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“What happened to not making waves?” I ask.

“I suspect the whole point of Kahedin’s dream is that he’s trapped all alone with his fantasies. This is probably related to his seclusion because of the plague. No one is allowed near him in real life, and this somehow ties into his sexual desires.”

I cock my head at an Arnesta. “Well, that’s just it. What good is it to beg if there’s no one there to see it? I think Lord Kahedin wants the whole world to know how much you want him. How much you regret turning him down. He wants people to see thathehas all the power now, doesn’t he?”

“Yes,” she says slowly. “You must watch us.”

“You must see how desperate we are for him,” says the other.

They move aside, motioning us in, one of the needles practically brushing me as I walk past.

Inside, the palace is falling apart, a place of faded grandeur with peeling paint and cracked walls. A vase by the entrance contains a bouquet of dead flowers. There’s only one door ahead, and Talan pulls it open.

Kahedin sits on a throne with six naked Arenestas kneeling at his feet, arms bound behind their backs. More Arnestas are draped in large, upholstered chairs, writhing on each other and moaning for Kahedin to touch them. They’re touching each other, trying to orgasm but never quite reaching it.

I recall seeing a portrait of him in Castle Perillos once. He was a handsome Fey with long, silvery hair and a well-kept beard. Now, he looks twice the size, made of pure muscle, with golden skin. The picture of radiant health. In his dreams, the only signs of his failing health are the dilapidated walls and the cracked mosaic floor.

“You see how they want me?” Kahedin beams. “You see how the tables have turned?”

“They obviously regret turning you down very much,” I say. “You radiate such power. May I kiss your hand?”

With a dismissive gesture, he extends his arm, and I step around the naked Arnestas to kiss the back of his hand.

I’m anticipating the usual blinding pain from my powers, but to my surprise, there’s none at all. Whatever causes it in real life hasn’t followed me to the dream world, and I leap into Kahedin’s mind easily.

I feel his misery at once. He’s spent months alone, obsessively thinking of Arnesta, but neither she nor anyone else would come near him. He yearns to touch someone.

The letter, I whisper in his mind.The letter that Prince Talan sent you. Agree to it, and it will all be over. You’ll be able to see people again. You’ll be able to step outside. Arnesta will throw herself at you because you will be favored by the prince.

He’s desperate and willing to try anything. I feel him instantly capitulate. He’ll agree to Talan’s letter. Talan was right. My mind control is even more powerful in the dream world. Any notion I plant here becomes an integral part of Kahedin’s fantasies, planted deep in the roots of his unconscious. He won’t know where he got the idea, but he won’t be able to ignore the growing desire.

Already finished with my work, I pull away, breathing rapidly and smiling at Talan.

He arches an eyebrow. “That was alarmingly fast.”

I shrug. “It’s done. Let’s get out of here.”

“Okay. We should be able to leave the way we came?—”

The palace door flings open, and a troop of naked Arnestas march in, gripping pikes. Snakes writhe from their heads instead of red hair, and their fangs are sharply pointed. Blood drips from their mouths.

“What have you done to my master?” one yells.

“Fuck,” Talan says, clamping his hand around my wrist. “Things are about to get very interesting, little one. Stay close to me. I know how easily your kind breaks.”

My breath quicks. “Why? What’s going on?”

“The dream has become unstable. It’s turning into a nightmare, and I don’t know how much I can control it.”

The nightmarish Arnestas stalk into the palace hall, their faces twisted into horrific grimaces, their fangs flashing. Behind them, shadows slide through the air, amassing before the door. They’re blocking our way out. Behind us, Kahedin starts to shriek, all of his bravado dissolving like sugar in the rain.

Talan exhales slowly with the air of someone who feels inconvenienced.

“Can’t you get us out of here?” I ask quietly.

Talan shakes his head. “In Kahedin’s nightmare, this place is a prison. I can bend and twist the dream logic a little but can’t break it.” His copper-ringed eyes flick to mine. “Especially not while you’re with me.”

The snake-haired Arnestas lunge for us, and Talan steps in front of me. One of them lashes at Talan with her razor-sharp nails. A sword materializes in his hand, and he dodges her attack with fluid, effortless grace. He swings for her, expertly slicing through her throat. But already, another is charging to take her place.