Page 127 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
Chapter 52
Puck
Arustling, like fabric caught in the wind, pricks my ears. My eyes dart to the stable doors.
“Emrys, check it out,” I command, my voice echoing off wooden beams.
His upper lip curls, flashing teeth. “Since when do I take orders from you?”
“Let me out,”the Baleful Hunt whispers, its voice a cold tendril slithering through my mind.“I’ll investigate for you.”
My fists clench.“Stay put. Until after the trials—after I’ve secured my leadership.”
Emrys narrows his eyes, scrutinizing me.
“Fine. I’ll go,” I snap, irritation crawling under my skin.
“I’m only helping you, Puck, because it aligns with my goals,” Emrys drawls.
I scoff. “Which are?”
His lips twitch. “For a moment, I almost laughed.”
The Hunt’s whispers grow more insistent, demanding respect. It hisses that the new King of Avorlorna would never tolerate such insolence.
“Hush,”I tell it.“The sooner we finish this, the faster you’ll have your wish. I’ll release you, but first, I must cement my position. For that, Titania needs to vanish.”
Murdering her in her chambers is impossible with the Keepers hovering about—they’ve barred me entry, claiming I’m unpredictable with a dragon inside. But if I unleash the Hunt prematurely, who’s to say it will return to host within my body? I need the crown first.
“Why not let me turn those wood-faced demons to stone, then?”The Hunt’s voice purrs seductively.
“The Keepers? I’ve explained why.”Their masks repel magic—not foolproof, but long enough to raise the alarm. Guards could potentially blind me, negating the Baleful Gaze. It is difficult, but not impossible if they cooperate.
The Keepers are here to control the Shining Host. They have contingencies.
I rake my fingers through my hair, frowning as fine dust sifts onto my shoulders. My joints creak as I brush it away, muttering, “Damned drafty palace . . . can’t keep the sand out.”
“Is something wrong with your head?” Emrys asks, gesturing at my face.
“He’s mocking your eyebrows,”the Hunt jeers.“Turn him to stone. Let me out!”
I glare at Emrys. “Are you insulting my appearance?”
“Simply stating you’re looking rather . . . gray,” he observes, eyes narrowing.
I wave dismissively. “It’s this blasted lighting. Everyone looks half-dead.”
The Hunt chuckles.“Trouble with your complexion, Puck?”
“Shut the fuck up,” I hiss, pacing. “I can’t focus with your incessant nattering.”
My boots crunch on straw. An itch crawls beneath my skin like sand, burrowing deeper with each step. I scratch absently, nails scraping oddly rough flesh.
Howling wind rattles the foundations. Nightmares in their pens shriek and growl, a hellish chorus. But they can’t escape—I had the doors rebuilt floor to ceiling.
“Double-check their pens,” I order Emrys. “We can’t risk a single escapee.”
These creatures slipping through must mean something is amiss between Titania and Oberon’s bargain. But I can’t allow the knights their martial law. My power would evaporate.
