Page 128 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
Emrys tugs on his gloves, striding toward the exit. How dare he ignore me.
“Stop!” I command. “I gave you an order.”
He reaches for the doorknob. A gust of frigid air carries the scent of frost and fear . . . and a figure stumbles in. A cape. Silver braided hair. Female.
Their Shadow, the?—
“Danger! He betrayed us!”The Hunt roars, clawing for control.
Emrys’s surprised expression baffles me. Is this betrayal or something else? Either way, I don’t wait to find out. I bolt for the opposite exit, slamming it behind me before my grip on the Hunt slips.
I stumble back, releasing the pressure building inside. The Hunt’s gaze erupts from my eyes, striking the stables. Wood crunches, transforming into solid rock before me.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I pound my forehead. “Look what you made me do!”
The Hunt’s laughter grinds like stones in my skull.
“Turn it back then,”it taunts.“Or don’t you know how?”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I need those monsters for the trials. My plan to claim the crown relies on moving the trials forward. IfI can’t kill Titania in her bed, sending blood-thirsty exhibitors to murder her dream form is the next best option. The result might differ if she projected in Avorlorna. But Oberon—her ancient, twisted mate—has bound her to Nocturna for the Gentle Interlude.
Any harm done to her astral form outside her own dreamscape is lethal.
Everyone believes she slumbers to freeze the watergates, but that’s only part of the bargain. The other half: Oberon grants her people a reprieve from war if she returns to satiate his sick desires. I was so in love with her—so in awe.
Until the Hunt revealed her warped reality, including my wish. She does all of this for greed because she wants to have all the riches of Avorlorna for herself—without her mate’s influence. They’ve been fighting like this for eons.
I force myself to breathe. To think. The weight of my schemes threatens to crush me. My limbs grow heavier each day as if gravity’s intensifying. But I can’t falter now—not when I’m so close to true power.
The stone stables loom, a monument to my lapse in control. Emrys and that silver-haired witch—Willow—are trapped with the Nightmares.
The Baleful Hunt’s laughter echoes in my skull, a constant reminder of the precarious balance I’m trying to maintain. I grind my teeth, forcing myself to focus.
“Alright,” I mutter. “Think. How do we salvage this?”
Willow.
The one Titania fears.
“Why?”I ask the Hunt. “Why does she fear this mortal?”
“Finally, you ask the right question.”
Chalky flakes dust my sleeve. I brush them off, staring at my nails. They seem harder and slightly discolored.
“Just stress,”the Hunt soothes.“Lack of sleep and this dusty palace—that’s all.”
Yes, I lack sleep. As I pace, the Hunt reveals more of Titania’s secrets. A plan crystallizes—risky, potentially disastrous, but what choice remains?
I turn back to the stone stables, a grim smile twisting my lips.
“Well, my dear Hunt,” I say, “it seems you’ll get your wish sooner than expected.”
Chapter 53
Willow
The door flies open, and I tumble forward, tripping over someone’s feet and landing flat on my face. I look up, up, and up, realizing in horror what’s happened.
