Page 6 of House of Gilded Nightmares

“And the joining ceremony is tomorrow?” The words feel dry and tangled in my throat.

“Tomorrow night. One sunrise and one moonrise after the Choosing. At midnight.”

The next part I remember well because I’d always found the idea of it unsettling. “And the joining itself…will be witnessed by the two eldest priestesses?”

Lilette nods slowly. “The other coriata will hold vigil in the main chamber of the cathedral. The joining takes place in the smaller chamber behind the altar.”

A shiver runs over my body. Though I’d grown up knowing that the High Priest and Priestess performed a joining ritual to appease the goddess and supply magic to Eldare, I’d never gotten used to the idea of such an act being on display.

“And after the joining is over?”

“You’ll have another month before you have to do it again.”

I turn this over in my head. Can I do this, in order to provide for my realm, for my people? It is one of the highest positions in Eldare, aside from the king, the queen, and the High Priest. I know all the other coriata are envious of my position, would trade places with me in an instant. Especially those who were alive when the magic came back, who have served the High Priest with no magic these last twenty-five years.

So why does the idea of it make me want to scream?

“I can do this,” I say, forcing the wobble from my voice.

Lilette is silent for a long stretch before she speaks, her voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to be strong tonight. Tomorrow you can be strong.”

I suck in a shaky breath and melt fully into her embrace. And the tears do come, and the night and Lilette’s soft skin claim them.

This time, when my meadow turns from light to shadow, I call the dagger into my hand before I even hear the growl of the monster. The black metal feels cold and heavy in my palm, and though my heart beats faster, it’s not entirely from fear.

The shadows move along the edge of the valley wall and I measure my breath, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. When it bursts from the shadows, I am ready. This time I do not shrink away. This time I meet it head-on. Because here, in the dream, I can control my fate. Here, I am not going to let the monster take me. I am going to make him fear me.

I crouch and spring upward as it comes for me, and my blade finds flesh. There is a rending of muscle and bone as I cut through the black wings that threaten to envelop me, a spray of warm blood. The creature shrieks in pain and falls away from me, realizing too late that I am not easy prey. Quite the opposite. I am the hunter now.

It flails and retreats, but as I advance on it, it does not turn and run. Instead, it stops and bows. Folding its body low to the ground, it prostrates itself in front of me. I’m so taken aback by this gesture that I stop my forward assault, going still. The cold wind whips my hair around me as I stand beneath the mountain peaks.

And then he is there, the warrior. He approaches slowly, cautiously, eyeing me and the monster. As if he’s not sure which of us is the biggest threat. His silver eyes finally rest on mine, and I can’t read the expression there. Confusion, perhaps? Disbelief?

“Sarielle,” he says. My name, spoken in his deep voice of starless night, just as he had in my last dream.

“Who are you?” I ask, not lowering my blade.

He doesn’t answer my question. “You’re in danger,” he says instead.

I hold his eyes a moment, gold sparking against silver. I wave a hand to the beast cowering at my feet. “Hardly.”

“Not here.”

His words make my stomach clench, a wave of unease sweeping through me.

“Not in the dream. Out there,” he says, waving his arm in a wide arc as if pointing to the sky.

And then I wake up.

When dawn streams into my room, a pale, rosy light, it finds me already awake. The daylight mocks me, asking why I ever thought I could live a life remotely within my control.

No, that chance had faded away the first moment I showed signs of magic, which was no doubt the reason I’d been dropped off at the palace gates as an infant. That, and my strange appearance, so unlike anyone else in Eldare.

I hadn’t been able to sleep at all after the dream, so disturbing in so many ways. The way I hunted the monster, how bloodthirsty and vengeful I’d felt. The exhilaration when my blade met bone. How it bowed to me. And then, the warrior speaking yet again.

You’re in danger.

Why do dreams always have to be so cryptic?

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