A dark, cold fear took hold of her, and she had to look away, or she might burst into tears she did not understand.

She was faced with a row of doors as she fought the emotional outpouring. All were closed. Except one, which was opened a crack.

Compelled, Alexandra moved forward. With all the stealth of her spy days, she eased the door open a little bit at a time. It was a room. Maybe a bedroom? But it was hard to tell as most of the furniture and belongings were covered. Except a few things had clearly been disturbed recently.

And someone was in here. She could hear their audible breaths, though she would need to open the door wider to see who it was.

It didn’t matter who it might be. She should leave. She had no business being here.

But she didn’t leave. She pushed the door open wider until she could see a man. Gazing out a high window—the only source of light in the entire dark room. The shafts of light danced with dust motes and haloed him standing there.

“Lysias,” she breathed.

He stilled—the only sign she might have startled him. Then slowly he turned to face her, his expression utterly blank.

“Were you followed?” he asked.

“Of course not,” she replied. Luckily, the question offended her enough that she wasn’t shaky when she spoke. “No one can guard me for long. What about you?”

He turned to look back out the window. Unlike most of the other windows in the house that she’d seen, it did not go to the floor. It started above Lysias’s tall frame and reached to the high ceiling. “I know the palace too well not to be able to slip away as it suits me.”

“No doubt they’ll find us soon enough with the way guards roam this place,” Al said, carefully taking steps to come closer to him. But not too close. Part of her was afraid if she got too close, he’d be cold or cruel or make them both leave.

“He is paranoid of his own bloody coup.” Lysias shrugged. “Which is fair.”

So they were to ignore last night. Ignore their feelings. Alexandra found she was okay with that for the time being because this room gave her a disquieted feeling in the pit of her stomach, and yet she could not find the sense to want to leave.

“What room is this?” she asked, studying what she could make out of it in the dim light. Though many things were covered, the walls were visible and beautiful. Painted with bright, vibrant scenes that looked like something out of a fairy tale. Princesses in the forests and fairies flitting about trees.

“A nursery,” Lysias said after a beat of hesitation.

“Who’s nursery?” Alexandra replied, smiling as she reached out to touch the outline of a glistening dragon painted gliding above the trees.

He sighed. Heavily. “The princess.”

Alexandra jerked her hand back as if she’d been burned. It felt wrong, she did not know why. She turned to Lysias, though he still simply stood there, hands clasped behind his back, staring out the window. “Why are you in here?” she asked, desperate for him to give her an honest answer.

Becausethisdidn’t seem to be about revenge. There was something...sadder at play here.

He didn’t answer or react right away. Almost as if she weren’t here at all. “I did not mean to be,” he said after a while. Which broke her heart.

She crossed to him, needing to comfort him whether he would accept that comfort or not. He sounded so pained. Looked so lost. She slid her hand up his back. She opened her mouth to speak, but the scene below the high window caught her eye. It depicted a very thick tree trunk, little, colorful birds dancing around it.

But it wasn’t a tree, she knew. Much like the art panel in Diamandis’s office. This was something else.

Another door. She could see the outline of it in the dark paint of the tree trunk.

“Lysias,” she whispered, because she felt a very real fear even though she was in no danger.

“What?”

She pointed at the tree. “This is the door. The door in my dream.”

Lysias didn’t speak. He could not find the words. He wanted to call her a liar, but he saw the way she looked at the tree, where there was indeed a door.

He’dheard hermutter about the door in her sleep. Say something he’d once heard someone else say. When he’d set her inside that door.

Am I safe here?