Page 121 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
“Perfect,” I smile. “And I’ll work on my impression of dragon bait. Between the two of us, we’ll be the least appealing pair in all of Avorlorna.”
The Great Hall’s grandeur immediately strikes me. The vast circular space is carved directly from the mountain, its walls adorned with intricate geode formations that catch and reflect the light streaming in from high windows. Crystal chandeliers hang from the vaulted ceiling, their facets casting rainbow prisms across the polished stone floor. At the center of the room stands a massive circular table. The Radiants are seated there, their faces animated as they converse, the clink of fine silverware punctuating their discussions. To the side, the Shadows occupy a smaller, less adorned table.
Legion’s hand, a comforting presence on my lower back, falls away. He drops seamlessly into his persona of the Knight Commander, his handsome face an impassive mask. With a curt gesture towards the smaller table, he says nothing and moves to join the “grown-ups.”
A staff member collects my bag and guides me to the only free chair. Unfortunately, it’s beside Alfie, but not even his sour look can dampen my mood.
“You’re in a good mood this morning,” he sneers.
Sitting on Alfie’s other side, Dahlia gives me a knowing smirk. “I wonder what put that blush on your face.”
“You would know,” Alfie shoots back at her darkly.
I ignore their continued bickering and help myself to food. The spread is a feast for both the eyes and the nose. Platters of glistening fruits are arranged like jewels, their colors vibrantagainst the pale stone dishes. Freshly baked breads release tendrils of steam, their yeasty aroma mingling with the sharp scent of aged cheese.
As I load my plate, I sneak glances at the Radiants, my eyes inevitably drawn to Legion. Even from here, I can see the tension in his shoulders and the way his jaw clenches as he listens to whatever the Earl is saying.
I tune my shifter senses, hoping to catch snippets of conversation. Ignarius taunts Larkspur about the suspicious lack of Nightmares. Someone asks a pointed question about falsified reports. But before I can hear more, Alfie leans in, blocking my attention.
“There’s only one reason why a Shadow shares a room with their Radiant,” he says, voice low and accusatory.
I sigh, setting my fork down with a soft clink. “It’s none of your business, Alfie.”
His face flushes an angry red. “We’re engaged,” he hisses. “Or have you forgotten that?”
I pray to the Well for patience and look him dead in the eyes. “I know we’re in the House of Stone, but have you grown rocks in your head? We’renotengaged. We haven’t been for years. Move on.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize the table has gone silent. All eyes are on me, and I feel my cheeks heat. I replay what I just said in my head, hoping I haven’t revealed secrets. Alfie’s breathing grows heavier and more labored with each passing second, his anger palpable between us.
He’s going to be a problem. Part of me thought he’d lose interest, but attention is becoming an obsession. I’m not his biggest fan anymore, but I don’t want him killed by one of my six possessive mates.
The Earl stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the stone floor. He declares loudly his intention to challenge Puck to a duelwhen they return to the Nexus, the winner to receive custody of the Baleful Hunt once and for all. Then, to my surprise, he gestures to Legion, announcing that the Knight Commander will be his second.
A frown pulls at my brows. What does this mean? Legion stares stonily ahead, giving a slight nod of confirmation, but his eyes betray nothing. The Earl sits, and the Radiants’ conversation becomes more trivial—the next scheduled revelry on the Gentle Interlude’s program—something about a new challenge for the leaderboard.
I roll my eyes and turn back to our table. Most Shadows discuss the duel’s implications in hushed, excited tones. Alfie has gone quiet, his thoughts turned inward. At least it’s not me he’s focused on anymore. He’s tapping a chaser charm on his thigh, a rhythmic pattern that sends a telltale tingle of magic brushing against my skin.
“What are you doing?” I ask, suspicion coloring my voice.
He drops the stone like it’s hot. “Nothing,” he replies too quickly. “It’s none of your business.”
“Whatever,” I mutter, deciding to let it go for now. At this point, engaging in conversation with him is more trouble than it’s worth. I turn my attention to wrapping a few more delicious-looking cakes and treats from the table in crisp linen serviettes. Maybe I can sneak more into my bag. The troop will love them.
Chapter 50
Willow
The blistering cold bites through my cape as we return to the camp outside Heliodor’s gates, making my cake gift seem inadequate. My friends nod along, feigning interest as I recount tales of the palace and the impending duel, but their eyes betray their weariness. When Bodin barks orders to pack up for the journey home, they spring into action with renewed vigor.
Bodin’s gruff demeanor toward me initially seems part of the ruse, mirroring Legion’s public stance. It suits me fine, considering the full moon’s impending rise along with my temperature. Going into heat during this journey might even be a blessing. The crisp mountain air should mask most of my scent from Legion, preserving his vow. Bodin and Styx will sleep in a separate tent, and the exhausted mortals—even Alfie, far ahead with his troop—should pay me no mind.
As twilight paints the sky in muted purples, confidence swells within me. No accidental acts of calamity tonight. But as we huddle around the crackling campfire, steam rising from our bowls, Bodin’s announcement shatters my peace.
“We’ll salvage this pointless expedition by elevating your dreamscape training tonight.” A chorus of groans ripplesthrough the camp. Colin’s hand shoots up, his voice tinged with fatigue, “Won’t we be too tired to dream?”
“There are ways of inducing dreamscapes,” Bodin replies, his tone brooking no argument.
Maggie scoffs, “Better not be me. I don’t want you all seeing what I dream about.”
