Page 107 of Valkyrie Unknown

“It’s beautiful.” Awe filled her voice. “The flowers are new.” Was that a downward tilt?

“I was inspired. I don’t even know what they are.”

“Lily of the valley.” She spoke softly. “They mean purity and luck.”

I could see why she might think neither applied to her, but purity wasn’t just about sex. Besides, I brushed my thumb along her skin, and my mind hummed at the connection. “I think you’re good luck.”

She handed my phone back. “I think sometimes you’re naively optimistic.”

“Only sometimes.” It was better than the hole of despair I’d lived in before I met Finn. “And I’d rather be the fool than the king.” Or in this case, the queen.

The more time I spent with her, the more I was convinced that she was meant to be the one with power after this prophecy ended. That wasn’t a burden I wanted, and while she still had some growing to do, she was strong enough to take on the world.

I still wasn’t willing to surrender my life in order for her to have that, but we’d made promises. I’d see her ascend so I could have my art and my life back.

I was in an empty lot. Weeds sprouted all around me, but somehow I was in the one spot in the middle of it all with bare ground.

Or it had been bare. I stared in confusion at the images in front of me, sketched in packed dirt, were multiple images.

My hands hurt. My fingernails were cracked and dark from mud and blood. My head ached.

I had no idea how I’d gotten here.

Fuck. It had been months since I wandered into the middle of nowhere in my sleep like this. Not since Azzie showed up.

There had been a few times between then and now when I woke up to pages of sketch paper spread out around me, that I had no memory of filling with multiple versions of images that meant nothing to me. I’d stayed in my room for those, though.

The pictures in front of me now made as little sense as always. Unlike other times I’d blacked out and drawn though, this didn’t look like variations of the same image. This was more like… a hallway? Were those rooms?

The dirt made it impossible to make out details, but the entire thing left me with a sense of dread. With the vague impression of death. Azzie’s. Davyn at Finn’s hand.

Both notions made me want to retch, but I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat.

Great. My brain woke up before I did and chose torment.

Tell them.

Who? Azzie? Finn or Davyn?

I should probably talk to someone about it—sleepwalking to sketch out what felt like deathly visions, in the middle of large dirt clearings, couldn’t be normal.

What was I going to say though? Anything I told Azzie was as likely to be interpreted as prophecy related as it was to get me help. She’d dive into searching for answers, but I doubted my solution lay in the back of an ancient tome.

I could call Diego… and he could have me committed.

My head throbbed harder.

“Oh.” The soft voice drew my attention.

I jerked my head toward the sound, to see the woman from yesterday—Callie—standing on the other side of my impromptu drawing session.

What was I supposed to say?

“That’s not how it happens.” She pointed at one of the squares.

What? “How what happens?”

She looked at me with wide eyes, as if she’d just realized I was here. Dark shadows lined her face, and she looked as haunted as I felt. “Sorry. Nothing.”

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