Page 69 of Of Wind and Terror

“It seems as if your superior breeding couldn’t keep you from being imprisoned,” Draven mocks, and once again, I wish we were in the same cell so I could deck him.

Silence stretches between us, fraught with tension, before I heave out a sigh and say, “I saw Sylvan’s mirrors.”

Draven doesn’t immediately respond, but when he does, his voice is confused. “His mirrors?”

“They looked like mirrors, but they weren’t. Not really. They were…” I shakily scrub a hand through my sweat-matted hair.

Even saying it out loud sounds insane. It shouldn’t have been possible.

“They were?” Draven presses when I don’t immediately finish that sentence.

“They looked like portals,” I finally blurt out.

Silence falls yet again. If I thought the last one was immensely uncomfortable, but it’s nothing compared to this. Unease prickles the back of my neck, and the fine hairs on both of my arms stand at attention. I desperately wish to rub the foreign sensation away but restrain myself. Doing so will only spread the dirt, sweat, and grime already sticking to my skin.

“Portals…” Draven’s voice is rife with disbelief. “Only giants are capable of performing such magic, and they haven’t been willing to make deals with fae in centuries.”

“I know what I saw,” I snap, my tone slightly defensive. I begin to tap my thigh even faster. “Sylvan had portals open to every major kingdom, including my own.”

“I believe you.” Draven seems to consider his next words carefully. “I just don’t understand how he could’ve gotten such magic. Or why he needed it in the first place.”

“At least it explains how he’s able to travel around so quickly,” I mutter, finally ceasing my tapping.

It’s not doing anything to quell the restless energy searing my flesh. If anything, the erratic thumping of my fingers is making everything worse. I can’t seem to keep the beat no matter how hard I try.

Useless.

It’s fucking useless.

“Sylvan has always been a crafty motherfucker,” Draven murmurs with another dry chuckle.

“So how did you end up here? Aren’t you guys supposed to be…friends?” My upper lip curls on that last word.

I don’t have any friends, and for good reason. Look at what Sylvan did to Draven. Locked him away and stole his identity, waging an entire war in his name.

“We were.” There’s the sound of shifting in the cell beside mine, almost as if Draven is attempting to rearrange himself into a more comfortable position. “But then Sylvan started acting…erratic. Raving about things that didn’t make any sense.”

“What type of things?”

“Told me Chaos was awakening and would destroy us all.” I can practically hear the eye roll in that statement. “Even said that the Summer King and Queen have become possessed by Chaos and had to be removed. He seems to believe the only way to defeat Chaos is to create chaos.”

“What the fuck does he mean by Chaos?” I’ve heard of that term, obviously, but the way Draven’s talking about it… “Is that the name of another fae?”

“I honestly don’t know. What I do know is that Sylvan locked me away and began draining my powers.” Then, in a quieter voice, Draven adds, “I can no longer dream walk.”

“Dream walk?”

“I’m the Prince of the Night Court.” Amusement tinges Draven’s voice. “Of course I can enter dreams.” When he speaks again, there’s an undercurrent of anger darkening his tone, turning it sinister and poignant, each syllable the slash of a whip. “Sylvan stole that power from me. Twisted it for his own purposes.”

“And why would he do that?” I drawl, but I don’t care. Not anymore.

I’m already tired of this conversation. I just want to sleep…

“Why would he do any of the things he’s done?” Draven asks rhetorically.

“Because he’s fucking insane?” My eyelids flutter shut, feeling like twin weights against my cheekbones.

“Because he’s fucking insane,” Draven agrees.

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