Page 148 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
Willow
We enter the dining room, and a riot of scents and colors assaults me. The table groans under the weight of a feast fit for kings—roasted meats dripping with savory juices, fresh bread still steaming, and fruits so ripe they look ready to burst. The Yule decorations are still up, evergreen boughs and glittering ornaments lending a festive air that feels oddly out of place given our current predicament.
In the corner, Fox still stands in his statue form, a silent sentinel watching over us. Someone has draped a chain of flowers over him, the delicate blooms bright against his stone. My heart clenches at the sight.
To my surprise, the entire hive is seated around the table. Legion is at the head, his imposing figure radiating authority in his official House of Shadow military mandarin collared coat. Long, raven-black hair spills over his broad shoulders as he dips his chin to meet my eyes. “We don’t have much time,” he warns.
“Eat fast. Got it.”
I tense when I lock eyes with Emrys. His fingers drum an agitated rhythm on the table. His pale skin seems to glow, making the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced. He, too, wears his official military coat—black, tailored, and cut to intimidate.
Styx perches on his seat like a bird, ready to take flight. His mood seems to shift with each moment—scowling and then curious. I feel like he’s been unintentionally caught in Emrys’s machinations. But what do I know? He keeps his walls up with me.
The baby dragon huddles beneath the table and gnaws on what looks like a whole roasted chicken. His scales shimmer with an iridescent sheen, changing color slightly with each movement.
And then there’s Varen. He sits beside the window at the end of the long table, looking more refreshed and alert than I’ve ever seen. A sharp clarity has replaced the haunted, faraway look usually clouding his eyes. But there is a strain around the edges, a reminder that he’s not entirely well. Yet.
His long, elegant fingers are wrapped around a steaming mug . . . and he’s not muttering about bees.
“We fed,” he explains quietly, almost nervously. My heart swells, hardly daring to believe it. Emotion fills his eyes as I walk toward him—recognition, wonder, and something deeper I can’t quite name.
I kneel and place my hands on his knees.
“Hi,” I whisper, looking up at him with a tentative smile.
His lips twitch. “Hi.”
That look is everything. My lashes lower, and I drag in a big lungful of his honey and jasmine scent. I’m overwhelmed with emotion, hot and needy. I want to ask if I can kiss him. I need to feel his lips on mine. But if I do, my control might unravel, andI might really do what Bodin asked and forfeit the trials. Maybe run off to Elphyne.
“Yes,” Varen whispers. It takes me a moment to realize what he means. He’s not reading my thoughts.
Is this his psychic ability? Has he seen me ask the question?
A grin splits my face. I leap onto his lap, cupping his jaw. His whole body tenses when our lips meet, and then he melts into the kiss with a soft groan that sends shivers down my spine.
“You have no idea,” he whispers hoarsely against my lips, “how long I have yearned for this moment.”
“Aw,” Styx’s mocking voice breaks the moment. “Do we all get a kiss?”
I twist to glare at him and flip up my middle finger.
“Feeling left out?” I quip, arching an eyebrow. “I thought you preferred your affection with a whole lot of deceit.”
His smirk falters before returning full force. “Come now, fangs. You already know what hole I prefer.”
I squirm and blush. How dare he make me feel . . . I don’t know, like I’m the bad one here. Sort of. I don’t hate him. I just want him to trust me. I want to trust him. “You and Emrys knew how to restore your memories for years, and you said nothing.”
“Technically, I knew for weeks,” he points out.
“You knew in the temple when Fox took your place.” I glare at him, blood going cold. “You lied to me—pretended not to know me.”
His lips part. Close. A blush creeps up his neck. “I was disoriented. It took me a while to realize the truth.”
“You and Emrys worked together?—”
“Don’t lump me in with that wastrel,” Emrys snarls. “My reasons are?—”
“Yourreasons?” I cut him off, anger flaring. “You helped Puck capture Nightmares. You betrayed us all. What possible reasons excuse that?”
