Page 16 of Thief of Dreams
I see my death in its eyes.
I scream, kicking backward across the floor as the Wyrdwolf lunges for me, but then Keir is there. Hot golden light spills through the hallway, a flaming sword flickering to life in the prince's hands. It cleaves right through the Wyrdwolf's neck, and the afterimage burns my retinas.
Blood spatters across my skirts as the head rolls across the floor. The Wyrdwolf's body slumps into a boneless mess on the floor, and as I watch, its blood seems to run together into puddles and its ribs cave in. The fire in its chest dies. Wherever it came from, without that fire, it’s no longer bound to this plane.
Prince Keir kneels at my side, the sword evaporating into nothing. "Are you all right?" he demands.
"Fine." I stare at the dissolving puddle of sludge on the floor as I push to my feet. "What happened? How did that—?"
"I'll take care of it." He steps between me and what remains of the Wyrdwolf, as if he's hiding something. "Are you sure you're fine?"
Curse it. I forgot to swoon. No help for it now. "Well, as much as I enjoyed dinner, itisthreatening to return with a vengeance. Apart from that—and the stink—I think I'll survive." I pause. "Thank you for the memorable evening."
The Prince of Dreams stares at me for a long, slow moment, and I have no idea what's going on behind those dangerous eyes. "Not quite what I had planned."
A smile escapes me. "You did get to show off your excellent skills with a blade and rescue the damsel from the nightmare. If I didn't smell like something that just died, I might be inclined to grant you a kiss."
"If a nightmare didn't just crawl out of the Shadow Realms and attack two of my guests, I might be inclined to accept it," he says in a dry voice.
Only a puddle of sludge remains on the floor. "How did it get here?"
There's that hesitation again, as if he knows more than he wants to reveal. "I'm sure my guards will perform a full investigation. You should clean yourself up and go to bed, Lady Merisel. I'll take care of this."
If I didn't smell like I'd rolled in a rotten carcass, I might take exception at being dismissed so readily. "As you wish, my prince."
An almost-kiss from Keir? Or the snap of a Wyrdwolf's jaws?
I don't know which one has proven more dangerous tonight.
* * *
I ripplethrough the shadows as Keir directs his servants to remove the mess in the hallway and see to the body.
Armored guards pour through the halls and the gardens, but I can't get close enough to hear what they're looking for. It's clear that nobody expected the Wyrdwolf to leap out of nowhere, and Keir's expression imitates a brewing storm. This is his court. His reputation on the line. Somehow he has to tell Lady Altrea's father that his daughter won't be coming home.
"How did it get in?" murmurs the Captain of the Guards, looking worried. "The safeguards are—"
"Impenetrable," Keir replies, kneeling by the body. He drapes his robe over Lady Altrea, hiding her from view and perhaps granting her a certain dignity. "I've checked. Nothing came through the portal."
"Then someone here opened a portal," says the captain.
"Or," Keir adds grimly, "we're dealing with someone who can twist the dream realm into flesh. This wasn't real. A true Wyrdwolf wouldn't have died so easily. It was dream-forged."
The captain falls silent.
Either way, it's not a pleasant thought.
To manipulate an Other World requires either a dangerous sort of power—or a relic. It's also a direct challenge to the prince.
Perhaps I'm not the only one who took advantage of the Summons to attend. Every princess in the palace has their own agenda, after all, though I thought they were mostly benign.
But why would someone murder Lady Altrea?
Was she competition? Was it a grudge?
Why reveal their hand so swiftly? They have to know Prince Keir won't take kindly to the threat.
Unless…. Whoever did this has the power to twist a world Prince Keir controls. Maybe this is a deliberate taunt, and they intend to challenge the prince for his court.
