what happens to me—it’s a lot more complicated.”

“So, explain it to me. I mean, if you need to talk about it, you can talk to me. Because, hello? I’m your favorite roomie, right? That makes us practically sisters.”

She waggles her eyebrows, and I can’t help but laugh. “It might help,” she adds, her voice suddenly soft. Even a little maternal.

I draw in a long breath. I don’t want to talk. I want to run. I want to race far, far away to where the dreams can’t find me. But I don’t. Because I’m tired of keeping it all inside. Tired of feeling so alone.

“My mom had them too,” I whisper to the floor, the words coming before I can stop them. “The same kind of dreams.”

I force myself to look at her as I tell her the rest. “That’s how she died. Something in the dream killed her.”

“You mean she had a heart attack? Or⁠—”

“No.” I swallow, then shake my head firmly. “That’s the official cause of death, but she was having a nightmare when it happened. She was screaming…and then she wasn’t.”