Page 99 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
My mind travels to the wisps Titania kept in jars in the temple and how they’re now gone.
“It tells us,” I shout. “That something is wrong with the magic keeping the gates frozen.”
The Earl gestures to the map again. “These are the Nightmare sightings since the start of this year’s Gentle Interlude.” He plugs in many pins around the Nexus, but even more around the city of Heliodor. “These are the nightmare sightings since two days ago.”
They’ve doubled.
“Titania’s magical slumber is failing,” someone mutters.
“War is returning faster than we expected,” the Earl admits. “We can no longer afford for you to remain inside these protected walls while Avorlornians are dying.”
“What are you saying?” Alfie asks, eyes shrewd. “That you’re canceling the exhibition?”
“I’m saying,” the Earl replies, “there might not be anAvorlornaif we don’t do something now.”
Gasps ricochet off the curved walls.
“For the following week,” Legion announces, “the exhibitors will take a pilgrimage into Heliodor—the House of Stone’s home territory. Goodfellow refuses to release the Baleful Hunt to patrol the area, so the exhibitors must do it instead. Return to your towers, pack your belongings for a long, cold journey, and reconvene here at noon.”
Alfie starts to protest, as does Dahlia, but Legion silences them all with a dark, unbending gaze that scares even me.
“You will be traveling in small groups,” he continues. “Each will have a Radiant taking point. Every dragon-bonded member of the Shining Host will be with us. Your mission is to scout and nothing further. You report to your leader what Nightmares you’ve seen, if any, and where. We aim to send more experienced soldiers to track the terrors back to their watergate. Do not engage the monster, but if you’re discovered, use your knowledge from the Nightmare Codexto exploit the terror’s weaknesses and escape. We wish you to remain alive and return with this vital information. Is that understood?”
A chorus of “Yes, sir” repeats around the room.
“During the expedition,” the Earl adds, “we are not guarding your dreams. Hence, you will face rogue dreamscapes from your fellow exhibitors. This is the perfect opportunity to receiveschooling on tactics for evading or escaping them in preparation for the trials . . . or if war comes sooner than planned.”
The acrid scent of fear starts to build in my nostrils. I look upon the sea of faces, draining of blood. It makes me sick to my gut that we’ve been spending this time lulled into some kind of false sense of security, content to spend our time partying, having fun, smiling. No one’s smiling now. War is not glamorous. It could be here before Titania wakes. Before the trials and the Interlude ends. And we’re woefully underprepared.
Chapter 40
Willow
It doesn’t take us long to pack travel bags stuffed with supplies, strap weapons to our bodies, and pull on furred cloaks and thick leather winter gear. Geraldine, Max, and I say goodbye to Peggy, Cricket, and Finch in the castle foyer near the entrance. Titania’s portrait stares down at us from the wall, her painted eyes seeming to follow our movements. The air in the foyer is chilly, and the scent of old stone and faded tapestries fills my nostrils. Our footsteps echo off the high ceilings as we say our goodbyes.
Varen has already worked himself into a tizzy at our departure. He was napping when we returned to the castle, and now he appears more chaotic than usual, his hair sticking up at odd angles and his clothes askew.
“No,” he says, shaking his head, refusing to let go of me. His grip is surprisingly firm, his fingers digging into my arms. “If the queen leaves a hive, the other worker bees don’t know what to do.”
“It’s okay, Varen,” I say, gently disentangling myself from his arms. His skin is clammy against mine, and I feel him trembling slightly.
“The colony can collapse without her pheromones to guide them.”
“We’ll be fine. Legion wouldn’t send us on this pilgrimage unless he’s certain it’s safe. In fact,” I pat his arm, trying to soothe him, “he’s doing this to prepare us. We need it. My friends need it. It’s a good thing.”
But he keeps returning to how the honeycombs need repair. Usually, I make sense of at least half of his ramblings, but today, I’m stretching.
“They’re broken,” he says, slapping his hand on the wall. The sound echoes through the foyer. “The honeycombs are broken. They’re looking, but I can’t find it, and they won’t find it unless she’s here. The queen bee mustnotleave the hive, or the worker bees will follow her.”
“Just a few days,” I tell him, trying to keep my voice calm and reassuring. “I’ll be back. Keep the honeycombs . . .” I shrug, thinking to myself, I don’t know. “Keep working on your plan. Show me when I get home.”
Somehow, this seems to appease him. He nods, scrubs his face with both hands, and walks away, his shoulders slumped.
The baby Wild Hunt tries to follow me as I exit the castle, its tiny claws clicking on the stone floor.
“No, Hunt. Keep Varen safe. That’s your job.” It whimpers, its eyes big and pleading. But then I say, “He’s got some yum-yums for you.”
He’s off, chasing Varen up the stairs. I shake my head, but I’m smiling. That dragon understands more than everyone knows.
