Page 56 of Veil of Night & Flames

After a moment, he takes my hand again, then pulls me down with him. The sand is warm enough that I don’t really need the coat he conjures, but when the breeze picks up, I keep it on anyway.

Adric sits casually beside me, one knee up, the other long against the sand. “As they say in the Real,” he says, “tell me what you’ve been up to.”

So I do, taking him slowly through all of it. The Whistler memorial. The Valdez exam. “I face-planted the first one. Today I tackled the do-over. Do you know her?” I ask. “Professor Valdez?” I figure it’s a valid question since she studies dreams.

“I know the name through your uncle, but that is all.”

“What about Sebastian Vance? He’s this guy who’s a big deal in some society that studies dreams. I think he knew my mom.”

“I know of him.” Adric’s voice is hard. “The Oneiroi.”

“Yeah. That’s the one.”

A muscle works in Adric’s jaw, and he looks out at the water for a long moment.

“Adric? Tell me. You know him?”

“I know of him,” Adric says in a tight, controlled voice. “The Oneiroi are not dangerous, exactly, but you do need to tread carefully. “

“Okaaay. You want to elaborate on that a little?”

For a moment, I think he’s going to blow me off. I’m about to push the point when he says, “They are a human organization with magical ambitions, mostly aimed at preserving their own position in the Real when the barriers go.”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing?” I hear the harshness in my voice. “It’s not like you’ve got your soldiers out there shoring up the barriers. You want them down, too.”

“True. The realms should not be separated. That was never the Emperor’s intent. But the reunification must be controlled. And control is not within the Oneiroi’s vocabulary. Instead, they are pests. Opportunists. Vultures who not only expect but long for the chaos they believe will come. As for this man, Sebastian Vance has been with them a long time. He is a senior figure. Whatever interest he has in you, it is not a casual one.”

“He said his door is open.”

“Of course he did.”

“What does he want?”

“I don’t know.” His expression turns serious. “But until you do, do not be alone with him. Do not eat what he offers you. Do not accept gifts.”

“Eat? Really? You think, what? That he’d slip me something?”

“You are the last Bride, my love. And scarcity increases value. Best not to test him.”

My stomach twists. “He bought me a coffee.”

“Did you drink it?”

I grimace.

“Perhaps that is a sign of benign intent. But I suggest that in the future, you get your own coffee.”

“You really think he would try to hurt me?”

“Be wary. That is all I’m saying.”

I nod, because he’s right. I still don’t understand who or what I am or why I should be a girl engaged to a king, but I am. And I’ve read enough history to know that royalty often gets a really bad deal.

For a long time, we’re quiet, both just listening to the waves. “I missed you,” I say finally. “All week. I told myself I didn’t.”

“I know.”

I turn to face him more directly. “How could you know?”