Page 57 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams (Fated to the Sun and Stars #3)

BLURB

To stop a zealot from destroying Trova she’ll have to risk losing everything—including her soul…

Ana Angevire was never meant to survive. Tortured and driven into exile, she has fought too hard to watch Trova fall into the hands of Marek Caledon.

But time is running out. If Caledon gets his hands on the last artifacts of Ethira, he will become a god—and no one will be able to stand against his vengeful wrath .

To stop Caledon and save the fae prince she loves, Ana makes an impossible choice. She sacrifices a piece of her soul to Leonidas Claerwyn after his own is severed from his body. Now their fates are bound together.

But Leon’s magic is unraveling, his mind fractured by nightmares he cannot escape. And Ana begins to fears that her own magic is growing too strong for her to control.

With a kingdom on the brink of ruin and her own humanity hanging in the balance, Ana must learn to trust herself and the love that binds her to Leon in order to face the ultimate test…

Can she defeat a monster without becoming one herself?

Chapter 1

Damia

The carriage ahead of me judders as one of the spokes splinters, sending a wheel tilting off to the side.

“Hold!” I shout, digging my heels into my horse to try to reach the driver before the whole vehicle turns over.

The first drips of rain hit the crown of my head as I come level with the carriage door, the wheels grinding to a halt.

Steam rises off the horses’ flanks, their breath clouds in the air.

We swapped out the first set of exhausted animals after we crossed the border into Filusia and traded the rickety wagon for a proper carriage.

Still, the carriage hasn’t proven sturdy enough to survive our breakneck pace towards the capital.

But we’re so close now .

I glance up the road, the back gates of Lavail palace visible through the increasing haze of gray rainfall. At least the weather is driving people indoors, keeping prying eyes away.

“We’ll have to carry him!” I bark, banging on the carriage in a command for it to open up.

I’ve not come this far for us to waste precious time now.

Hyllus and Stratton are at my side in moments, dismounting and exchanging quick words with the passengers as they reach inside to shoulder a limp figure between them.

That body cradled in their arms is my captain, Leonidas Claerwyn. And he’s dying.

It doesn’t look like it from the outside.

There’s still some color in his cheeks, his chest still rises and falls with an even rhythm.

Yet it’s easy to see that something is wrong.

The body that should host his indomitable spirit is just…

empty. The foul hands of the Temple have ripped his soul away, and what’s left is a shell that won’t last for long without a person to inhabit it.

A summer shower is rare in Lavail, but it turns brutal as we race across the last few yards to the gates. The rest of our party follows behind, their clothes growing heavy, weighed down by the lashing rain.

I don’t allow myself to feel much relief when the tall metal gates creak open.

Hyllus and Stratton don’t even break their stride, passing right by the welcoming party.

The Crown Prince Fairon nods to them as they go.

Morgana’s friend, Tira, is by the prince’s side, and her eyes widen as she sees the strange blankness on the Captain’s face.

There’s a small crowd of healers with them, and many of them peel off, following the pair across the gardens.

“I’m so glad you all made it,” Fairon says to me as I dismount beside him.

Did we all make it?

That’s the question none of us are willing to ask.

We have names for the place a soul goes when a body shuts down – the Gloamlands, the Eternal Realm – but if the Captain’s heart is still beating while his soul is gone, no one can seem to say for certain where Leonidas Claerwyn exists at this moment .

I turn to look at our party. Morgana is standing by the gates soaked, her eyes fixed on the spot where the captain lies between Hyllus and Stratton.

But it seems as if she’s looking at something far away, something none of us can see.

She’s barely spoken since we left Qimorna, and I wonder, too, if she is really here with us.

Tira pushes her way past Fairon to reach for her friend. I’ve always thought of her as absurdly small, but she looks strong and determined as she reaches out her hand.

“Ana,” she says. “Come with us.”

The princess turns, a flicker of recognition in her eyes. She lets Tira lead her through the gates, joining the procession hurrying to the sanctuary.

I glance at the walls of the palace in the distance.

We’ve been here before, slipping through the city streets like ghosts, sneaking into the royal gardens to reach the sanctuary as discreetly as possible.

Fairon insisted we come the back way, but whether he’s more afraid of Filusia’s citizens learning about the Captain’s fate or his own grandfather, I can’t tell.

When I saw the Captain fall in Qimorna, saw Morgana crouching over his body, I thought the worst. I felt the approach of that heavy, ugly darkness that descended on me when Eryx never came back from Bastion. But this time, it was stopped in its tracks by two words.

He’s alive.

I’d heard Morgana’s call across the aftermath of the battle and known it was not too late.

Of course it wasn’t. The Captain wouldn’t slip so quietly and easily from this world, away from Morgana’s side—no, he’d have to be dragged from it, shattering earth as he went.

He may be elsewhere right now, but I refuse to mourn a man who still breathes.

And if he stops breathing?

I’m not a fool. The half-dryad, Mal, and the young cleric, Lafia, have some idea what the Temple’s done to him, but no one seems optimistic that it can be fixed.

Even a whole of host of healers might not be able to undo it.

If we can’t get his soul back into his body, it’s clear it’ll wither and die.

What’s worse—yes, worse even than losing the Captain—is that he’ll take whatever fighting spirit Morgana has with him .

There’ll be no battle for Trova after this. No solari queen to finally cut away the rot of the Temple, the disease that’s slowly poisoning the whole continent. She’ll fade just as he has. I can see it all over her face.

And it’ll all have been for nothing.

I wonder if they know how much hangs in the balance as they carry him into the sanctuary.

One of the healers who attended Fairon, Yanda, takes charge, escorting him through the spacious entrance hall.

Everything about this place is designed to soothe – the cream-colored stone, the cool air, scented with the fresh mint smell from the burning incense bowls lining the walls.

But none of it is working for me right now.

Ana goes with the Yanda and the others, trailing after the Captain’s body like she’s in a trance.

I shake my head, unable to curb the spike of anger at the sight.

I’ve tried to be happy for the Captain and Morgana as I watched them becoming more and more entwined, but all the while I’ve been afraid of something like this.

We have a mission bigger than all of us, but I seem to be the only one who can see that.

Morgana would rather follow her lover into the grave than fight for the world they tried to build together. I find it hard to stomach.

“She’s a wreck,” I murmur, watching Morgana disappear into one of the sanctuary chambers.

“Don’t blame her, Damia,” Phaia says, coming up to stand beside me. She’d been at the Vastamae with Helia when we crossed the border, and rode through two nights to meet us on the way to Lavail. Her voice is soft as ever, but it doesn’t have its usual calming effect.

“I thought she was stronger than this,” I say, my frustration adding a bite to my words. I would never let love—or the loss of it—stop me from stamping out evil.

“This isn’t just an emotional blow for her,” Phaia replies. “They’re moored – with part of the Captain gone…wherever he’s gone…it’s like her world has been torn in two.”

I scoff, and Phaia frowns .

“I think I should know, given I’m the only other person around here who’s completed the ritual,” she says, with a hint of resentment in her tone.

“When you’re moored your other half is like an anchor, holding you in place.

” She has an annoyingly tender look in her eye, obviously thinking of Helia as she talks.

“With the Captain gone, Morgana’s soul is missing its anchor. Her whole sense of self is untethered.”

I force my retort down and nod, accepting her correction. At the same time, I miss Eryx. He’d always complain with me when I needed to vent. Now I’m just stuck listening to Phaia’s calm logic and pretending I have any understanding of what love like that would be like.

Deciding I need some air, I turn to exit the sanctuary, passing by Lafia and Mal deep in conversation with one of the dryad healers. My are hands are itching for something to do, something to fight , as I step out under the porch over the sanctuary, held up by rows of twisting white columns.

Wadestaff is there, leaning against one of the columns and staring out across the grounds.

Sss…It’sss too cold…sss…

A disgruntled hissing comes from beneath my collar. Even under the cover of the porch, Barb isn’t enjoying the rain, and I feel her burrow a little deeper against my neck.

Wadestaff looks at me and smiles. “She doesn’t like this weather, does she?”

I squint at him, wondering—not for the first time—how he reads my pet serpent well. It’s not as if he can communicate with snakes like me.

“How do you know that?”

“She usually comes out to say hello to me.” He shrugs, and I catch the wince that quickly follows. Mal managed to patch his wound up on the way here, but it wasn’t a very comprehensive job.

“Get inside,” I order. “What kind of idiot gets stabbed and doesn’t see a proper healer the first chance he gets?”

He conjures a smirk. It shouldn’t look as good as it does when he’s so clearly in pain, but that’s just one of Wadestaff’s many tricks.

“I hardly think I’m a priority when there’s a prince to save. ”

I glower at him, hoping I can scare some sense into him with just a look. It usually works on the average man.

“There’s half a dozen dryads in there,” I say. “I’m sure they can spare one healer long enough to make sure your insides aren’t on the verge of falling out.”

“Why, Lady Rhymis, it almost sounds like you care.” He puts a hand to his heart but otherwise doesn’t move. He knows I hate being called that. He’s baiting me, and I can guess at why. But I won’t give him what he wants.

“Fine, have it your way,” I say, turning on my heel to head back inside. “If you die out here in the rain, I’ll send someone to clear your corpse away before it starts to smell.”

I hear him laughing to himself as I walk away. Stupid, infuriating human.

Nonetheless, I still stop the first healer I see inside the sanctuary.

“There’s a man out there who suffered a severe abdominal injury three days ago. Go make sure he’s alright, and don’t let him brush you off,” I order.

The dryad ducks his head and has started to make for the entrance when Corrin walks stiffly into the sanctuary on his own accord.

“Changed your mind?” I ask dryly.

His smirk is gone. “I just wanted to say the prince will be alright, you know.” He meets my gaze so directly that I have the urge to look away. “I’m sure they’ll find a way to help him.”

A wave of emotion crashes against me, and I fight to keep my face blank.

“Perhaps,” I say. My voice is even, but he looks at me in that maddening way, the one that says he sees straight through me.

“I know you have to be strong, but I’m here if you need me.”

“Why would I—” I stop, biting down the sharp reply that comes automatically. He’s right. I do have to be strong, and I appreciate him understanding that.

“Let this healer look you over,” I say, gesturing to the dryad still hovering by the door. “That’s what will be most helpful right now.” Then I walk away.

Where are we going? Barb vibrates gently against my skin. My magic means she doesn’t always have to make a sound to make herself heard.

To see the Captain, I reply, letting my magic translate my words back to her.

You should stay with the dark-haired human, she says. He needs you more.

I think about what Corrin said – his offer of support when all I supply in return is coldness and anger. For some reason, that doesn’t seem to put him off. For some reason, that scares me.

Oh shush , I hiss back. You just like the way he smells .

Barb doesn’t argue, but she lowers her head again to sulk beneath my collar.