Page 17 of Vale of Dreams

“How does it look?” I ask.

“Perfect. And your eyes. They need to shine like ours do—dark steel for you, I think—and you need our sharpened canines.”

Magic buzzes uncomfortably over my eyes, and I blink. “How long will this last?”

“Years, unless I remove it. You still mostly look like yourself, with a few tweaks. Tell me, could anyone there recognize your face? The Dream Stalker or the king, perhaps?”

My mind searches through all our encounters. I was in the same place with Prince Talan once, but he never looked at me. I was watching him carefully in the cabaret hall. The entire time he was tormenting me through dreams, I was on a different floor than him. He was in my head, but he never saw my face.

“I don’t think the prince has ever seen me, and I doubt that anyone else would recognize me.”

“Good. A complex glamour that would change your features significantly would fade quickly. But this can last much longer.”

I hesitate. “There might be another problem. He hasn’t seen me, but he’s sensed me. I hear his thoughts sometimes. They’ve gone dark in the past few months, and that made me think he might be back in Brocéliande. And if I end up in his thoughts again, he might sense me. He called me ‘the little telepath.’”

Mordred leans closer. “You hear what?”

“His thoughts. I hear other people’s, too. I’m telepathic, but usually, I have to touch someone to hear their thoughts. But with Talan, I don’t need to be anywhere near him.”

“Do you hear anything useful in his thoughts? Battle plans, for example?”

I shake my head. “I wish. No, it’s mostly dark, poetic, lonely.” And sex. Lots of sex. “I didn’t even know who I was hearing until a few months ago.” All these years, I’d had a private radio broadcast straight from the mind of the crown prince of Brocéliande—a man feared and desired in equal measure.

“Now, that is interesting. So, he might sense you the moment you come through the portal?”

I shrug. “I got close to him once before, in the Château des Rêves, and he found me through my thoughts. He taunted me, then pulled me into a waking nightmare.”

The wind rushes over us, and Mordred’s black hair sweeps over his sharp cheekbones. “Well, that complicates things, but it’s not insurmountable. Before you go in, you must shield your mind from him. As a Sentinel, you should be able to do it. Imagine a cloud of mist or fog in your skull. No, imagine the veil itself. Conjure up its hum in your mind and the shimmering cloud of mist. Block him from entering with a magical barrier. Do it now.”

I close my eyes. My heart flutters, and I summon the image of the veil in my mind until I can hear its hum, feel the electrifying buzz over my skin, and see the pearlescent mist roiling in my thoughts. My skin prickles as though I’m approaching the actual barrier. “Okay. I think I’ve got it.”

He shakes his head. “No, you don’t. It’s not powerful enough. Do it again. Really focus. You need it to last effortlessly while you’re there.”

“I am focusing.” I tighten my fists as the imaginary veil hums in my mind.

“Focus more. You can’t let down your guard when you’re there. If you and the Dream Stalker have this connection, you must get it right.”

I try again. And again.

Mordred berates me and snarls at me, losing his patience several times. He’s far from the patient teacher that Raphael was. But finally, he claps his hands in what I think is satisfaction.

“That’s good enough.” He turns to the dolmens, and his black cape catches in the wind. “Go on. And remember exactly where the portal leaves you off, because you will need to return the same way.”

“Okay. And how do I find the portal key I need to get Raphael back?”

“It will take a while, but my moth will help us. Eventually. Tonight, you should try to free him from his dungeon. Find a place for him to hide in Brocéliande. You and I will work on the key later.”

My heart speeds up at the thought. I might see Raphael again, tonight. I should have come here sooner.

And telling him whose help I used to get him out? That’s a problem for future Nia.

I step closer to the dolmens until I’m standing inches from the rain-soaked stone.

This portal isn’t like the veil, a crisscrossing wall of magic that I could unravel. It’s a continuous vortex of energy that pulls at my Sentinel magic, a black hole drawing me in.

The moment I touch the stone, I fall into the portal. Hard.

CHAPTER 7

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