Page 16 of House of Gilded Nightmares

And that was the last time she used her magic for many, many years.

Chapter Seven

I didn’t sleep the rest of the night. Couldn’t sleep, because the nightmare creatures continued their cacophony of terrifying sounds until just before dawn.

When their dreadful howls finally cease with the plum-sterling lightening of the sky, I fall briefly into a deep sleep. And when I sleep, I dream.

I do not dream of my valley back home as I usually do. I dream of the valley I now lay in. Every detail is the same except for that misty quality of dreams, that blurring and smearing around the edges of things, that lack of physicality in one’s body. And then, of course, there is my dream-self, that fiercer, bolder me who fights the monsters instead of trembling as they roar.

In my dream, I rise from where I’ve been sleeping by the embers of the fire, now barely smoldering. In my dream, I walk toward the river, and I stand on the bank, and I gaze upon the beasts that wait there. Horrifying creatures of shadow and scale and teeth and claws. Red eyes and black eyes and eyes that burn like molten bronze.

In the dream, they have not yet fallen silent. As I approach, they continue their savage song, and they begin to pace in a frenzy along the rock ledge above the water. Only twenty feet separates me from my death. An agonizing death of rent flesh and shredded bones. But instead of the terror I should feel, I simply raise my arms above my head.

And then, I clap my hands together with a crack like thunder that rumbles both earth and stone.

I feel magic coursing through each limb, in my blood, in my toes. I feel powerful. As if a glance could cut down each and every one of the monsters before me. But I do not need to cut them down because they fall instantly silent, and one by one, they bow low to the ground. Same as the creature in my dream the night before.

Satisfied, I turn away from the river. When I pivot to face the other way, I see him. Zyren. About twenty feet away, staring at me as if he’s unsure what he’s seeing. Confusion and fear and the tiniest hint of something that might be wonder in his silver eyes. My dream self walks toward him, the glimmer of magic trailing from her fingertips, golden with sparks of burnt umber. And when my dream self reaches him, she stops.

Too close, our chests nearly touching. Zyren’s eyes burn into mine, looking at me warily but making no attempt to move away. Heat and magic move between us, sparks of shadow and light spinning up into the dim, hazy sky. I reach toward his face, and I trace one finger down across his lips, leaving an afterglow of pale gold on his skin.

And then I wake up.

My heart pounds in my chest as it had when the nightmares began to shriek down at the river. The afterimage of my magic glittering on Zyren’s lips is all I can see. I’m facing away from him, and I can’t turn around. I won’t. I’m not sure how my dreams work exactly, and whether he sees all of them or only some. But even the possibility of him having seen that one makes my cheeks heat up like the embers in the dying fire beside me.

I don’t even know why I’d dreamed such a thing. Zyren is cold and distant at best, outright abrasive most of the time. I don’t feel any sort of fondness for him, let alone the feelings that washed through me in the dream. A feeling of belonging, of connection, of…

I shake my head. I don’t even want to think about it. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I dislike him intensely, especially his plan for me, and I need to escape.

As I lay there, trying to decide what to do, I realize the material covering my body isn’t my white dress. It’s a long, dark cloak draped over my shoulders. Surprise spikes through me, and I sit up and turn to face Zyren.

“Where did this come from?”

Zyren’s face is expressionless. If he saw into my dream, he’s hiding it quite well. “You were cold.”

“Oh.” It’s all I can manage to say because I’m not sure how it makes me feel. I stand and make as if to take it off, but he lifts a hand.

“Keep it. We will reach the nearest town today, and we can’t have you striding up wearing nothing but a thin nightgown. Let’s get moving.”

“What town? How far is it?” I raise my brows.

He frowns. “You ask a lot of questions. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Not used to a woman who speaks her mind?”

“And yet another question…” He grumbles something else I can’t hear as he turns and makes for the trees.

“I can ask more if you’d like to continue your silence on the subject.” I follow him, pulling the cloak around me as a barrier against the crisp cold of the morning. At least I’m dry now. I try to ignore the icy bite of dew on my bare toes as we walk down the narrow passage, deeper into the valley.

“The town is called Yiltsa. We should reach it by late afternoon.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” I know I shouldn’t needle him, but just in case he saw what happened in my dream, I need him to know that my dream self does not share the same feelings I do. I’m beginning to wonder if we’re the same person at all.

“I will pretend that isn’t, in fact, yet an additional question.” He turns back to me with a glower. “Keep up. The sooner we reach Yiltsa, the better. We can get horses and move much faster.”

The small grove of trees we’d camped in falls behind, and the path widens slightly. There are some patches of grass, and in other places, the footing is gravelly. Streaks of orange light from the rising sun cut through the mountain peaks all around us, warming the gray rock.

“You forget that I have no shoes, so pardon if I’m not able to move as quickly as you’d like,” I snarl. “Nor am I particularly inclined to hasten my delivery to the king I’ve never met, who claimed me as an infant.”

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