Chapter 35
CHAPTER 35
W e trudge across the surreal landscape of Kahedin’s dream world. Before us in the snow stands his palace. But it’s a dream version, larger and white as bone.
As we get closer, I see that it’s actually made of bones. Four soldiers guard the castle, their armor gleaming silver in the moonlight. Another soldier peers from a second-story window, wielding a crossbow. She appears to be completely naked, and her breasts are on display. Two more guards are patrolling around the villa.
I slowly start to realize that all the soldiers are the same person, a woman with red hair and large blue eyes framed by dark eyelashes.
“I think I recognize her,” Talan tells me softly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Though I’ve seen her only once. Duchess Arnesta. She’s Kahedin’s second cousin.”
As we step closer, the guards’ armor dissolves, and they stand naked, holding swords.
“What does it mean that at least seven naked Arnestas guard this place?” I ask.
Talan watches the soldiers with interest, then leans closer, his breath warming the shell of my ear. “I’m no expert, but I think it means he really wants to fuck his cousin.”
As we approach the villa door, they fall to their knees, and I realize the Arnestas’ swords are enormous knitting needles, sharp as blades.
Talan’s lips curl into a smile. “Now, that is how you greet the crown prince of Brocéliande.”
The Arnestas on either side of the door cross their knitting needles to block our way.
“No one can see our master,” the one on the right says.
“He’s punishing us,” the left one adds.
“We’ve been naughty,” the one on the right says.
“He saw me swimming naked.”
“I showed him my breasts when he was trying to work.”
“He’s got us all tied up now.”
“My bottom is bright red from his hand.”
“We need more.”
“We don’t want to be interrupted. He’s making us learn our lesson for that time we turned him down.”
“We can’t control ourselves sometimes around him.”
“Now, we beg him to fuck us.”
They lick their lips.
I stare at them. “Did you say his cousin?” I whisper to Talan.
“Second cousin,” Talan murmurs. He clears his throat and tells the Arnestas, “We won’t distract him from your punishment.”
On the left, Arnesta points her knitting needle at Talan. “ No one is allowed inside. No one else can see our master.”
Four Arnestas brandish their needles, and the one with the crossbow aims at us, but Talan’s words seem to reassure them, and they take a step back, though still eying us suspiciously.
“I could kill them,” Talan whispers.
“What happened to not making waves?” I ask.
“I suspect the whole point of Kahedin’s dream is that he’s trapped all alone with his fantasies. This is probably related to his seclusion because of the plague. No one is allowed near him in real life, and this somehow ties into his sexual desires.”
I cock my head at an Arnesta. “Well, that’s just it. What good is it to beg if there’s no one there to see it? I think Lord Kahedin wants the whole world to know how much you want him. How much you regret turning him down. He wants people to see that he has all the power now, doesn’t he?”
“Yes,” she says slowly. “You must watch us.”
“You must see how desperate we are for him,” says the other.
They move aside, motioning us in, one of the needles practically brushing me as I walk past.
Inside, the palace is falling apart, a place of faded grandeur with peeling paint and cracked walls. A vase by the entrance contains a bouquet of dead flowers. There’s only one door ahead, and Talan pulls it open.
Kahedin sits on a throne with six naked Arenestas kneeling at his feet, arms bound behind their backs. More Arnestas are draped in large, upholstered chairs, writhing on each other and moaning for Kahedin to touch them. They’re touching each other, trying to orgasm but never quite reaching it.
I recall seeing a portrait of him in Castle Perillos once. He was a handsome Fey with long, silvery hair and a well-kept beard. Now, he looks twice the size, made of pure muscle, with golden skin. The picture of radiant health. In his dreams, the only signs of his failing health are the dilapidated walls and the cracked mosaic floor.
“You see how they want me?” Kahedin beams. “You see how the tables have turned?”
“They obviously regret turning you down very much,” I say. “You radiate such power. May I kiss your hand?”
With a dismissive gesture, he extends his arm, and I step around the naked Arnestas to kiss the back of his hand.
I’m anticipating the usual blinding pain from my powers, but to my surprise, there’s none at all. Whatever causes it in real life hasn’t followed me to the dream world, and I leap into Kahedin’s mind easily.
I feel his misery at once. He’s spent months alone, obsessively thinking of Arnesta, but neither she nor anyone else would come near him. He yearns to touch someone.
The letter , I whisper in his mind. The letter that Prince Talan sent you. Agree to it, and it will all be over. You’ll be able to see people again. You’ll be able to step outside. Arnesta will throw herself at you because you will be favored by the prince.
He’s desperate and willing to try anything. I feel him instantly capitulate. He’ll agree to Talan’s letter. Talan was right. My mind control is even more powerful in the dream world. Any notion I plant here becomes an integral part of Kahedin’s fantasies, planted deep in the roots of his unconscious. He won’t know where he got the idea, but he won’t be able to ignore the growing desire.
Already finished with my work, I pull away, breathing rapidly and smiling at Talan.
He arches an eyebrow. “That was alarmingly fast.”
I shrug. “It’s done. Let’s get out of here.”
“Okay. We should be able to leave the way we came?—”
The palace door flings open, and a troop of naked Arnestas march in, gripping pikes. Snakes writhe from their heads instead of red hair, and their fangs are sharply pointed. Blood drips from their mouths.
“What have you done to my master?” one yells.
“Fuck,” Talan says, clamping his hand around my wrist. “Things are about to get very interesting, little one. Stay close to me. I know how easily your kind breaks.”
My breath quicks. “Why? What’s going on?”
“The dream has become unstable. It’s turning into a nightmare, and I don’t know how much I can control it.”
The nightmarish Arnestas stalk into the palace hall, their faces twisted into horrific grimaces, their fangs flashing. Behind them, shadows slide through the air, amassing before the door. They’re blocking our way out. Behind us, Kahedin starts to shriek, all of his bravado dissolving like sugar in the rain.
Talan exhales slowly with the air of someone who feels inconvenienced.
“Can’t you get us out of here?” I ask quietly.
Talan shakes his head. “In Kahedin’s nightmare, this place is a prison. I can bend and twist the dream logic a little but can’t break it.” His copper-ringed eyes flick to mine. “Especially not while you’re with me.”
The snake-haired Arnestas lunge for us, and Talan steps in front of me. One of them lashes at Talan with her razor-sharp nails. A sword materializes in his hand, and he dodges her attack with fluid, effortless grace. He swings for her, expertly slicing through her throat. But already, another is charging to take her place.
Talan shifts into warrior mode, a blur of speed and violent force. Whirling and pivoting, he arcs his sword through his attackers. He’s so perfectly, overwhelmingly Fey in the way he moves, equal parts vicious and graceful.
Behind the Arnestas, shadowy creatures writhe, their shapes constantly changing—snakes, monsters, and large birds of prey.
“Can you give me a sword?” I call out to Talan.
I can help him, but I can’t materialize my own weapons.
Talan turns, a dark smile on his lips. “My lethal wife.”
He tosses his sword to me. I catch it by the hilt and pivot to take on an oncoming Arnesta. I thrust it into her heart, then pull it out again. Dark blood drips from my blade. I spin to see Talan, now fighting two more Arnestas. Shadows loom behind them.
The room is morphing, the walls turning dark and inky, lit by torches.
Frantically, I scan the hall until I see a new wooden door. I run for it. When I try the doorknob, I find it unlocked. “Talan, through here!”
Talan swings at one of the shadows, cleaving it in half, then runs to join me. He slams the door behind us, leaving Kahedin and the monsters on the other side.
We stand in a long hallway. Through the wood, Arnestas scream about needing Kahedin, and the shadows moan.
Talan grips me by the hand and walks with me down the torchlit hall. “I really preferred the orgy part of his dream, even if it was a bit grim,” he mutters. Then he pivots, and I turn to see the shadows coming after us. Somehow, Talan still looks unimpressed. Bored, almost. “I thought perhaps they would have learned by now.”
His sword is a blur of steel, and he hacks through them.
“Go!” he says. “I’ll hold them off. If you run far enough, you might find the way out.”
“You want me to leave you in this place? What if you get trapped?”
A dark chuckle. “I’ll be fine. This is my domain, Nia. I’m just not sure about you.” He cuts a shadowy creature’s head, and the monster grows two more. “Go, Nia!” His voice rings out with a command.
“No.” I plant my feet on the ground. “I’m staying with you.”
His copper-flecked eyes cut to me. “Fine, but you’re about to become terrified, because I will become a nightmare.” His voice becomes deeper, darker, dredged from the ancient forests, the voice of a man who’s watched centuries turn like the seasons, and the years fall away at his feet like hawthorn petals. “The only way out of here is for me to be more terrifying than Kahedin’s own dreams.”
“Fine with me,” I whisper.
Shadows writhe and coil around him, wild as a raging tempest.
When he glances at me, his eyes have turned to blazing copper, and primal terror sweeps through my skull. Right now, looking at Talan is like looking at death itself. An image of Viviane’s broken body blooms deep in my thoughts. She crumbles to ash, and cowslips grow where she lay, their petals already withering. Dread unfurls in my chest.
The vision of Viviane slips away, and I’m staring at Talan again, shaking.
I take a step back. And another.
Talan’s clothes shift, turning into a knight’s armor stained with blood. He looks like something from a Fey painting, the forgotten god of death. His sword is larger now, flashing in the dim light of the hallway.
Flames burst from the blade.
“I am Prince Talan, the Dream Stalker.” Beneath Talan’s booming voice is a low, resonant sound like a carnyx that sends dread coiling through my gut. “I am the Butcher of Brittany, a spirit of vengeance, and I leave only death in my wake.”
The shadows shriek as they catch fire, and smoke coils through the hallway.
“Kahedin!” Talan coos. “The Dream Stalker comes for you!”
He strides back to the door, and I hurry after him. The rest of the nightmares are now racing from him, trying to get away.
We cross back into the hall, which has become a dark dungeon. A naked Arnesta wields a whip.
As she sprints for Talan, he runs his sword through her chest. Blood drips from his sword, and she disappears into thin air.
Slowly, Talan turns to face Kahedin, who shrieks with fear.
Talan stalks closer to the lord, moving with an unhurried pace. He seems to savor Kahedin’s terror, drinking it in, feeding on it.
“No matter where you are, I will always find you,” Talan says in a lethally quiet voice. “I am your worst nightmare.”
“Yes.” Kahedin shuts his eyes in fear. “Please, Dream Stalker…let me go. I will do whatever you want. I agree to your letter.”
Talan turns to look at me, and I see the shadow of dark horns growing from his head. “And there we have it.”
He steps closer to me, and magic swirls around us as if it’s binding us together. His raw, magnetic power thrums over my skin, making my heart race.
“We can leave now,” he whispers.
But it’s not reassuring. Even after everything I’ve seen here, what scares me the most right now is that he will want to know why I look so utterly human in my own mind.
And I have no idea what I’m going to tell him.