Chapter 19
NINETEEN
ALLERIA
I wake with the taste of blood in my mouth.
For one terrible moment, I’m still in the dream, standing in the lodge with Cowen’s head dripping on the wall, armor humming against my skin, and satisfaction curling through me like smoke.
Then the morning light hits my face, and the sensation fades, leaving me gasping in tangled sheets that smell of lavender.
Did you enjoy the show, Moirthalen?
I squeeze my eyes shut. His voice had been so clear. As though he’d been standing right beside me, his mouth close to my ear.
Forty-four.
Nella shifts beside me, and the mattress dips with the movement, chasing away the last traces of the dream. She stayed the whole night.
I should be grateful. I should feel safe. Instead, all I feel is him.
I can still smell the blood. Copper and salt, thick at the back of my throat. I swallow against it, yet the sensation doesn’t fade. My hands remember the weight of the poker, the way it fit in my grip, the slight burn of the iron against my skin. And my ears remember the sounds Cowen made when—
I curl onto my side, pressing my face into the pillow, breathing through my mouth until the nausea passes.
It wasn’t real.
I lie very still. It was a nightmare. My mind does that sometimes.
Takes whatever fears I carry in daylight and twists them into something worse while I sleep.
After my mother died, I dreamed for months about being the one to find her body.
How she was lying in her bed, eyes open and staring.
But I wasn’t the one who found her. And I had to remind myself night after night that it was just a dream.
This is the same thing. I saw the cages at the Dell, the trophies, and the way the huntmaster smiled, and my sleeping brain spun it into violence.
That’s all.
My throat hurts, and I swallow against the soreness.
The slight pain brings back the memory of my screaming—how it tore out of me before I was fully awake, how I couldn’t stop.
The guards’ faces in the doorway. The way their hands went to their swords before they realized there was no intruder, just a princess who couldn’t tell the difference between dreams and waking.
Nella stirs behind me.
“How are you feeling?” Her voice is still thick with sleep.
I should turn over and look at her. Give her something reassuring. Instead, I keep staring at the hunting scene above me, and try to find words that aren’t lies.
“Tired.”
The mattress dips as she sits up. “I’ve never heard you make sounds like that.”
I haven’t either. Even during the worst of it—when Cairn had his hand around my throat, when I thought I was going to die—I don’t think I screamed like that.
“It felt real. It felt …” I don’t know how to finish that sentence.
Nella’s hand finds mine. “Do you want to talk about it?”
My stomach lurches. I breathe through it. “No. I don’t remember it all now. Just how it felt.”
I roll onto my back and look at her. Her hair is a mess, half-escaped from its braid, and there are shadows under her eyes.
“I’m sorry I woke you.”
“Don’t be silly.” She climbs out of bed. “I will arrange breakfast. You need to eat something.”
I don’t argue, and she walks to the door, and stops a passing servant. When she returns, she crosses to the hearth, and crouches to stir the embers, coaxing the fire back to life.
It isn’t long before a servant arrives with a tray laden high with bread, honey, sliced fruit, and tea. She gives me a curtsey.
“The king would like to see you once you’ve eaten, my lady.”
“Thank you.”
She leaves, and I force myself to eat something because Nella is watching, while my mind replays what happened in the great hall. The words that came out of my mouth. The silence that followed.
“Father must be furious.”
Nella pours two cups of tea, hands me one, then settles on the bed beside me.
“I’m sure he’s worried, not angry. You were kidnapped by a fae, Alleria. You spent days as its captive, and then you came home and … said those things to Lord Vessen. If I were your father, I’d be worried too.”
She’s right. I know she is. But the thought of facing him, and trying to explain why I said what I said … it makes me want to crawl back into bed and never come out again.
“I need to wash. And dress. I should at least be presentable.”
Nella helps me into a simple wool gown, in a pale pink that makes my eyes roll. But I know my father will like it. She pins my hair back from my face, and when she’s finished, she steps back to survey her work.
“You’ll do. You look tired, but you’ll do.”
A knock at the door interrupts us.
“Lady Alleria.” A page’s voice, high and nervous. “The king has requested I escort you to his study.”
Nella’s eyes meet mine through the mirror. I take a breath, stand up, smooth my skirts, and walk out to face whatever comes next.
“Enter.”
My heart is beating fast when I open the door and walk into my father’s study. He’s sitting behind his desk, papers spread before him, a cup of tea at his elbow.
“Alleria.” He sets down his pen and gestures to the chair across from him. “Sit. Please.”
I take the chair opposite him. My hands want to twist together in my lap. I force them to stay still.
“How are you feeling?” His eyes move over my face. “Did you sleep?”
“Some. I had a nightmare, but I’m fine now.”
“I was informed.” He learns forward. “What did you dream about?”
I think about telling him. For a moment, the words are right there.
I dreamed about the fae who took me. I dreamed he killed everyone at the Dell. I dreamed I watched him do it.
But it sounds crazy, even in my own head. And it was just a dream.
“I don’t remember most of it. Just bits and pieces. Nothing that makes sense.”
He studies me. I hold his gaze.
“I … wanted to talk to you about last night. What you said to Vessen.”
Here it comes. A lecture about propriety, and a reminder that I’m the king’s daughter. The gentle but firm instruction to apologize and smooth things over.
“I know I shouldn’t have said it.” I get the words out before he can speak. “I was tired and overwhelmed, and I let my emotions get the better of me. It won’t happen again.”
“That’s not—” He stops, rubbing his temple. “I’m not angry with you, Alleria. I’m trying to understand.”
That’s … not what I expected to hear.
“You went through something terrible. Being taken by a fae, held for days, not knowing if you would survive. That kind of experience … it changes a person. I wouldn't expect you to come back from it unchanged.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you?” his eyes search my face. “Because the daughter I know would never have spoken that way. Not because she doesn’t have strong feelings, but because she knows how to control them. What happened last night wasn’t like you.”
I don’t have an answer for that, because he’s right. It wasn’t like me. Or maybe it was like a version of me that never existed before.
“I’m just tired. Everything that happened … It’s still catching up with me. I need some time to adjust.”
He doesn’t say anything. I can see in his eyes that he’s deciding whether to push more or not. Then he sighs and leans back in his chair.
“Is there anything else?”
He’s quiet for a moment, then he rises from his chair and comes around the desk to stand before me. His hand finds my chin, tilting my face up to look at him.
“You have your mother’s eyes. Did you know that? The same shape. The same way they change color in different lights.”
My throat tightens.
“She would have known what to say to you right now. She always knew.” His thumb brushes across my cheek. “I’m not as good at this as she was. But I want you to know that whatever happened out there … whatever it is that you don’t think you can tell me … I’m here.”
I blink hard, eyes burning. “I know.”
“Go and rest. Perhaps you should spend a few days in your room and relax, instead of joining us for meals.”
He’s trying to avoid another outburst. I could argue, but in truth I have no interest in being stared at, so I nod and rise, grateful for the dismissal, and guilty for the things I’m not telling him.
The walk back to my chambers takes me past the east wing, where the windows overlook the private gardens. The morning sun has broken through the clouds, casting pale gold light across the hedges and paths below. I pause at one of the windows, letting the warmth touch my face.
I should go straight back to my room. Stay out of sight until the talk about last night dies down. But the thought of those four walls closing around me makes my chest tight. I need air. Space. Something other than the echo of my own thoughts.
So I turn toward the gardens instead.
The paths are mostly empty at this hour. A few gardeners are working among the hedges, and I walk without direction, letting my feet choose the route.
Voices reach me from around the next bend in the path. Women’s voices, light and laughing. I slow my steps, not really wanting company, but the path offers no easy escape.
Lady Maren, my sister’s closest friend, and two of her companions are seated on a bench near the fountain, their heads bent together. They look up as I approach, and a quick glance passes between them.
“Lady Alleria. What a surprise to see you out and about.”
“I needed some air.”
“Of course. Fresh air is so restorative.” She gestures to the space beside her on the bench. “Won’t you join us? We were just discussing Lady Ashworth’s upcoming party. There’s a rumor that her betrothed is bringing fae entertainment.”
“Entertainment?”
“A dancer, I believe.” Lady Rosa leans forward. “They’re supposed to be exquisite. All grace and otherworldly beauty.”
“Worth every coin, I’m sure.” The third woman, Lady Helene, fans herself. “I saw one perform last winter. It danced for hours without stopping. When it finally collapsed, they dragged it off and brought out another.”
Maren laughs. “That’s the advantage of buying in pairs. You always have a spare.”
“The trick is breaking them young,” Rosa adds.
“Before they develop … attitudes. Start the training early enough, and they’re perfectly docile by the time they’re grown.
They’ll do whatever they’re commanded without a moment’s hesitation.
” The look in her eyes suggests she’s not talking about dancing anymore.
“Like trained dogs. Only prettier.”
They all laugh, light tinkling sounds, as though this is the most amusing thing they’ve discussed all morning.
I should walk away. I should smile and nod, then make an excuse and leave.
“Training?” I hear myself say instead. “You mean torture.”
The laughter stops. Lady Maren’s smile freezes on her face.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Breaking them. Training them. You are talking about torturing them until they do what you want. Do you even hear yourself?”
Lady Rosa’s mouth has fallen open. Lady Helene is staring at me like I’ve sprouted a second head.
“Lady Alleria.” Lady Maren’s voice has gone cold. “I understand you’ve been through an ordeal, but that’s no excuse for—”
“For what? For pointing out that you’re discussing the abuse of living creatures like it’s no different from choosing fabric for a new gown?”
“They’re fae.” She says it the way you’d explain something to a child. “They’re not like us. Everyone knows that.”
“Everyone knows, so it must be true … is that how it works?”
The silence stretches between us while Lady Maren glares at me.
“Perhaps you should go back inside.”
“Perhaps I should.” I turn around and walk away before I can say anything else. But their whispers follow me down the path.
… more happened to her than she’s saying …
… not right since she came back …
… my husband says the fae can do things to the mind …
I keep walking, spine straight and eyes forward. The gardens blur around me, and by the time I reach the entrance to the east wing, I’m almost running.
Brennan finds me in the hallway outside my chambers. He takes one look at my face and straightens from where he was leaning against the wall.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. I just—I need to—”
“Alleria.” He steps in front of me, blocking my path. “Tell me.”
So I do. The words spill out of me in a rush. About my clash with Maren, the things she said, the way they looked at me when I objected.
When I finish, Brennan sighs.
“You need to be more careful.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” He searches my face. “Because this is twice in less than a day. The court has a long memory, and people are going to start talking if you keep this up.”
“Let them talk!”
“You don’t mean that.”
“What do you want me to do, Brennan? Smile and nod, and pretend it doesn’t bother me?”
“I want you to survive.” His voice is gentler now, but no less firm. “Whatever happened to you after we lost you to the fae … it’s changed you.”
“The way they talk about the fae makes me want to scream.”
“Then you need to learn to scream quietly. I know it’s hard. But if you make yourself a target, there’s only so much your father can do to protect you.”
I nod, and walk past him, reaching for my door.
“Alleria.” His voice stops me. “Whatever you’re feeling … it isn’t wrong. Just be careful.”
I slip inside and close the door behind me. Leaning against it, I press my palms flat against the wood and breathe.
Be careful. Scream quietly. Don’t make yourself a target.
All good advice, but how am I supposed to follow it when I can still see the cages, still smell the filth, and hear his damned voice?