Page 3 of Vale of Dreams

“We need that key!” Serana insists.

And she’s right. We need it more than anything. Without a surprise attack on the Fey realm, they will destroy the British army and the allied forces. And no one believes they’ll stop with that. Auberon will take over the rest of Europe. Maybe the entire world.

My heart twists. If we don’t fix this, Raphael will die in their dungeons.

“Don’t move,” I say. “I have an idea.”

I crawl to the edge of the roof. A rusty drainpipe lines the wall and runs three stories down to the pavement.

I pull off my wool coat, then hoist myself over the edge of the roof, gripping the top of the pipe. It groans under my weight as I start to shimmy down, and something snaps. Dread blooms in my chest. A fall from this height would crush my skull. Frantically, I slide down faster, palms scraping along the rusty metal. With another crack and a lurch, the pipe disconnects from the wall. Fear slams into me. Creaking, the entire thing pulls away from the stone, and I plummet, arms flailing. I grab at a window’s ledge, sudden pain shooting through my fingers as I cling to it, but I manage to hang on, my heart thundering. I scramble and find a foothold on the top of a lower window.

I’m still about fifteen feet above the street, but there’s no way to climb down. No time, either. Bracing myself, I make a jump for it and land hard on my feet, the shock sending waves of pain through my body. Ignoring the impact of the fall, I limp into the light of the gas lamps.

I’m glamoured to look like a full-blooded Fey, with dark steel eyes and sharply pointed ears. I wear the white dress of one of their healers.

I walk toward the soldiers, glancing shyly at them and looking away whenever one of them catches my eye. One leers at me and whispers something to his friend, and they erupt in laughter.

I walk past them, making sure I’m in the path of the captain. A few feet away from him, I pretend to trip and stumble to my knees, crying out. The captain rushes over to me without a thought, reaching out. I take his hand, thanking him in Fey.

And then I summon my powers.

Two magical forces live inside me. One of them, Sentinel powers, lets me break through magical energies. The other lets me read minds. But when they entwine—strands of crimson and violet coiling together—they create something else: the power of mind control.

As our fingers touch, I slip into his mind, and his thoughts wash over me. The captain’s name is Adoran, and he’s drunk, celebrating good news he got from home. His wife gave birth to a healthy daughter. As soon as the Fey beat the human army, he will go back to Brocéliande to see her. They live in a cozy home in the capital city of Corbinelle. I feel his unbridled joy at the idea. Him, Adoran, a father! Does she have his gold eyes?

I force myself to block those thoughts as I push further into his mind. Sometimes, mind control is difficult. But in this case, it’s ridiculously simple. Adoran drank copious amounts of mead tonight, and his bladder is about to burst. I tug at that thought, whispering of streams and waterfalls and trickling water. His need to pee increases tenfold at my suggestions. He’ll never make it back to his room in time. What he needs is a dark alley.

I pull away from his mind and stand, curtsying, and thank him again. After I break into someone’s mind, I’m always haunted by their thoughts—the ghosts of someone else’s memories flitting around inside my brain. For a moment, I fantasize, anticipating the day I’ll get to see my golden-eyed daughter before I recall that I don’t have a daughter. I sweep his thoughts from my brain and hurry away from the group.

Already, the captain is telling his compatriots that he’ll join them later. The poor man is bursting for a piss. Glancing back, I see him turning back toward the closest alley, the one where Serana waits for him.

I walk away, and as soon as the sounds of the group fade around the next corner, I double back, hurrying toward the alley. Adoran is stumbling to the wall, already fumbling with his belt as a figure unfolds from the darkness. Quick as a whip, Serana’s arm twists around his neck, squeezing. Adoran kicks and buckles, then crumbles into her arms, unconscious.

“Nicely done.”

She lays him on the ground, smiling at me as she goes through his pockets. “There’s some money here. And a letter.”

“It’s from his wife.” I can still feel the elated joy he felt as he read it over and over.

“That’s nice.” She purses her lips. “No key.”

“It’s circular,” Tana whispers through the conch. “Maybe one of the coins in his purse?”

I pick up his limp arm to examine a silver bracelet on his wrist. “No. I’m betting this is it.”

Serana tries to turn it, looking for a clasp. But it doesn’t look like it will budge. “It’s stuck on his wrist. I’m betting they welded it onto him to make sure it’s not stolen. Ah, well.”

She unsheathes her long knife.

“Wait!” I grab her arm. “What are you doing?”

She frowns at me. “Cutting his hand off.”

“You can’t do that! My daughter was just born. My wife is waiting for me back in Corbinelle!”

Serana stares at me. “Are you for real? Get a grip, Nia. You’re not him. He’s your enemy. He’s here to kill us all.”

His memories still whirl in my thoughts. I give her a beseeching look.

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