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He doesn’t reply.

The coldness of his skin under my fingers doesn’t seem right.

I push the fear trickling into my mind aside, certain Sterling would never do anything to hurt me. “Are you okay? Does your head still hurt?”

He blinks, the vacant glaze in his rich brown eyes receding as if he’s surfacing from beneath dark waters. “I…don’t know. I don’t remember getting out of bed.”

Sterling stretches, then scrubs a hand over his face and glances around the room.

His words are slurred with confusion, like a man who’s had too much to drink. But I know he only had one glass…hoursago.

“It looked like you were trying to say something. Do you need something? I can get it for you.” I start to push back the covers. “Unless you got up to relieve yourself. I can’t get that for you.”

“No.” He laughs, seeming more himself than ever. Looking around, he shrugs, and it turns into another stretch and then a yawn. “All I need is sleep. And you.”

He crawls back into bed. His movements are mechanical, even as he throws an arm over me and snuggles me close.

Soon his breathing evens out, a quiet reassurance that he’s slipped back into slumber. But now I’m wide awake.

Lying here, staring at the canopy above, I can’t shake the image of Sterling’s hollow stare, or the memory of Leesa’s distant gaze during the day.

An image of Leesa standing over Agnar that night in the Lost City flashes though my mind. She’d also behaved as if she was engaged in a conversation I couldn’t hear. But she was holding a small object in her hands then.

Maybe it’s just a coincidence.

Hells, I’ve woken up in the middle of the night and had heavy thoughts too. With everything that’s happened recently, it’s no surprise we’re all a little shaken up.

Still, the uneasiness skittering across my skin persists. Could confusion and insomnia be aftereffects of the drachen’s attack? If so, how long will the symptoms persist? Will they eventually disappear, or will Sterling spend the remainder of his life dealing with them?

I hug Sterling’s arm to my chest, embracing him with all my might while I attempt to stop my anxiety spiral. The truth is, I have no idea what the future holds. None of us do. So there’s no sense in borrowing trouble and wearing myself out by stressing over things that may never happen.

I try to comfort myself with the knowledge that somewhere in Tirene—maybe even near the palace—I have a brother, but my excitement wanes almost as quickly as it rises. I have no idea how to go about finding him, and with everything else pressing down on me, no time or energy to spare for what amounts to a frivolous undertaking in the grand scheme of things.

The Hidden Valley harbors answers, I’m sure of it. And as soon as I locate the directions Nyc mentioned were in the forgotten wing, I’ll set out to find the phoenixes there.

* * *

The morning light filters through the gossamer curtains, casting a soft glow on the high vaulted ceilings of the royal dining room. The room is much smaller than the formal dining hall, but still large enough to seat a few dozen people.

I sit amongst our closest circle at the long rectangular wooden table. Sterling, Agnar, Bastian, Blair, and Leesa ring the table with Dowager Queen Alannah sitting at Sterling’s left hand.

She’s heard about our encounter with the drachen and wanted to verify with her own eyes that her only surviving child is still hale and healthy. Instead of eating in Sterling’s room, we’re gathered around the breakfast table laden with platters of steaming food. As always with Sterling, the fare is good, but not over the top. Fluffy eggs, fresh fruit, hearty sausages, and warm bread with butter and an array of jams and compotes tempt my watering mouth.

There’s a comforting familiarity in this ritual, but my gaze keeps drifting to Sterling. The shadows under his eyes are like fading bruises from a fight. He isn’t the unsettling specter from last night, and for that, I breathe easier. Still, his appearance is enough that his mother keeps reaching out to touch his hand and check on him.

I can only imagine how she feels. As terrifying as it is to know there’s a real possibility I could die fighting the drachen, I find solace in knowing I will never experience the pain Alannah has. Outliving one’s entire family, children included, has to be a special kind of torment.

“Pass the bread, would you?” Agnar’s voice cuts through the clinking of utensils, and he heaps his plate with sausages and eggs like he’s fueling for battle.

My fingers brush against the warm crust of the loaf as I hand it over, which pulls me back to the present. “I’ve been thinking.”

Blair’s fork pauses halfway to his mouth. “That sounds dangerous.”

Rolling my eyes, I ignore the comment and Agnar’s snicker. “Anyway, does anyone know if there’s a way to wall off your mind from a drachen? If we can keep ourselves from being swallowed by fear, we might be able to destroy them, or to at least get one step closer.”

While I’d asked Rhiann—one of the few people I trust and who knows the palace like the back of her hand—to search the old wing for the mysterious directions Nyc indicated might be located there, that’s only one part of the battle plan we’d need to protect ourselves. I can’t help but hope for something—anything—we could use as a shield against that paralyzing fright invoked by the drachen.

Agnar laughs, his battle-scarred face lighting up with mirth. “If there was such a thing, people wouldn’t need to find courage at the bottom of a bottle.”