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His head shifted, rolling from the pillow onto my leg. He started to raise up. I held my breath, but he was merely repositioning himself; his head quickly settled back into my lap, and he returned to the peaceful breathing and soft unawareness of before.

My heart thundered at the more intimate position, but I managed to keep still, even as the reality of the situation—of how far off track my plans had veered—hit me like a punch to the gut.

A week ago, I would have given anything to introduce my dagger to the head currently resting in my lap.

Now, I was scarcely breathing, afraid of causing any movement or discomfort that might interrupt his rest.

After a few minutes of sitting there, studying him, I realized something odd: Despite the powerful surge of my emotions coupled with his nearness, our magic wasn’t rising at all.

I still sensed it moving inside me when I focused on it, but it was strangely calm, with none of the desperate reaching and fighting for balance that I’d come to expect. Maybe because everything about this moment already felt balanced—and again, like I’d somehow stumbled into a life I’d anticipated living before my world had broken apart all those years ago.

But…no. This was not normal. And they were not real, these feelings stirring in my chest. We were not married, as we might have been, and we were not at home in his kingdom. We were in Hell, and we had the fresh scars to prove the things we’d been through, however bright our current surroundings might have been.

I heard a familiar, distant bark, and I barely kept myself from jumping at the sound.

Carefully, I slipped out from under Aleksander, tucking pillows under his head and pulling a blanket up over him before leaving him to his rest.

Crossing to the opposite window and peering out of it once more, I spotted Phantom and Red racing through the yard. They were tumbling through the abundance of petals, Red occasionally stopping to gather them and toss them up for Phantom to catch.

Relief warmed my chest, seeing the two of them safe.

But where was I supposed to lead them from here?

I had to figure out where we were, and what came next—and I couldn’t do that while sitting in this room.

With or without courage, I had to keep moving.

With slightly trembling hands, I washed my face with the bowl of rose-scented water that had been left on the vanity in the corner of the room. I braided the front of my hair and pulled it back, securing it in its familiar half-updo that made me feel more like myself—which seemed silly, but also important in this peculiar, unpredictable place.

After finding my boots tucked away behind a changing screen, I yanked them on, along with a luxurious coat I discovered hanging nearby, and then I cautiously slipped into the expansive hall outside.

The brightness and beauty of my dreamlike room persisted into this new space. This was a proper palace—that much was made more and more evident by the minute, thanks to the tall windows and soaring ceilings; the shining, pearlescent grey floors; the countless works of art lining the walls; and the halls that seemed to go on for miles.

And it was afunctioningpalace, at that. There were actual, living people scurrying about in most of the rooms I passed.

They avoided me. Or, failing that, they let out a panicked gasp and gave a deep bow before scrambling away. More than once, I looked back to see heads peeking out from around doorways and corners, trying to catch a glimpse after I’d safely passed.

I couldn’t make sense of this, either, so I stayed focused on my goal of reaching my destination, heading in what I believed to be the general direction of the petal-strewn courtyard I’d seen.

Eventually, I heard a few more barks that allowed me to pinpoint my target.

Phantom’s ears perked up as soon as I stepped outside, and he immediately abandoned whatever game he and Red had been playing so he could dash to my side.

(You slept an awfully long time,)he informed me.

I smiled down at him, scratching between his ears. “Almost dying is exhausting, it turns out. You of all beings should know that.”

He let out a soft whimper, nuzzling his head against my leg, his tail swishing slowly through the grass.

“But I’m fine, now. Really.” It was a lie, of course, but one I told often enough that I didn’t stutter as I delivered the line.

Phantom let out another soft, knowing whimper, but I settled him with a few more intense ear and chin scratches, even dropping to my knees so I could rake my fingers more thoroughly through his cold fur. It was a level of affection he didn’t always tolerate, but he was reveling in it, now—proof of how worried he’d been, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

Red watched from a distance. I smiled at her, and she gave me a shy little wave before plopping down in a pile of fallen petals. She hummed softly to herself as she sorted those petals into lighter and darker heaps, then proceeded to demolish those heaps, laughing as she swept her hands through them.

Phantom’s ears twitched and his tail thumped as he glanced over his shoulder, watching the petals rise and fall.

“Go on,” I encouraged.