Page 85 of Vale of Dreams

“Should I call for help?” the girl asks.

“No need, sweetie. I have it under control. No one is taking you anywhere.” Fingers tighten around my arm, and nails dig into my flesh. “Move. Slowly.”

She spins me around and starts walking me back out. With the blade against my throat, I take small, measured steps to the door, and she reaches around me to pull it open.

The moment we’re outside, she slams me against the wall, her knife immediately back on my throat. Right now, with my hands and feet still numb from cold, I have no chance of fighting her off.

“Okay, then.” A lock of dark hair falls in front of her face as she bares her teeth, and I realize she doesn’t have the canines of a full Fey. “Start telling me who you are.”

She isn’t wearing armor or anything else that would make her look like a soldier. In fact, she’s wearing what looks like a silk nightgown. Her silver eyes have the metallic sheen of the Fey, but her ears are round.

There’s something weirdly familiar about her, but I can’t quite place it.

“You’re demi-Fey,” I say.

Her lip curls. “Perceptive, aren’t you? I suppose you don’t like the demi-Fey very much. Mongrels, the trash of Brocéliande, and all that?”

I swallow hard, regretting the powerful, meticulous glamour that disguises me. She wouldn’t believe me if I said I was demi-Fey, and I’m still not clear if I should blow my cover. “What I mean is, you’re not Fey military. They don’t accept demi-Fey.”

“Obviously, I’m not Fey military,” she hisses. “I belong here.”

“This…this is a fortress belonging to the royal family. Or a rogue branch of them. The Blue Dragon Project. I saw it labelled on a map. Is it a weapon? Is the Blue Dragon a weapon of some kind?”

“Is it a what?” she asks incredulously. She blinks a few times, then lets out a snort of laughter. “Yeah, yeah, it’s a weapon. It’s horrific. The children scream when they use it. So, who the fuck are you?”

Slowly, I start to put together why she looks familiar. The dark hair, the bright silver of her eyes that blends to blue. The straight, black eyebrows.

“Do you know someone named Ysolde?” I ask.

She goes still, gripping my collar with her free hand. The blade eases just a little from my throat. “Where did you get that name?”

It’s her.

I suck in a deep breath. “I know your brother. Raphael.”

Her eyes widen, jaw dropping open. “Where is he?”

Of course, I’d love to help with their family reunion, but I have a job to do right now. “I’ll tell you what I know, once you tell me what you know. What’s the Blue Dragon Project?”

She narrows her eyes. She’s breathing heavily, debating whether she should kill me now or let me live. But she’s not going to sever the one thread that would lead her back to her brother. “Okay, then. Let me show you. We’ll take a walk down the stairs. I’m removing my knife from your throat, but make a sudden move, and I’ll slit your throat so fast, you won’t even have time to scream.”

I give her a nod.

Slowly, she eases the blade off my neck, keeping a vise-like grip on my arm as I walk down the stairs. I can feel the blade prodding at my back.

I steady myself on the stone wall as I descend. When I push through the door into the courtyard, the cold night air hits me, and I glance up at the moons.

Ysolde’s fingers dig harder into me. She snarls, “Don’t even think about trying to escape. Keep walking if you want to see the Blue Dragon. Through the archway.”

We’re heading for the second courtyard that I saw on my way in. And as we cross through the stone entrance, I gasp. A dragon looms above us in the dark.

Except…it doesn’t move. It towers over us, immobile. As she shoves me closer, details start to emerge. Like its unblinking glassy eyes. Or the handful of twigs scattered over its feet. It’s painted an iridescent blue, and its surface is smooth as metal. One of its wings swoops up toward the parapet, unmoving.

A ladder stretches up its side, and a slide runs down alongside its tail. It’s a fucking playground.

“I give you the Blue Dragon Project,” Ysolde says, and she points the knife at my throat again. “Terrible, isn’t it? The kids can climb up the rungs, dangle from its mouth, and jump into that sand pit. See? And they can walk inside its belly and look out the windows. It’s a real travesty.”

“Why is this place here?” I finally ask.

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