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In the hollows of my mind, I hear a voice, the one that has kept me company these past few years. The voice I crave for companionship.

Her mother has poisoned herself with too much drink. She’s taking her to a healer. Again.

She just wants rest.

She longs for a quiet room, a stack of books, a way to shut out the noise of the world.

And I want to give her that.

My eyes snap open,and I’m in the round tower room again, staring into his eyes. The sun has set, and stars twinkle in a purple sky outside.

“Was that a memory or just a dream?” I ask, catching my breath. “Did you really take the blame for the things your father did, or is that what you wish were true?”

“Were you able to separate yourself from my dreams?” he asks, avoiding the question.

I nod. “A little. But I need more practice.”

And if I spend enough time in his head, maybe I’ll finally learn the truth.

CHAPTER 29

After two days of practicing dream stalking with Talan, I sit with Nivene at a breakfast table on the Barenton Tower balcony. As Aisling serves us breakfast, Nivene and I chat about palace gossip, the picture of two empty-headed sisters catching up, nothing but idle chatter on our minds.

“Did you hear about Baroness Gerwilda?” Nivene says, steam rising from her tea to caress her face. “They caught her having anotheraffair with a manfarbelow her station. A common soldier this time. No rank at all. Shocking.”

“Notanotheraffair!” My eyes widen in mock surprise. Let Aisling think we’re as shallow as possible. “How does her husbandstandthe shame of it all?”

“I think that’s the problem. Gerwilda’s husband is drunk all the time. He doesn’t stand…nor does any part of him.”

We giggle as if this is the funniest thing we have ever heard.

Aisling pours us more tea. Rain lashes over the kingdom, but a sloped roof shields our table . The city stretches beyond the palace walls, blurred and softened by the mist, and the air feels clearer out here, freer. Safer.

While we wait for Aisling to leave us alone, my thoughts drift back to Talan’s dreams from yesterday. Again and again, hedreamed of being locked in that cell, like part of his mind was still stuck, his soul trapped beneath stone.

But there had been another dream, too—of him fucking me hard against a sycamore tree. A vision I couldn’t stop calling into my thoughts. I saw myself through his eyes, beautiful, delicate, dangerously desirable. Lips he couldn’t forget. I watch the rain slam down over the kingdom, and my mind rolls it over again: my legs wrapped around his waist, his mouth on my nipples…

Nivene snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Hello?”

I blink. “Yes. What?”

“I said, what Gerwilda wants is a man who will let her step on him.”

My jaw drops in feigned horror. “She never!”

Aisling sets out buttered oatcakes and wild strawberries for us. When she finally leaves, Nivene and I are silent for a few seconds, and then she goes to the door and peeks to see if we’re alone. Reassured, she returns to the table and her tea. “Okay,” she says. “We’re on. It’s finally happening. The assassination is moving forward.”

A lump rises in my throat. The nerves are getting to me, but isn’t this what I’ve been planning all along? And this will bring me freedom. To return to Avalon Tower. To end this life of relentless risk, where death waits around every corner.

Talan’s and Auberon’s deaths would end the war. The Fey would crumble into chaos, and Avalon Tower would buy peace with their blood.

Why feel guilty? They’re killers. They’d murder me without a second thought if they knew the truth.

“Okay.” Sharp coils of dread twist between my ribs. “When?”

She leans forward, lowering her voice. “I don’t know, exactly. Sometime this week.”

I frown. “Aren’t you the one organizing it?”