Page 67 of Vale of Dreams

“It’s just…” I say with a choked voice. “It’s been so difficult. I know it’s stupid, you see me in this gorgeous bedroom, with all these clothes, and amazing food, and with you looking after my every need. And of course, I’m grateful. But…I just feel so lonely here. Without my friends. Without my father. I don’t know if you realize, but the women here don’t really like me very much. And I woke up in the middle of the night, and I just couldn’t sleep, and I needed to get out, and…” By now, I’m sniffling, my voice cracking, tears streaming.

“Oh, my poor girl!” Aisling wraps me in a hug. “It’ll all be alright. Here, get back into bed. I’ll go get you some fresh breakfast. Maybe you should stay in bed and rest for a bit today.”

I pull off my cloak. “Thank you, Aisling. You’re taking such good care of me.”

“Think nothing of it, love. You just rest, okay?”

“Okay,” I say meekly, curling under the blanket.

But rest is far from my mind. If tonight’s taught me anything, it’s that I haven’t been working hard enough. I need to start making riskier moves, getting more information faster.

And it begins with getting closer to Talan.

CHAPTER 23

Istalk the halls of Perillos, dusky light radiating through the windows in shades of molten gold kissed with rose. If I’m going to get into Talan’s room, this is the time of day to do it. I sift through my memories for all the thoughts I’ve overheard from him.

In the somber, dusky veil of twilight, light withers to mortal hues. Silence enshrouds me, and I’m buried in ashen grey. The burning sun, snuffed out like a life cut short…

His thoughts can be strange, nearly impenetrable, but they give me a sense of him. Twilight can be beautiful, but it always feels like a lonely time to me, when the daylight starts to die. I remember it being worst on Sunday nights, for some reason, when the sun started to set. It was always such a sorrowful feeling of having missed out on fun, a certainty that I’d spent too much time alone, that I’d be headed into another day of corrosive loneliness at school, where I always seemed to say the wrong thing or wear the wrong thing…

So, even if his thoughts were wrapped in strange phrases, I understood him.

Outside Talan’s room, an armored soldier stands in the hall, gripping a pike—a member of the King’s Watch. I take a deep breath and try to look serene. As I near the sentry, I summon the image of the veil in my mind, feeling its power hum over my skin. My protection from Talan’s invasive magic.

The guard glares and shifts his position to block me. “Is the prince expecting you?”

I put my hand to my chest. “I’m his chief mistress. Of course he is.”

Everything about the guard is silver—his armor, his eyes, his long hair. He peers down at me. “Are you the one from Lauron?”

“What do you mean, ‘the one from Lauron’? How many mistresses does he have?”

“It’s just that I’m from Lauron,” he says softly, “and I’ve never seen you.”

My blood runs cold. “Well, we were at the outskirts of town.”

He narrows his pale eyes. “And your accent.” He speaks slowly. “It’s not quite right for a Lauron farm girl, is it?”

My heart slams. “Is it really your place to question the prince’s chosen?”

His gaze sweeps down my body. “It is my job to protect the king and his family, so yes. What do you have on you?”

I look down at my dress—the sheer, pale blue cloth, the gold embroidery, the lace in just the right places to hide everything. “What could I possibly have on me?”

The truth is, I do have something on me—the replica key wrapped around my wrist. And I don’t want this guard going anywhere near it.

His jaw clenches. “I’ll search you before you go in.”

“Do you really think the prince wants you touching his mistress?”

“As I said, my job is to protect him. And something isn’t right about you.”

I swallow hard. “Oh, forget it. I’m not letting you touch me. The prince will hear of this.” I turn to walk away from him, and he grabs my arm. “Get your hand off me,” I snap.

But his grip is iron. He’s hostile, suspicious, and I need to change his perception. So, when he yanks me, I let go and topple backward onto the floor. Agony shoots through my wrist, and I grunt with the pain, which is quite real. “Why are you hurting me?”

“I didn’t mean to.” His face blanches. Good. His fear and guilt are already clouding his mind.

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