Page 13 of This Vicious Dream (Kingdom of Death #1)

Madinia

We travel through the disputed territory for three days. The evidence of death and pain is everywhere—from the destroyed, abandoned villages, to the children who stare at us as we ride by, eyes hollow, limbs thin.

We grab a few hours of sleep each night, both of us committed to closing the distance between us and Kyldare’s soldiers.

“I want to renegotiate,” I say on the third day, after we’ve passed through a village where only the dead remain, corpses picked clean by the animals. Eamonn disappeared yesterday, but Calysian doesn’t seem at all worried. Apparently, he comes and goes as he pleases.

Calysian shifts in the saddle. “And what is it you want, beautiful woman?”

Something about his tone sparks a memory. My mind twists.

Calysian leads me through the slums, his expression relaxed, even as his eyes scan the streets relentlessly.

By the time we arrive at the abandoned building, smoke is curling from my hands. Calysian sends me an amused look. “Scared?”

I ignore him, but he nods anyway. “That’s good. Only an idiot wouldn’t be scared. You’re smarter than you’ve demonstrated so far.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You shouldn’t have come here alone. I could have killed you nine times already.”

My hands fire. “Try.”

His eyes glitter. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To be able to kill something? Or for someone to finally kill you and put you out of your misery?”

My spine tingles with fury. “You don’t know me.”

“I’ve seen everything I need to know.”

It doesn’t sound like a compliment.

“You believe you’re invulnerable,” Calysian murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. “So, go on. Wander into that building alone.”

I shrug, stalking toward the dilapidated excuse for a door. My heart may be thundering in my chest, but I’ll never allow this bastard to see it.

It’s a test—only I’m not sure if he wants to see if I’m a coward or to prove I’m reckless. Either way, I’m going into that building. Hesitating will simply make this take longer or confirm to whoever is watching me from inside that I’m afraid.

Only idiots allow predators to see their terror.

Calysian lets out a choked laugh behind me. “Gods, woman. Do you have no fear?”

I glance over my shoulder. “Yes. I fear that you’ll continue to draw this interaction out even longer. Leave.”

His expression turns flat. “The debt has not been satisfied.”

“It has.”

“Weren’t you listening? I decide. One day, I will find you, Madinia Farrow. When you’re ready to be the woman I think you are.”

Cold fury slides through my veins. “If I see you again, you’ll regret it.”

He chuckles “Likely, I will. But I’ll still find you.” Turning, he strolls away.

“Madinia.” My horse pulls to a stop, and I slowly meet his gaze. He’s holding my reins, his expression tight. “What is it?”

I hiss out a breath. “You know, I can now remember almost everything about my past. And yet I’m still remembering my interactions with you. Why do you think that is?”

“Perhaps because you’re actively trying not to remember me. Why do you think you’d do something like that, hmmm?”

I know what he’s implying. That I want him, but don’t want to want him, so I’m doing everything I can to suppress any thought of him.

Overconfident bastard.

“Or perhaps my subconscious knows you’re a threat,” I mutter, and he gives me a slow smile as he runs his gaze deliberately down my body.

“A threat,” he murmurs. “Hmm.” He releases my reins, and I take the lead, ignoring his low laugh.

“You want to renegotiate?” His voice is still filled with amusement.

“Yes. It just occurred to me that I’m helping you find something you’ve spent centuries searching for.”

“And preventing the grimoire from falling into Vicana’s hands isn’t enough?”

“No.”

“Let me guess. You want me to kill her.” Calysian rides up next to me. Hope throws her head, and Fox nudges at her with his nose, the movement oddly…playful.

“Yes.” I vowed to do so myself, but even I can admit that Calysian is more likely to succeed at such a task.

He ponders me for a long time. Long enough that I focus on the forest in the distance.

“This territory…it seems to enrage you almost as much as the mention of Kyldare.”

I shrug, but Calysian continues. “I can feel your rage increasing with each village we pass through.”

“I know what it’s like to have your kingdom stolen from you. When the Hybrid Kingdom was invaded, hundreds of thousands of our people died. Those who survived were forced to flee, spending their lives in hiding, until their descendants believed they were corrupt.” My stomach roils at the memory of keeping the dark secret that would have led to my death if I was discovered. My generation….none of us knew who we were or where we were from. All of us grew up hunted, without a home.”

“You could have stayed,” he says. “After the war.” There’s no blame in his voice, simply curiosity.

I swallow around the burning lump in my throat. “I spent my entire adult life away from my kingdom. Even now, I would die to protect it.”

“But?”

“But… it doesn’t feel familiar. I have no memories tying me to the land. I have no grandmother or great grandmother there to tell me our stories. Regner stole that from me. And when I was in Regner’s castle, gossiping about courtiers for hours with the queen, I used to dream I would escape. I fantasized about exploring this world.” I take a deep, shuddering breath. “Still, if the hybrid kingdom had felt like home, I would have stayed. At least for a while.”

“And you wouldn’t have been trapped in that tower.”

I shrug that off. “Vicana is doing that to these people. She’s ripping their land from them. Their home. She’s stealing their connection to their ancestors. She’s killing the neighbors they celebrated with, mourned with, survived with.”

My eyes burn, and I stroke Hope’s neck.

“We may have won the war, but the hybrids that returned…they were forced to rely on the kindness of those who had been lucky to remain. They were forced to integrate into a kingdom they should have always known but now felt foreign.”

Calysian doesn’t speak again. But each time we come across a devastated village, his eyes linger on the destruction. On the death.

Finally, the disputed territory begins to fall away behind us, the fractured earth swallowed by the dense embrace of ancient oaks. The air changes as we move deeper into the forest, the dry scent of dust gradually replaced with the heavy scent of damp greenery. Calysian’s body is tense, and a hard, furious light glints in his eyes.

“I will do this,” he tells me, on our fifth day of traveling. We’ve stopped to allow the horses to drink, and I’m stretching out my cramped legs. Just a few hours ago, we found recent signs of Kyldare’s soliders—a fire that hadn’t been properly put out. We’re catching up to them.

“You will do what?”

“I will kill Vicana. You are right—everything you said. I know what it’s like to have something precious stolen from me. Something that leaves your life in ruins. It’s not the same, and yet in some ways it is. I can see how some people would consider their homes, their land to be as important as the grimoires I seek. It’s a part of them, just as my grimoires are a part of me.”

My heart trips in my chest. The closer we get to the grimoire, the more Calysian changes. They’re small changes—the tilt of his head when he looks at something he doesn’t understand. The way he occasionally speaks, as if the common tongue is foreign to him. The slight pause before he reacts to something I say.

Yesterday, while we were setting up camp, I asked him to pass me a water skin, and he stared at me for a long moment, as if he couldn’t understand what I was saying.

This morning before the sun rose, he was sleep talking in a strange language that sent a chill down my spine.

And then there are his eyes. Even now, they’ve darkened, until they’re almost black.

Something in my chest wrenches. Calysian’s vow to kill Vicana is exactly what I want, and the fact that he feels for these people is exactly what I was hoping for.

And yet…

“You won’t even care about this world when you get your grimoires,” I snap. “Everything I’ve heard about Calpharos has made it clear you will burn this world as you take your revenge.”

I’m not sure why I’m lashing out. He can’t help who he is.

Perhaps it’s the arrogant gleam in his eye when he declares what he will do. Perhaps it’s because I barely recognize this man as the same man who glowered at me when he realized I’d tricked him, or the man who vowed he would stop at nothing to make me his. The mortal man.

Confusion darts across Calysian’s face, and he looks suddenly lost . “In that case, why are you helping me with this task?”

“I don’t know. I suppose I hold a glimmer of hope that you will take your revenge without destroying everything in your path. And because if it does seem like you’ll turn this world to ash, I’ll do everything I can to kill you.”

We both turn quiet, saying little over the next few hours. Gnarled trunks claw upward, roots knotting together beneath the horses’ hooves.

Our conversation has one effect. He’s no longer watching the world through cold, distant eyes. And those eyes have lightened slightly.

Finally, he pins me with a look. “Will you tell me where we’re going now?”

“Blightmere.”

“Blightmere?” The word is incredulous, and Calysian stares at me, nostrils flaring.

“Yes.”

“You hid my grimoire in the swamp?”

I sniff. “Yes. And thanks to my foresight, it has stayed safe all this time. You’re welcome.”

He gapes at me, and I continue riding.

When he catches up with me, he rides too close, and Hope snaps her teeth at Fox. I stroke her neck. “Good girl.”

Calysian lets out a low growl. “If I’d known we were traveling through the swamp, I would have stopped for supplies.”

“The innkeeper from the village you defended…she has an aunt who traveled to Blightmere. She told me there’s a small village that borders the swamp along the route we need to take. It’s not ideal, but it will have to do.”

We ride in strained silence. At least, it’s strained on Calysian’s side. I won’t apologize for not giving him the information he would need to leave me and go after the grimoire himself.

Finally, the swamp begins to creep into the forest. Vines choke the life from trees, pulling down branches weakened by their attentions. The closer we get to Blightmere, the heavier and stickier the air becomes. When I visited the swamp that day so long ago, I’d returned to Daharak’s ship covered in mud and insect bites. But beneath the irritation I’d felt a strong sense of satisfaction. The knowledge that I’d done my part to protect this continent.

Now, my stomach is churning with anxiety, my palms slick with sweat.

Within a few hours, we’ve reached the outskirts of the swamp. We haven’t seen any signs of Vicana’s soldiers, which means they’re likely already traveling within the swamp.

We’ll need to move quickly.

I pull the hood of Calysian’s cloak up to cover my hair. If Vicana’s soldiers have come through, it’s likely they’ve questioned the villagers, and my hair is memorable. The road turns into a narrow track, the mud sucking at the horse’s hooves as the village comes into view, and voices sound in the distance, raised in either barter or argument.

It’s impossible to know if this place has clawed its way out of the swamp, or if the swamp itself has encroached on the village. Wooden buildings are streaked black, slick with moss, while roofs sag beneath the weight of rot and neglect. A few crooked chimneys release a trickle of smoke, curling up into the murky sky and mixing with the already heavy reek of wet earth and mildew.

A cart rolls past, its wheels fighting the thick mud. When I peer into it, I find it filled with some kind of tiny fish.

The closest building appears to be an inn, a wooden sign swinging above the doorway, its paint too faded to be legible.

We urge the horses forward, stopping near a cluster of stalls. A short, slight woman stands at the first stall, her hands moving quickly as she ties bundles of dried herbs with thin twine. She sweeps her gaze over us, looking entirely unimpressed.

“What do you want?”

“Food,” Calysian says, swinging himself down from his horse. “And supplies.”

“You’re going into the swamp.”

“Yes. We’ll also need to stable our horses.”

She spares him another glance, her eyes flicking to me before returning to her work. “You’ll find bread and salted meat a few stalls down. If you’re looking for better, you’ve come to the wrong place.”

“How did you know we’re going into the swamp?” I ask.

She raises one brow, tying off her current bundle and placing it in a pile with the others. “You’re not covered in mud, so you can’t be traveling out of the swamp. And we’ve seen a steady stream of visitors passing through for the past several days.”

My skin prickles. Just as I’d anticipated, the soldiers have made it here first.

“What kind of visitors?”

When her lips thin, Calysian places a gold coin on her stall. It’s more money than she has likely seen in her life, but she merely slips it into her pocket with a nod.

“I have a feeling you know what kind of visitors. The kinds of visitors who have removed their uniforms and traveled into our kingdom, hunting for something within our swamp.”

Calysian’s eyes meet mine.

“We heard screams last night,” the woman continues, a slight smile playing around her face. “Our swamp does not take kindly to those who seek to destroy it in order to get what they want.”

I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “You speak of it as if it’s almost…alive.”

“That swamp was ancient long before the fae were ever created,” she says. “It does not take kindly to those who would attempt to burn their way through it.”

I shiver. “Thank you for the warning.”

“I’ll give you another one. Beware the Blightmere Serpent.”

Unease ripples through me. The last time I visited this swamp, I approached from the west, traveling just deep enough to find a suitable hiding spot. This time, we’re approaching from the northeast, which means we’ll need to spend much more time traveling within the swamp itself—directly through the heart of Blightmere.

I wish we could travel around the outskirts, but we’d lose too much time. Precious time we need to catch up to Vicana’s soldiers.

Calysian gives the woman a grave nod. “Thank you for your help.”

We move toward the stalls she pointed out, loading up on food and water. By the time we’re ready to leave, the sun is high in the sky.

Calysian glowers at the stable, and Fox tosses his head as if instantly rejecting the thought. But we can’t take the horses with us. Unstable ground, sinkholes, mud, twisted roots, insects…

Fliora’s voice echoes through my head.

“You need to take the horses.”

“We are.”

“Not now. Later. When you think you shouldn’t take them, you’re wrong.”

I heave a sigh. “We have to take them.”

Calysian snorts. When I don’t dismount, he glowers at me. “You’re serious.”

“Do you remember Fliora?”

“The baby seer?” He raises one eyebrow, but I can tell he remembers every word she said.

I wait him out. After the way Fliora’s mother helped me, I’m choosing to believe her daughter.

Calysian eyes the horses. “We don’t have enough fresh water for them.”

“There’s an aquifer beneath the swamp. I learned about it last time—I needed to know I’d survive if I got lost. It releases water into springs dotted throughout the swamp.”

Calysian lets out a low growl. “This is going to be a nightmare.”

Calysian

Moments after we leave the village, the trees close in around us, stifling the sounds of the market at our back.

The wet slaps of boots on mud, the creak of carts, the haggling voices—all of them fade quickly as we take the road leading toward the swamp.

Calling it a road is an exaggeration. My instincts insisted Madinia ride at my side, but there’s barely enough room for both horses. Madinia’s mare hesitates, ears flicking back and forth as twisted branches sway in the wind, brushing against tree trunks slick with swamp moss.

Eventually, the road narrows into a trail, and I’m forced to ride ahead of Madinia.

The forest smells alive here—not in the vibrant way of fresh grass or blooming flowers. But in the way of rot—teeming with things that feed on death.

The ground grows softer, and Fox’s front hoof sinks into slick mud. He jerks backward, pulling it free with a squelch. The mud is a dark, putrid black, thick with the scent of something foul.

When the path splits, I don’t need to ask Madinia which way to turn. I can feel the insistent pull of my grimoire calling to me.

The swamp clings to us, exhausting the horses, and we’ll need to stop to rest even earlier than I’d anticipated. Within an hour, we’re forced to dismount, leading the horses through water that rises above Madinia’s thighs. She’s tense, her eyes continually scanning for threats. Clearly, she feels it too.

I feel a strange burst of unfamiliar power, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up. The swamp has encroached on the path, and we need to make it the fifty or so footspans to firmer ground. But Hope suddenly balks, tossing her head and side-stepping into Madinia, who stumbles, unbalanced. She catches herself, murmuring to the horse. But the mare is staring at something, refusing to go any further.

Horses are prey animals.

I follow her gaze to the water to our right, where ripples spread out from a shadow. A shadow that wasn’t there before.

The surface glimmers, and a dark shape glides beneath it. A smooth, serpentine shape.

A shape that radiates a strange, unfamiliar power.

“Move,” I order. “Now.”

I tug on Fox’s reins, leading him toward the higher ground, but Hope throws her head in a move that almost wrenches the reins from Madinia’s hand.

“Leave the horse,” I snarl. But she won’t. I know it before the words are even out of my mouth.

Releasing Fox, I slap him on the ass. He’s smart enough to bolt for safety as I whirl toward Madinia.

Snatching the reins from her, I resist the urge to slap her on the arse the same way I just slapped Fox. She would likely disembowel me.

“Go!”

She stumbles through the water, and I yank at the reins, forcing Hope to meet my eyes. Her eyes roll, but I reach for that power so close to me, staring her down.

She calms.

Fox whinnies, and Hope finally begins moving toward him.

“Calysian!” Madinia’s voice is filled with terror. I spin, but…

It’s terror for me .

A hint of warmth flashes through my chest, but there’s no time to bask in the smug certainty that this woman cares for my safety. Not when the dark shadow is almost on me.

I pull my sword, bracing for impact.