Page 28 of Vale of Dreams

Except that I fucking hate him, and I’m not sure I can mask it after seeing Raphael.

Then again, I haven’t managed to mask it so far, and my instinct tells me that has him intrigued. He’s used to people leaping at his offers, and refusing him might raise me in his estimation.

“I’m not going to be your mistress, and you should find someone else. You have a ruthless reputation, and these few minutes with you have done nothing to dispel it. Frankly, I’d rather light myself on fire in the courtyard than be the whore of a hedonist prince.”

A dark smile curls his lips. “What a coincidence. That is actually an option if you defy me. What would you prefer, really, Nia—living as my mistress, or burning to death outside?”

He goes very still, studying me closely, and his attention sharpens on me like a knifepoint. I don’t think he expected to be turned down, but my refusal has piqued both his curiosity and his rage.

“Being a mistress would ruin my reputation,” I say.

He lets out a sharp breath. “What reputation? For someone like you, a little rustic of pitiable peasant stock, getting fucked by the prince is the greatest honor you could hope for. But I’m not even ordering you to be a real mistress. I’m ordering you to fake it. And in return, you are elevated far above the station that the gods chose for you. The mistress of a handsome prince. You’ll have proximity to the throne, to real power—and all you have to do is everything I say.” His voice is a low rumble that blends into the sound of thunder.

My breath goes shallow. The shocking arrogance of this guy. “Proximity to power, without actually having any. What a gift.”

“No, you won’t have power. But you will have the appearance of it, which is more than you have now. And I get what I need—power over my father. Politically speaking, and likely otherwise, you’re worthless. But you can manipulate minds in a more straightforward manner than my own magic. I can bend people’s dreams, but you can bend their will while they are awake. With you under my command, I can force the council of nobles to ally with me against my father.”

My blood pounds hard. He wants to rebel against his father? “And would people believe that you’d choose a mistress from pitiable peasant stock, since you are so obviously contemptuous of people like me?”

He shakes his head slowly. “I’ve been known to shock the court with outrageous decisions.”

“Why would you want to rebel against your father?”

“That’s not any of your concern. You are my subject and will do what I say. Even if I tell you to light yourself on fire in the courtyard, which is increasingly tempting. But if you must know, my father has small dreams and wastes time. He squabbles in a war with the humans, emptying our treasury.” He shrugs slowly. “Why not get rid of the human problem once and for all? Why not take everything they have?”

My blood turns to ice at the thought of his solution for the “human problem.” I’d heard about everything he’d done when he invaded Brittany—a massacre. The streets running with blood, cities echoing with screams. The man didn’t just manipulate nightmares. The man was a nightmare.

“You want to kill all the humans?” I ask.

“Why not?” he says casually. “And the half-breeds, too. Why spend every last piece of gold on the human problem when I could just end it?”

I restrain myself from lunging at him and trying to bash his head against the wall. “Oh. So, you are as bad as they say.”

“And what else do they say about me?” he asks, his voice icy.

I hold his gaze. “That you torture people for fun while drinking champagne. That even your father thinks you’re too murderous and unhinged to trust with any real power after what you did in Brittany.”

His eyebrows rise, and he leans against the wall. “Is that right? Champagne and a torture show. I must say, it sounds like quite an evening.”

In his thoughts that I’d overheard, he seemed mostly a pleasure-seeker. But at other times, I’d heard his thoughts as he fought ferociously, carving through the bodies of his enemies.

I narrow my eyes. “You have everything you want. A palace. Servants. Any woman or man you could possibly desire. Why spend your days slaughtering people instead of enjoying life?”

“You’re quite imperious for a runt-sized pig farmer, do you know that?”

“I didn’t say it was pigs.”

“But it is, though, isn’t it?”

I swallow. “There are pigs, yes.”

“How many did you manage to keep through the famine? Two? Three?”

“A few.”

“In any case, you just said it yourself, little intruder. Why spend my days slaughtering people when I could do anything I want? Maybe that is what I want.”

He lifts a finger to his lips, his face suddenly alert. Now, it’s much quieter around us. The storm outside has finally calmed, and the music has gone silent.

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