Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
With a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, Adric took one step past the boundary between the castle grounds and the wildness of the Nightmare Realm, his body going tense from the expectation of a sensation he knew only too well—that of hitting an invisible wall, its magical charge tossing him back to land ignominiously on his ass.
But that didn’t happen. Instead, nothing happened.
The beautiful, long-forgotten nothingness of freedom.
He took another step, then another, then another after that, then drew in a breath of air that was no different from the air he’d breathed for millions upon millions of years, and yet it was entirely, devastatingly different.
Because now he could move through it with no invisible wall keeping him caged.
No curse laid down by an emperor who had died fearing the world of unity that Adric saw so clearly.
He was free. Truly, gloriously free.
He spread his arms, soaking in a strange kind of joy. He’d lived without freedom for so long that its return seemed almost painful, like blood returning to a limb that had been numb for an eternity.
With something like awe, he flexed his hands, rolled his shoulders, and forced himself to simply stand still. To feel the excruciating loveliness of a world without walls.
Behind him, the Great Hall still hummed with the aftermath of the ceremony.
Music had begun before he and Cora had even left the dais, and by now the reception would be in full swing.
Wine flowing. The fire crackling. His subjects celebrating their king’s freedom and his bride’s beauty in equal measure.
His bride.
Cora had stayed by his side for a few moments after the curse broke, then she’d squeezed his hand and slipped back through the gate to give him this time alone.
He’d been too lost in the air and the sky to mark the moment she left.
Only now, turning, did he see her through the open doors, navigating the crowd with a grace she didn’t seem to know she possessed.
The gown caught the light as she moved—silver and gold threads blazing against the snowy white.
She carried herself like someone who belonged on a throne, and her poise didn’t surprise him.
She and Finn were the Emperor’s last heirs, after all.
They were born as royals, whereas he, the current king, had won the throne through fire and sacrifice and loss.
And the blood that had spilled during his conquest gave him the greater claim.
It was right that Cora should be his. He won his crown rightly by conquest, yet a king without a queen of true blood was only half a thing. With her, he was finally whole.
He saw her pause by her uncle, and the two of them began chatting with someone in court robes whose face Adric couldn’t see.
Then she shifted, scanning the crowd, her gaze moving past the silver fire to land on Chase.
The moment it did, her body seemed to go softer, and a cold, dark jealousy roared through him, with something else rising beneath it.
A pull. Unfamiliar and faint, but unmistakable—a swell of helpless, hopeless, bone-deep love.
His chest tightened. She was his woman by law and by right, and still, he could not fully claim her.
He studied his brother, who stood at the far edge of the hall, back against a pillar, arms crossed. Not hiding. Just existing at the periphery, the way he always had. The Watcher. The Guardian.
And Cora loved him.
She’d told Adric so, of course, but seeing it reflected in her smile—hell, in her posture—sent something cold and dark spiraling through him.
He forced it away. After all, he knew the depth of the pull between him and Cora.
A wildness that was devastatingly pure and all-consuming.
A need as demanding as hunger. Hard and wild.
Passion.
But what he saw now as she looked at Chase was love. And in that moment, Adric hated his brother. Worse, he envied him.
He pushed the thoughts aside as unimportant. She wore his blood. She was his betrothed. And never would she be bound to his brother.
For now, that would have to be enough.
With long, purposeful steps, he walked back into the hall and crossed to her. Chase had already gone, and the courtier she’d been speaking with melted away as Cora turned to face him with an expression that was part warmth, part wariness.
“Dance with me.” It was an order, not an invitation.
She tilted her head, her brows raised. “I don’t know any of your dances.”
“Then we’ll make something up.”
That got a laugh—short and surprised and genuine. And upon hearing it, a tiny bit of his jealousy faded.
“Please,” he said, then took her hand and led her through the crowd, nodding at courtiers who bowed, ignoring the way Kali’s gaze tracked them from across the room. When they reached the edge of the hall, he steered her through one of the hidden side doors.
“I thought we were going to dance.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she said, and that simple response shattered the last of the fragile doubts that had been dancing in his mind.
He led her through the castle’s back passages—past the kitchens where staff were ferrying trays to the reception, past a courtyard where a few of the guests now mingled, then through an archway that opened onto a stone bridge spanning the gap between the main castle and a secondary tower.
The bridge was ancient—older than the castle itself—and guarded on both sides by carved sentinels of black stone, their faces worn smooth by centuries of sand and wind.
But their silver eyes tracked the passage of anyone who crossed.
“What are those?” Cora asked, pointing.
“Soldiers,” he said in response to Cora’s questioning glance. “They’ve guarded this bridge since before my imprisonment. No one but me crosses without their permission. Not even Kali.”
“And they’re giving me permission?”
“You’re wearing my blood.” He stroked her cheek, relishing the softness of her skin. “So long as you do, my love, you can open any door you wish.”
“Oh.” She reached up, her fingers gently brushing the vial. And though he knew it was only his imagination, he felt the echoing warmth of her touch rushing through his being.
Beyond the bridge, the path descended through terraced gardens that had been Kali’s project centuries ago—flowering plants that had no business surviving in desert air, but grew robust here, sustained by old magic woven into the irrigation channels.
Blooms in brilliant colors that contrasted the orange darkness of this realm.
The path wound downward through the gardens, and Cora’s pace slowed as she took it in.
“I didn’t see any of this when we arrived,” she said.
“You came in through the front. And you had other things on your mind.”
“I had a lot of things on my mind.”
His brother, he thought, and let the silence hang until they reached the point where the gardens ended abruptly. One moment, manicured paths and impossible flowers. The next, raw desert.
Before them, sand stretched to the horizon, broken only by the dark shapes of rock formations, the distant shimmer of heat, and the magic that was woven throughout all of the realm.
“Why are we stopping?” she asked as he took her elbow and drew her to a halt beside him
“Because this is where the castle grounds end on this side of the castle.” He gestured at the sand beyond.
“Everything from here forward is pure Nightmare Realm. Unprotected. Uncultivated. The things that live out there…well, most of what’s out there cannot survive in here, and most of what’s in here wouldn’t last a night out there. ”
He watched the way her face changed as understanding came over her. Her eyes went to the desert, to the vast emptiness where the wolves ran and worse things hunted. She and Chase had survived. Their companion had not.
“I’m sorry about your friend.”
She looked at him sharply. “Whistler?”
He inclined his head. “The wolves had no way of knowing that you and your companions would have been welcomed as guests.”
“Kali knew.”
“She did,” he said, working to keep the fury out of his voice. “I have dealt with her. As for the wolves, most are either wild or have been trained by Kali. You would be wise, my love, not to wander the realm unescorted.”
“That’s not exactly comforting.”
“It wasn’t meant as comfort. This is your home now, but it is also hers.
And Kali has a streak of jealousy within her that is very unappealing.
She knows the consequences she will face if she harms you or yours.
But even so, this is a realm of shadows and fears.
Mind your back, my love, and trust that I have eyes on Kali. ”
She nodded, then turned in a circle, as if purposefully moving the conversation forward. “So, you really rule all of this?”
“I do.”
“But how? You haven’t been able to move through the realm in ages. What do you even know of it?”
“I have not set foot beyond the castle grounds in longer than you could possibly comprehend. But Kali acts as my foot soldier. Plus, I have always had my scrying pool. And with every hundredth moonset, representatives from the villages come to the castle to update their king.”
He put a finger under her chin, making certain that she was meeting his eyes. “I know what happens in my realm, Cora. I have eyes everywhere, and I see everything.”
A shadow seemed to pass over her face. “Do you see my—”
She cut herself off with a shake of her head.
“What?”
She rolled her shoulders back. “My love for Chase. Do you see that? Do you understand it?”
It was a legitimate question, but it wasn’t what she’d intended to ask. He frowned, wondering what question she was hiding. He suspected it had to do with her mother—the woman she still grieved. She’d told him during one of their walks that Cassie Lyte died screaming in a nightmare.
He did not press her for the real question. Some questions kept their power by not being spoken aloud.
“Adric?” she whispered. “Answer the question. My love for Chase. Do you see it?”
“Yes,” he said, hating the words. “I do.”
For a moment, she simply looked out at the beauty of the desert stretched out as far as the eye could see.
Then she turned back to him. “Where do you want to go? You’re free now.
You can go anywhere.” The corner of her mouth twitched.
“I mean, we should probably go back to the reception, but it’s your party. Literally.”
He frowned, thinking. In all the long years of his imprisonment, he’d imagined this moment more times than he could count—the first place he’d go, the first thing he’d see.
He’d pictured the other realms. The Realm of the Others, with its fairy-tale-like magic woven through the plants, the stones, the people.
Even the air. Or perhaps the Unseen, where magic pooled like water.
Even Retribution, where Mordhal—the prison he’d ordered built—stood like a dark sentinel in that dank and dusky realm.
But standing here with Cora, none of those places mattered.
“I want to see the Realm of the Real,” he said. “Your world. The way you see it. Not through a scrying pool. I want to stand where you stand and breathe the air you breathe.”
“Really?”
He watched as a flurry of emotions washed over her face. Hope and fear and something else—homesickness, maybe, even though she’d been in this realm for only a few days.
She tilted her head, studying him. “Of all the places you could choose, you really want to go to St. Augustine?”
“I want to see you in the place you call home.” He paused. “And in a way, it is a wedding present for you, too.”
“Really? How?”
“I thought you might like to see Tia.”
“Oh.” It was as if he’d said Open Sesame. All the invisible armor she’d been wearing since she’d crashed in his realm melted away, revealing a young woman who missed her best friend so badly it was written in every line of her body.
“Only seeing,” he said quickly. “At least for now. We can’t let her know we’re there.”
“Why not?”
“Because you are coming back with me, my love. That will be hard on you. Speaking with your friend will only make it harder.”
“Adric, no, I—”
“Those are my terms. The choice is yours.”
A single tear streaked down her cheek, but she nodded. “Yes. I want to see Tia. So, yes.”
“Good,” he said, then reached for her hand.