Page 118

“My dreams—well I wouldn’t call them dreams, they would qualify more as night terrors—but I dream and then they become a warped reality. I dreamt of the battle of the Blood Moon and what happened with the demon blade in Gideon’s arm. I saw how outnumbered we would be. That’s why I was so terrified to fight that night; not because it was my first big hunt, but because of what I had seen in my dream the night before.” He looked up to the ceiling with a sigh. “I thought my brother was going to die. If I had told someone, then–then maybe we could have prevented that from happening.” He looked at her. “I could have stopped it. Lucky for me, we have the best healers in the city.”

“You’re a seer,” she breathed, heart pounding.

“My mother refers to them—me—as a True Dreamer.” He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “Only my mother and one other person knows about what I am.”

He meant Arlo Stryker.

It had to be. Artem had said on the trip here that his brother, Arlo, and Kellen were in the Selection together. It looked like Arlo Stryker was the only person in the world Kellen Blacksteel let in.

“But the hunters don’t like having a True Dreamer in their clans, one that bears mixed traits of both a witch and a hunter,” Kellen stated, his eyes hardening. “Males of the hunter bloodline are only supposed to take the warrior gene. They are afraid that we spook the brethren before a hunt. In the ancient times, we have been branded as bad luck. The old clans used to blame the deaths of clan members on True Dreamers. They believed that people like me brought what they had envisioned from their dreams into reality, like we wanted to cause harm. So when my mother worked out what I was as a child, she swore that she and I had to keep it a secret.” His gaze intensified as he looked at her.

A sickening flush crept over her skin. “Kellen, why are you telling me this?” Fear, more than anything, lined her tone. If he was sworn to secrecy about his abilities, then why was he telling her?

And then she saw it too. Fear glowed from him like it had in the sparring room that one time she had trained with him. She hadn’t been seeing things.

“You’re glowing again,” she stated as she stumbled back slightly. It was subtle, but she could see it in the darkness of her room. It was like a golden veil around him. “I can see that glow on your skin,” she exclaimed. “I am not making it up, I can see it. Like I did before.”

“I know you can. That is what happens after I dream.” His voice was coarse, and he took in a large breath. “I couldn’t tell you that before. My mother used to be able to give me a tonic that hid it from hunters or seeing eyes. But it can’t be disguised as easily from witches. They can see through the tonic’s magic.” He paused. “Well, a powerful witch can.”

If he was glowing, then that meant…

“What did you dream about?” It was a wonder that Kellen even heard her voice at all. A terrible, terrible darkness swept across his face, and he looked down at her floor. “Kellen,” his name was more like a plea on Emara’s lips, “what did you dream?”

He moved towards her, running a hand through his hair and over his face. “It was confusing.” He shook his head, and the blood seemed to drain even further from his face. “But it didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel good at all. You were taken.” He looked at the fireplace quickly and then to her again. “And it was definitely you, because I heard the roars of my brother. But I couldn’t see the person or what took you. It was like it had a dark cloak over it, unwilling to show itself. It moved in ways that I couldn’t work out. And an ancient language was being chanted and drummed in my mind, not one that I have been trained in. It felt wrong.”

Her stomach churned violently.

Emara could see the sweat from his night terrors still damp in his brow and hairline. He must have just had this nightmare for it to still be lingering on his skin. And with what he had endured in that nightmare, he had come to warn her.

“What else did you see?” she asked in the unbearable silence, her head dizzying.

He swallowed. “There was darkness and blood-curdling screams. I thought I heard steel, but the vision wasn’t clear enough to know if it was a weapon or something else. But the dream felt like you were being sacrificed, the magic dark enough to snuff out the light, and you were screaming for it to stop. And there was fire and air…and death,” he finished, cringing as he told the last detail.

A hideously cold tremor ran through Emara, causing her whole body to shake.

“How accurate are these dreams? It could just be a nightmare, right?” She let hope into her heart when she knew she shouldn’t.

He looked over at her. “That is unknown. I haven’t explored this side of me enough to know. It’s not like it’s openly allowed.” He bore a terrible sadness, and Emara found it insufferable. She just wanted to heal him. Her magic urged her to go to him, but she rooted herself to the floor. “I normally shut them down, but I couldn’t with this one.” He shifted on his feet. “All I know is that the feeling—the dream—was strong enough to shake me from my sleep. I had to tell you. I can’t unhear the cries of death.”

Cries of death.

“I am sorry,” he continued as he ran a shaky hand through his hair, “for coming here at this hour.” His complex stare burned into her face and shadows darkened his eyes. “But I had to tell you to be careful. You must always be looking over your shoulder in case whatever is coming creeps up on you. I would have felt endless guilt if I didn’t tell you and you weren’t aware of the danger you are in. I know it’s not easy for me to spring this on you in the dead of night, but I just needed to tell you. I have seen you training, and you are good. I just want you to be prepared.” His throat bobbed again. “Be ready.”

She cursed.

The problem that now lay in all of this was that she now had another secret with a Blacksteel brother. She couldn’t even hint to her guards about this danger because when questioned, Kellen’s secret would be revealed, and Gods only knew what would happen to him if anyone found out that Viktir Blacksteel’s son was a True Dreamer.

She didn’t know if she should curse again or throw up, but it felt like both were coming up her throat. “And there is no way to tell what the danger is?” she asked, beginning to tremble. “Who the danger is or when it’s coming?”

Shaking his head, he said, “Whatever it is, it feels…close.”

A rough breath left her. The shaking took over her body and Emara held on to the bed frame to keep herself upright.

“Surely, not here. The Winter Solstice Ball?” she asked. “This place is so heavily guarded.”

“I wouldn’t think so, with the palace swarming with hunters and the strength of the wards around us, but I can’t know for certain. Look what happened at the Uplift. Every faction will be invited to the festivities here. The elite have let the demons in before, but I am not sure it is them behind the danger, my father said so himself.” He took a moment to breathe, and the embers of the fire glistened behind him. “I am sick with myself that I cannot provide you with any more details, Emara.” Kellen’s eyes watered. “Truly, I am ill with the knowledge of this. I wish I could tell you more. But I felt like letting you know what I could was better than watching something unfold in front of my eyes without opening my mouth at all.”

“Thank you,” Emara said after a long moment, “for trusting me enough to tell me of this, even though it reveals a secret of yours.”