Page 76 of A Dagger in the Ivy

He meets my glare without flinching. “Someone has to, Celeste. You can’t keep running from this forever. Face it now, or it will only get worse.”

I grind my teeth, clenching my fists so I don’t lash out, but before I can retort, Dante throws the practice sword down and saunters away.

“Celeste.” Nadya’s eyes are wide as she shakes her head. “I didn’t know.”

“How could you? You’re in a different room every night.”

When she flinches, I immediately regret saying it. My anger is not intended to be directed at her.

Nadya lowers her head and bites the inside of her cheek.

“Nadya, I’m sorry,” I hurry to say. “I didn’t mean—”

“No, you’re right.” She nods slowly. “I came here to look out for you. To be your friend, especially in a time of need. But I’ve failed you.”

“No. Don’t say that.” I take her hands in mine. “You haven’t failed me. You asked me about it, and I lied to you. That’s on me. Besides, I can’t expect you to fix my problems.”

“And maybe I can’t.” Nadya a crisp nod. “But the magister could. Dante is right. You should tell Ezra.”

The sigh I let out is full of regret. “All right.” I turn to see Ezra approaching us. “Let’s tell him.”

I sit across from Ezra in the lesson room, my palms clammy, and the weight of my secret pressing down upon me like a leaden cloak.

The magister’s gaze remains steady, his expression thoughtful as he processes my confession. “The condition is not unheard of, but I do understand your concerns. Not only because it is dangerous to have no control over where you wander, but because of the possibility of it being a side effect of your fae heritage.” His tone is measured and deliberate. “It is true that those who do not or cannot manifest their powers by the breaching age are prone to madness, and your night wanderings could be a symptom.”

His words send a shiver down my spine.

“Could there be any other reason? I can’t understand why it’s always accompanied by the same dream.”

“Our dreams sometimes try to send us a message about ourselves.” He inclines his head but keeps his focus on me. “Your mother apologizing to you might be your mind’s way of trying to forgive her.”

“Forgive her for what?”

“For abandoning you.”

I shake my head. “She didn’t abandon me. She died.”

“Yes, but you were left without her. In your heart, you may have felt abandoned.”

I try to wrap my head around that. “And the stabbing?”

“Is it always close to your heart?”

I hold a hand to my chest. “The dagger never goes directly into my heart, but close, yes.”

“That might just be the logical part of your brain interfering. If the dagger went into your heart, you would not survive. You know this, and your mind won’t let you be killed in your dream.”

I glance at Nadya, who nods, as if telling me she agrees with what Ezra is telling me.

“The wandering itself could be a pull of sorts, the fae in you seekingthe latent magic, to answer the call of destiny that binds you to a fate beyond your control.”

A silence hovers between us as I take in his words. I suppose there is no hiding from the reality of my fae heritage, and if my inner fae is seeking the magic I’m supposed to have, then I have to believe there must be some way of attaining it.

“I can’t keep your nightmares at bay,” he says, rising from his seat and moving over to his work table. “But I can lend a hand with the wandering. I have a powder which you can add to a drink of wine or water before you go to bed. It will relax your muscles enough to prevent you from leaving your bed in the night.”

He rummages through his potions and bottles and jars until he reappears, coming around the table to place a small, ceramic container in my hand.

I lift the lid and find the container filled with a fine, white powder.

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