Page 144 of Curse of Darkness
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I dreamof a bloody battlefield with bodies strewn everywhere. Broken pennants snap in the wind. The flag of Asturia lies crushed and muddied next to the body of its bearer.
Golden skirts gleam beneath a blazing red sun, my mother’s bloated body steaming in the heat.
“Put my throne here,” I command as my warriors stack the bodies of my enemies before me.
They place the throne right on top of that pile of butchered corpses.
And then someone places a spear beside it, with my mother’s head upon—
I gag and turn away, fighting against that destiny.
“If not you,” whispers the crown, “then it will be her.”
The dream twists, and this time it’s my head on that spear, with my mother reigning triumphant over her new kingdoms. Thiago is bound before her, bloodied and broken, and as he screams through his gag when he beholds what is left of me, my mother smiles as if to say his death will not be so kind.
In the distance, ravens caw and pinwheel through the sky.
My heart starts racing, fear trailing clammy claws down my spine.
These can’t be the only two options we have.
“Please,” I beg, twisting and turning.
“Iskvien?” says a voice, one I almost recognize.
“You will shatter Unseelie and destroy the Seelie alliance,” the crown purrs. “So was it spoken. So it shall be. There is no escaping your destiny. You will be a queen who conquers nations. A dark queen rising….”
“No!”
“There you are…,” whispers a voice in my head.
It’s a voice I half recognize—one that’s been whispering in my dreams for far too long—but as I toss and turn, I can’t escape the prickling sensation that runs down my spine.
I try to move, but my limbs feel so heavy. And even as I sense something kneel on the bed and lean over me, my eyes refuse to open.
“Wake up,” says the voice, and fingertips press between my brows.
My eyes jerk open. A shape leans over me.
It’s like liquid shadows are woven into a fae-like form. Moonlight-gilded eyes lock upon me, and raven hair tumbles over his brow, but his expression is a mask of darkness.
“Who are you?” I reach for Thiago—
And my hand passes right through him.
It’s only then that I realize my body lies asleep on the bed. My hands are mere shadows of their actual selves, and all the physical sensations of a body are muted. A single leap might carry me over a mountain.
“This is a dream.” No, a nightmare. We placed webs over the bed to protect our dreams while we’re here, but somehow it hasn’t worked. “You’re one of Maren’s dream thieves.” My voice rises. It’s said that she uses her team of dream assassins to remove her enemies in their sleep. But some whisper that they don’t merely die—they’re hauled into choking nightmares that literally frighten them to death. “What do you want with me?”
“I’m not one of Maren’s little poppy-addicted dreamers,” the stranger sneers. “Can’t you feel it, Iskvien? Can’t you feel me?”
A pulse shimmers through the air.
A throb….
I lean into the Hallow’s slow and steady heartbeat. It’s miles away from the court, but the leyline runs right beneath us. And as I look up, I realize the crystalline shimmer of the leyline seems to trail from the stranger’s forehead.
