Page 58 of Vale of Dreams

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you mention it?” He lowers his hand.

“Does it matter? You need me to do this, and none of the healers can know about it.”

He frowns, staring at me, then pulls out a silk handkerchief and hands it to me. “Right. Of course. I suppose it doesn’t. Your nose is bleeding.”

I dab at my nose. Red streaks across the blue silk.

“I’ll walk you to your room,” Talan says. “You look half dead.”

“There’s no need,” I say sharply. “I can get there on my own.”

He glances at me. “Has it ever occurred to you that when a prince of the Royal House of Morgan says he is going to do something, he isn’t asking for your approval or permission? I said I was going to walk you to your room, and I will. And I will send my healers for you. I do whatever the fuck I want, love, and when I die someday, I will have no regrets. It’s the privilege of being me.”

Despite the harshness of his words, his voice has a smooth, lyrical cadence that I find strangely soothing.

He offers his arm to me, and I lean against him.

He dips his head to my level. “Come on, then, I can’t have you causing a scene in the hall. I already know how tetchy you get. Even without a headache, you’re wound tighter than a drum, with no release in sight.”

I close my eyes as I let him lead me through the hall, reminding myself that I can’t get comfortable with him—not even for a moment. Because I saw in Ker-Ys mind what Talan would do if he knew the truth about me, and it would make this headache seem like a day at the beach.

CHAPTER 20

Light streams through the windowpanes in my room, painting my silky bed sheets with diamonds of coral. I allow myself to luxuriate in that single moment of contentment.

For two weeks in this castle, I’ve alternated between bad sleep and a constant state of wakeful hypervigilance. No wonder Talan described me as wound tighter than a drum, with no release in sight.

The moment I walk out of my room, my senses kick into overdrive. I’m constantly scanning for information and threats, wary of danger, perpetually fearful of someone discovering the truth.

Throughout it all, I feel what Mordred spoke of. My powers are growing, a nervous energy within me itching at my mind, threatening to burst.

At night, I’ve been drifting into a restless half-sleep. Just as Mordred taught me, I summon the veil in my mind before I fall asleep. And that is managing to keep the Dream Stalker out of my thoughts, but it’s also keeping me from having proper dreams.

Dawn is the time when I can feel like myself again. Right now, as the peach morning light streams into the room, everything seems temporarily perfect. In the quiet of morning, with the birdsong outside, I’m at peace. A few moments of just being Nia, curled in a soft bed, before I throw myself into the lion’s den again.

As I stretch out, a gentle, nervous tap sounds at the door. I close my eyes, inhale, and become Nia Vaillancourt, Prince Talan’s chief mistress.

“Come in,” I say.

The door opens, and my handmaid, Aisling, tiptoes inside. “Good morning, my lady. Should I give you a few more minutes of sleep?”

I’ve asked Aisling to wake me every morning as soon as the sun rises. Even if I’d love to stay in bed longer, I want to get some work done before the rest of the castle starts to stir. A dawn wakeup is an almost unheard-of request for the aristocracy of Brocéliande, but not quite so strange for a simple farmer.

“Thanks, Aisling. I’m getting up. The gods smile on those who rise with the sun.”

She pushes through the door with a tea tray and slides it onto the table by my bed. Steam coils from the teapot. She tucks a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear. “They didn’t tell me that you’d be rising this early, but I’m fine with that, of course.” She sniffles, and I see that the tip of her freckled nose is red.

“Are you all right, Aisling?”

She nods and opens my wardrobe, then starts to rifle through the clothes for dresses. “Oh, well. Not really. My husband left me long ago. And I thought I’d found love again at last. Not that I even really wanted love again, but I wanted someone to talk to. And also I thought if we got married, I might be able to do something else with my life, you know? I guess I wanted something more…I always dreamed of living out in the countryside, learning how to paint. Not that I mind being here.”

I understand how she feels. I used to feel trapped in a life of empty bank accounts and looking after my mom. “Maybe you don’t need a partner for that. You never know when your life might take an unexpected turn.”

Aisling’s expression brightens, and she nods. “I suppose. Never mind. It’s a nice day today, positively sunny. I’ve heard about the Dream Stalker…” She freezes, and her freckled cheeks flush bright red. “Apologies, my lady. He hates to be called that.”

I shrug. “I won’t tell him.”

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