Page 98 of This Vicious Dream

On the fourth morning, I wake to find Calysian watching me with a predatory gleam in his eyes. My thighs clench, my toes curl, and I let out a long, shuddering breath, avoiding his gaze until we mount our horses.

Information is currency between us, and we trade memories. I tell him of my time at court, and the women who were once my rivals, enemies, and companions.

He tells me of his time exploring the fae kingdom, describing breathtaking sunrises and fields of wildflowers.

When he turns Fox west at the crossroads—in the direction of Elunthar—warmth spreads through my stomach.

It’s unlikely I’ll find any information about the pirates in Elunthar. It was the first place we docked so long ago. But still…

“Thank you.” My voice is rough, and Calysian’s gaze drifts over my face. I’ve felt him watching me constantly. For a man committed to his grimoires, he still insists we make camp each day hours before the sun goes down, demanding that I rest.

And, when I’m sure Calysian isn’t paying attention, I watch him too.

Everywhere we travel, women caress him with their eyes, likely picturing him naked. They watch as he radiates his casual confidence, and it’s easy to see why they’re so attracted. Calysian has the air of a man who knows what he wants and has no doubt he will get it.

“What are you thinking?”

I clear my throat. “Nothing.”

Calysian gives me that indulgent look he so enjoys—the one that tells me he knows I’m lying, and he’s choosing to allow it.

I give him the haughty look I’ve perfected—the one I know irritates him to his core.

He merely grins at me.

I roll my eyes. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going yet?”

“South.”

“That’s all you’re telling me?”

He angles his head, as if waiting for me to snarl at him, but I know what he’s doing. I did, after all, refuse to tell him anything that would allow him to get to the grimoire before me.

It’s a strange feeling—knowing we can trust each other with our lives, but not with information.

I clear my throat. “Are you still…weakened?”

I’ve seen little of Calysian’s power. When I asked him about it yesterday, he admitted he channeled that power into the horses to ensure we would get to the healer in time.

His eyes jump to mine. “Yes. You were worth it.” The words are stark, his eyes strangely clear. I suck in a breath, and he gives me a strange smile. It’s almost…gentle.

My heart thunders in my chest, and he returns his attention to the town in the distance. Elunthar is only a tenth of the size of Nyrridor, but that should make my questioning easier.

The sun is high in the sky by the time we make it through the town to the dock. And everywhere I look, I see Daharak.

On one corner, we’d sat outside with drinks in our hands as we took in the oddly slanted roofs patched with mismatched shingles, the buildings painted in bright teals and sunburnt yellows. I’d laughed as I’d watched seagulls swooping low, stealing bites of fried fish from those who grew distracted, failing to guard their plates.

These were the first steps I took on this continent. And it had seemed as if my life was finally beginning.

“What are you thinking?” Calysian’s voice is carefully neutral, and I blink away hot moisture.

The lump in my throat aches, but for some reason, I tell him.

I tell him of the night I spent in one of the taverns with the pirates, all of us betting and laughing and eating our way through plates and plates of fresh food. I’d eaten so much fruit I’d felt queasy, but it was worth it when I conquered the craving that had plagued me for weeks on the ship.

Someone had begun playing music, and the whole room had erupted into motion. Tables were shoved aside, old leather boots stomped in rhythm on the polished wooden floor, hands clapped to a tune so lively, it was as if it had been composed by someone who had never known anything but joy.

“You danced in a tavern?” Calysian asks, flashing his dimple.

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