Page 50 of Summer's Seduction

“Is that so, Dahlia?” Epialos growled, the menace in his voice unmistakable as he took a step forward. The name sent a chill down my spine, tugging through memories I’d long since suppressed. “Then the whispers of her powers of persuasion slipping through even your spells are false? Her eighth name day is next month, and still, she feeds half as often as one of your dark ones.”

Dahlia stepped back, pulse jumping and hands flexing as she fought for composure. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll bind her powers again if I need to. Better yet, I’ll curse you to never know her. Maybe then your influence will ebb.”

A snarl tore through him as he seethed. The faces distorted in his darkness, eddying in their silent torment. “She’s my daughter. You won’t keep her from me.”

A wave of night rose behind him as Dahlia turned, racing towards the trees, only for Larkspur to run forward, shielding her mother. Her small fists were clenched, eyes set in a fierce glare, but it was shock and awe radiating from Epialos’s eyes.

Night froze and flakes of snow halted as they fell from above. Time seemed to pause as Epialos reached out a shaking hand, brows furrowing, as his gaze turned glossy.

“My daughter?—”

A bright burst of light shot over Larkspur’s shoulder, hitting Epialos in the chest. His body exploded into shadows, tendrils of night swirling as they fought to merge.

A weight settled in the pit of my stomach as the chaotic web of Larkspur’s past mingled with resurfacing memories of my own. I finally understood why terror was gripping my body.

Queen Dahlia was the last true queen of The Kingdom of Nightmares, meaning Larkspur, my little monster, was the lost princess.

Dahlia gripped Larkspur’s wrist, jerking her toward the trees. Larkspur’s brows furrowed as she glanced from her mother to where the cluster of black was forming. I could see questions flitting through her gaze—and for the first time, she seemed to sense something wasn’t right.

“Larkspur,” I called, keeping pace as they ran. “This is a dream.”

For a moment, she saw me, her eyes going wide, and in the next, we were falling.

LARKSPUR

Icrashed into the damp earth at the bottom of the pit, my shoulder hitting first as I rolled to minimize the bit of impact. The fine silks of my dress were coated in mud and grime, all revery of the night destroyed. The half-domed drains were set into the base of the cylindric towering walls, linking to the sewers under the castle and crawling with rats. Mold and decay coated the slimy stones, and my previous visits here proved they were much too slippery to climb.

“Fly, daughter. Call on your wings, or this will be your world for the next month.”

My cheeks burned with anger and humiliation as light eyes and silver-blonde hair looked down at me from above. My father’s disgusted glare stung—my mother’s absence even more.

It was my tenth name day. All our people had come to celebrate, even some from The Slumber Kingdom and, if rumors were to be believed, a witch that could travel to The Realm of The Living. I’d been looking forward to it for months—a little bit of light in this otherwise tired world. But Father had destroyed all of that. And Mother had let him.

A rumor had been circulating about my birth, one that had called my mother a whore and me a bastard. Nothing aboutmy looks or magic was similar to my father, but he was fair where Mother was dark. It wasn’t unheard of for me to take her likeness. He would have brushed it off most days, but Father had already been drinking, and my lack of wings was a sore subject.

I’d embarrassed him. By doing nothing but existing, I’d earned his disdain.

And he’d earned mine. Ihatedhim more than anything in this world. The great King Olysseus was nothing but a fragile, hollow man. It was my mother’s line who’d kept this throne through millennia of living in The Underworld. Not him.

If my nursemaids were to be believed, he appeared one day in the forest, looking as if he’d never flown a day in his life with his gray wings dragging behind him. He’d attack Mother upon seeing her, fangs ripping through skin like a boy on the cusp of becoming a man, unable to control his impulses.

Nostrils flaring at the hypocrisy of it all, I found the worn rock along the far edge and slumped down. Retreating into my mind, I imagined belonging to a loving family who didn’t care if I never grew wings. I pictured what it would be like to have a sibling, a little sister, maybe. She would follow me everywhere, and I could teach her everything there was to know about The Kingdom of Nightmares.

Images of a blond-haired girl with rose-colored eyes flashed through my mind, the two of us giggling at two squirrels bickering along the trunk of an oak tree. One day, when we were old enough, we’d rule this kingdom ourselves. One day, no one would have the power to hurt me.

Drawing my knees to my chest, I tried to bring that life into being. Then, the wisps of a man flickered before me. He was screaming my name, golden eyes wide with the effort but no sound came from his lips.

Brows furrowing, I stood, reaching out to the ghost and wondering if today would be the day my mind finally broke. His hand gripped mine, his touch warm and oddly familiar.

My childhood melted away, years flipping through my mind in a rush of pain and grief and then finally slowing into something that felt like relief as recognition flooded my veins.

“Morpheus?” His name broke on a cry as confusion gripped my throat.

“Yes, little monster,” he breathed, pulling me into his arms in a fierce embrace. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

A sob rocked through my chest, but I fought to listen to what he was saying.

“This is a dream, one that my magic can’t snap you out of.”

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