Page 1 of Lady of the Nightmares

PROLOGUE

AMBROSE

LAST SAMHAIN (OCTOBER), SIX MONTHS SINCE THE DEATH OF KING PENVALLE

The dungeon was as dark as midnight, but I didn’t need my eyes to see.

I kept my face hidden under my hood as the guards led me down the long, rough stone hallway, the bones of rodents crunching underfoot. The stench of death and despair overwhelmed me, and the echo of rattling bars rang in my ears as we passed cell after cell.

No one here was innocent. Nevertheless, their screams put my teeth on edge.

In all the years I lived in the palace, I never once visited the dungeon. It was larger than I expected and more organized than the hole in the earth I’d envisioned as a child. Rectangular chambers lined either side of the corridor, facing inward, with iron bars keeping each captive inside. Sconces on the walls held darkened lamps, the shadows adding to the prisoners’ distress and confusion.

The guard on my right, a human, gave a sharp tug on my arm to no avail. I was willing to feign capture, but I refused to let them drag me. The guard on the left, a Fae male, seemed to realize that.

There weren’t many Fae guards in the palace, but clearly, my brother feared I’d escape with only humans to confine me. It was a misjudgment on his part. For one thing, this Fae guard posed little threat. For another, I was in no hurry to escape. I wanted—no, needed—to be here. Deep down, I suspected Scion knew that. Just as I suspected that he knew I meant to be caught, if not precisely how it happened.

Outside the dungeon, at this very moment, the city of Everlast was burning, just as I knew it would. Just as I predicted, it must.

Two hours ago, I’d stood in the center of the town square, nearly alone in the chaos. Though it was well past midnight, the square was neither quiet nor deserted. Bright orange flames licked up the sides of houses and shops, catching in the thatched straw of rooftops and colorful cloth of flags hanging overhead. The shouts of my nightmares rang out, mingling with the screams of the villagers as they ran from their houses, clutching whatever belongings they could carry.

I winced as I spotted a human woman carrying a child running down a nearby alley into the night. We weren’t here for the humans; we were here because of them.

We came to punish my kind, the High Fae who lived in the city. Those without noble titles but with ten times the strength of those they oppressed. For those who either turned a blind eye to the rot festering in the country of Elsewhere or who reveled in the decay.

We came to attract the attention of my estranged family, who grew too complacent. Who forgot what true misery was. And we came because I’d seen it. Because I knew we would.

A phantom sensation pulled at the nape of my neck, like a thread luring me in another direction. I shook it off.

Riven elbowed me in the ribs. “What was that?”

I glanced over at my friend and grimaced. After all these years on battlefields, he knew me too well and always recognized when I’d had a vision, when the thread of some other future tried to pull me in another direction.

I wanted to say, “Nothing,” but it was impossible. Instead, I said, “Nothing we need to concern ourselves with.”

Riven stood rigid, shoulders back, as he always did. It was partially the armor breastplate he wore that forced him to stand that way, but he was always intense, regardless. It was one reason we became friends in the first place, if I was honest.He reminds me of my brother.

He ran a hand over the tattoos covering his shaved head and looked sideways at me. His green eyes flashed. “What does that mean?”

“It means I already made my choice. There’s no time to change it now.”

There were many times—this being one of them—that I wished I was born with any magical affinity aside from prophecy. Prophecy was never altogether certain. There were endless branches on the tree of life. Infinite threads on the spiderweb, each with varying likelihood of occurring. Pluck one thread, and the vibration would spawn new webs until the end of time itself.

Riven crossed his arms over his chest and opened his mouth again. No doubt, he intended to argue with me. Before he could, however, something flashed out of the corner of my eye. The shadows between two houses rippled like dark water, and I blinked a few times. I threw a hand up to stop my friend from speaking.

After a moment, the darkness shifted and reformed. A male emerged from the alley and advanced toward us. Beside me, Riven reached for his blade. I closed my eyes for the briefest moment.

In most of my visions, it was my cousin Bael stepping out of the alley, shaking shadows off his hair like snowflakes. Of all outcomes for this meeting, that was the most likely and least violent.

“Interesting choice of monocle,”he would say, glancing at Riven. “Not the choice I’d make, but to each their own preference.”

“And what choice would you make, cousin?” I’d ask.

“I dunno. I’m merely saying that if I could never be left alone, I might use that to my advantage.”

I’d roll my eyes. “It might shock you to know that I don’t enjoy the company of tavern whores as much as you do, cousin.”

Of course, Bael didn’t yet understand the value of good friends over good sex—not yet, at least. He was still too young, and no one had yet given him any reason to change.

---