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CHAPTER

TWENTY-FIVE

Oralia

“Was this your plan all along?”

Hands wrapped around my throat, squeezing. A sharp pain sliced through my belly. I clutched the axe now protruding from my womb.

“You are nothing to me.”

Blood filled my mouth. I choked on my scream.

“Nothing at all.”

Hands closed over my shoulders. A voice called my name, murky through the blood now pouring from my ears. And then I jolted awake, tumbling into arms winding around my shoulders, pressing my face into waving auburn hair.

“Merely a dream, sweetling,” Samarah crooned. “Breathe for me.”

The scream I’d been choking on echoed through the room. My fingers clutched the bones circling her waist. She shushed me, razor-sharp nails scraping over my scalp, rocking me as a mother might. I pushed and scrambled away from her.

“I did not betray him,” I muttered, panic smearing the words together.

“No, you did not,” the God of Nightmares answered, brushing the wetness from my cheeks, ignoring my recoil. “What you saw was not him, only your fear—the thing your subconscious dreads above all else.”

Shaking my head, I ran a hand over my face and through my tangled hair before tugging down the hem of Ren’s tunic. Samarah’s violet eyes shone in the dark, delicate brows drawing together before she placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Do not,” I breathed, shaking off her touch.

But she only clucked her tongue and tugged me again into her arms with overwhelming strength, shushing me when I struggled.

“The broken pieces of you fear what you have lost, but that does not mean you do not need them.” She rocked slowly, passing a hand up and down my back. “What I showed you was not real, sweetling. It is a reflection of you , not him.”

I knew she was right. Drystan had been subjected to a similar vision, but it had been me, not Ren. He’d been weeping over the image of my body strung up with chains, the blood pouring from my throat and wrists. And in his vision, I’d jolted to consciousness only to choke on my own blood and die before his eyes.

Aelestor’s vision had been one of Josette drinking from the Athal. He’d spoken of it in halting tones, refusing to say more before he’d raced off to Rathyra to no doubt assuage his fears. I was jealous of them for that comfort. Drystan could pull me into his arms as a father might and comfort himself it was all a dream. Aelestor could do the same with Josette.

But I could not. Ren was lost to me and the only thing left behind was the memory of his face, the accusations like a bruise upon my mind. The bond I had come to rely on was silent, no reassurance of his love or contentment—merely a rhythm of his magic like a heartbeat.

Slowly, I forced myself to relax into her hold, tears drying into tracks across my cheeks. “Do you regret it?”

“Using my power on you?” Samarah’s voice was soft beside my ear, the strange earthy scent of her coating my tongue.

I nodded into her throat, tracing the slope of a bleached white rib where it lined her chest. She sighed, gathering my hair from my shoulders, nails scratching across my neck, forcing a shiver down my spine.

“No, I do not. I do not regret using my power to protect myself, even if the cost is high. Even if I cannot weigh the damage.”

Her voice was different here in this room, lacking its strange, lilting quality of riddles and hysteria. I wondered if this was who she truly was or if it was merely a means with which to subdue. Samarah had staked some sort of a claim on me. Even on the steps of the castle, when I’d been sure I’d seen Ren standing feet away from us with silvery liquid dripping from his hands, she had not allowed anyone to get close to me when I snapped and began wailing. Embarrassment twisted through my stomach at the memory—how weak I’d appeared. What a wonder that these gods viewed me as their queen when I was merely a shivering, quaking fawn succumbing to fear.

It was only I could not quantify what it was I’d seen before me. Ren had been dressed in a black tunic and trousers, the same as I’d seen him in my dreams. The expression on his face was one of concern, love bleeding from his eyes like the silvery substance from his hand. Samarah had seen him too, I was certain. She’d whispered something to me, but I’d been unable to hear her over the pounding of my heart. And all I could think was that I could not bear to see the moment when his face hardened, the moment the accusations would begin again.

Samarah had been the one to guide me to my rooms with a hand on my waist, all but growling at Sidero when they attempted to follow. It was Drystan she had allowed in to check on me, some sort of brittle trust threaded between them.

“Lie back,” Samarah murmured, pushing on my shoulders until I followed her instruction.

I fought her, negation slipping from my lips even as she caught my wrists, shushing me while she pressed my head onto Ren’s pillow. The quiet, liquid language of the timeless gods slithered through the dark. Only a few words stood out to me, and they confused me further. Harm. Good. Guide. Breathe.

With gentle movements, she drew the covers up my chest before closing my lids with the slight pressure of her fingers. But it did not remind me of the motions of a mother—this was more like the actions of a human undertaker—of one preparing a body for burial. The scent of earth swirled closer, hair tickling my cheek.

“Take a breath, sweetling.”

“What are you doing?” My mouth tensed, and I held my breath.

But fingers smoothed the space between my brows, sliding across my lips. My mind swam, a strange heaviness falling across my limbs. I was breathing deeply, gulping in her scent tinged with a pungent sweetness like rot. Shaking my head, I slapped against her chest, but Samarah only gripped my wrists, pressing them against the mattress.

“I am keeping my promise, latska lathira. Because it is to them I am loyal above all else.”

I was too far gone to understand her words. I wandered through a thick wood at twilight. Stars twinkled overhead. The simple gown I wore was soft against my skin, dark in the night. A hand wrapped around mine, squeezing tightly, before violet eyes flicked toward me and away as Samarah guided me over a shallow brook.

My heart hammered in my ears with each step. I swallowed, unsticking my dry tongue from the roof of my mouth. This was not a dream, or it did not feel like one. Her hand was too solid against my own, the air too crisp on my skin, the ground too soft beneath my bare feet. I was too awake .

“You are awake,” Samarah answered, voice clear as a bell. “Sleeping with your eyes wide open.”

That sounded quite a bit like I was asleep. I ducked beneath a low branch, steadying myself with a hand on the trunk of another as we descended a winding path. “Where am I?”

“You are here and you are there. You are in the space between, one foot in dreams and the other in waking. Your body remains in your bed, but your mind is gone.” She pushed another wide bough out of our way, the woods thinning to sparse trees.

“The in-between,” I murmured.

Samarah gave a small noise of confirmation, patting the back of my hand. But she did not speak again as we rounded a bend, a large clearing sprawling ahead at the base of the mountain. I first caught sight of a pair of wide, silver wings, shimmering in the faint moonlight. Asteria’s long black hair rippled down her back, wings flaring with each step she took, following the progress of the man pacing.

I had barely stepped into the clearing when Ren raced forward, but I skittered back, a soft cry slipping through my lips. My stomach turned to stone and acid roared up my throat. Soon, the sun would shine, the arrow would fly, and his hands would wrap around my neck.

“Please, please ,” I cried, hands held in front of me as if I could stop the nightmare before it began. “I promise, I did not betray you. I would never betray you.”

Gently, Ren’s hands wrapped around my wrists. I cringed away, but he only pressed a kiss to my upturned palm, tugging me into the circle of his embrace.

“You would never betray me, eshara ,” he murmured, velvet tone a balm against the stinging wounds.

“You went too far, Samarah,” Asteria chided over Ren’s shoulder, but I could barely register the words or the admonishing look she was giving the God of Nightmares before they kissed lightly on the mouth.

I stiffened in Ren’s arms, bracing myself for the dream to change, for these clothes to melt into his ceremonial garb. For the dark to seep into the corners of my eyes, and the world to bleed out its oxygen. Hands slid up and down my back before winding around my nape. Stars burst behind my lids as I squeezed my eyes shut, childishly believing if I could not see him, then the torture would not start.

“Whatever you saw, it was not real,” Ren breathed.

But unlike the words Samarah had spoken, these trickled through my consciousness, sliding into the cracks broken within my soul.

His lips brushed against my lids, fingers slid over my jaw. “You are mine, Oralia. Until the end of time—after, even. Nothing could tear us apart.”

When his lips covered mine, I did not fight the kiss. Ren breathed new life into my chest, and I moaned, wrapping my arms around his neck. His tongue swept into my mouth, demanding in its fervor. There, within his kiss, was the taste of truth, old magic sliding between our lips, wrapping around our hearts.

The murmurs of Asteria and Samarah melted away as they left the clearing. The flapping of wings as they gave us privacy was a faint song in my ears, drowned out by the beating of my heart. No… our hearts . Beating as one within my chest, the silver thread I had not been able to follow humming between us.

Leading me here—to him.