Page 21 of This Vicious Dream (Kingdom of Death #1)

Calysian

This time, when Madinia wakes up, I don’t allow her to squirm free. If she thinks she can push me away after such a night, she will stay trapped in my arms until she thinks again.

Yes, I’m aware that such a thought isn’t one most women would welcome. Particularly a woman as independent and strong-willed as Madinia.

And still, when I feel her wake, feel her muscles tensing, I merely nuzzle closer, surrounding her with my body.

She sighs. “I seem to have traded one cage for another.”

That she can already joke about her imprisonment is surprising. Even more surprising? Her voice isn’t cold, and her tone doesn’t cut like the lash of a whip.

Madinia wiggles, turning, and I know she can feel my length press against her. When her eyes meet mine, my breath catches.

She’s heavy-lidded, her eyes so blue, it’s as if they were formed from crushed sapphires. Her hair is tousled, her skin flushed with sleep, and when she leans forward to press a gentle kiss to my chest, I almost claw through my skin, crack open my ribs, and hand her my beating heart.

That thought is enough to make me jolt, and she gives me a questioning look.

I pull her close, careful not to crush her as I roll her to her back, capturing her mouth with mine. She lets out one of those little sounds that makes me hard as stone, and I hiss in a breath.

How is it that I can still need her this much after last night?

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Someone pounds on the door, and Madinia lets out a yelp, pushing at my chest. Reluctantly, I lift my body off hers, my mood darkening.

“I thought we were leaving early?” Haldrik’s voice booms from the hall.

“We’re coming,” Madinia calls, pulling the sheet from the bed and stumbling toward her clothes.

I sigh, hauling myself out of bed.

“Your modesty is unnecessary,” I murmur, and Madinia glowers, tightening the sheet.

Warmth rushes through me, and I can’t help but grin, stepping toward her. She backs up, tripping on the sheet, and I catch her, steadying her on her feet.

Madinia shoves her hair off her face, hand tightening on the sheet. “Don’t even think about it,” she hisses. “I’m not going to see Haldrik in a…state.”

I shake my head. For a woman who grew up at court, she can be charmingly innocent. “I enjoy this prudish side of you. But I’m going to enjoy destroying it even more.”

“One. Night.” She grits out, and I shake my head at her. Already, her eyes are dropping to my chest, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. She stiffens, whirling away, and I don’t bother to hide my grin, whistling a merry little tune as I find some clean clothes. I’m fully dressed before she has finished rummaging through her bag.

“I’ll leave you to collect yourself,” I announce, ignoring her low growl as I step into the hall.

Haldrik is nowhere to be seen, but I find him in the tavern below the inn, eyes narrowed as he watches people from his table by the window.

“The horses are being saddled,” he says. “I took the liberty of speaking to the stablehands about your horses. Although they seemed strangely frightened of the stallion.”

I nod, turning away to speak to the innkeeper. I order far too much food, but this might be our last chance at a decent meal for at least a few days.

Haldrik frowns at me. “I thought we would leave immediately.”

“Madinia needs to eat.” She didn’t eat enough at dinner last night, and the healer made it clear that she wasn’t to skip meals.

Haldrik’s frown deepens, and I study him, making no effort to hide my perusal. For three years, this man has lived his life, without even attempting to contact his so-called family.

His eyes cool. “I know what you think of me.”

“You do?” I keep my tone neutral, but a muscle jumps in his jaw.

“I abandoned my crew. I didn’t finish my contract. I left my family. There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already said to myself.”

Madinia appears, and Haldrik opens his mouth, likely planning to urge her to hurry. I lean over the table, into his space, and his mouth snaps closed.

I won’t allow his sudden eagerness to prevent her from eating her fill.

Madinia sinks into the chair, her hair freshly braided, her clothes clean. If I leaned close and pressed my nose against her skin, would I scent myself on her? The thought makes my muscles tense, and she sends me a warning look, which swiftly changes to shock as the barmaids begin placing plates on the table.

“Are we feeding a regiment?”

I pile potatoes and eggs onto her plate. “Eat.”

Madinia shakes her head at me but lifts her fork, and satisfaction slides through me.

I nod at Haldrik. “You should eat too. We’ll spend hours in the saddle today.”

He doesn’t protest, loading up his own plate.

I eat distractedly, my mind already sharpening, moving away from the woman sitting across the table and to the grimoire whispering to me.

Soon. Soon it will be in my hands.

Madinia

Traveling with another person is…strange.

Calysian and I had fallen into an easy intimacy, communicating with the barest flick of a glance, intuitively knowing when we would stop to water the horses, stretch our legs, or make camp for the night.

These things now have to be explicitly stated, and—when Haldrik has his own opinions—negotiated.

We’re heading southeast, closer to the mountain ranges that cut through the center of this continent.

My skin prickles constantly with the sensation that we’re being watched, but if Calysian and Haldrik also sense it, they don’t say a word.

Just a few hours after we leave Elunthar, we begin passing stone pillars—crumbling with age, and scattered amongst the forest as if a giant became enraged and slammed some kind of huge structure into the ground.

Eamonn is still nowhere to be seen. And despite Calysian’s refusal to talk about him—or their argument—I’ve seen the way he cranes his head, searching the sky for any sign of his friend. I’ve caught him peering into the forest, as if expecting Eamonn to prowl through the trees at any moment.

We spend the night in the forest, away from the main trade road. Calysian gives me an indulgent look as I roll out my sleeping mat on the opposite side of the fire, but thankfully, he keeps his thoughts to himself.

And still, I crave the feel of him. Without him wrapped around me, I sleep poorly, my mood turning dark.

Three days later, the forest begins to thin, trees giving way to more broken columns that rear out of the underbrush like bones. Carvings emerge, half-worn faces carved into those columns near a massive archway covered with moss.

Calysian seems to sense my curiosity, because he calls out to Haldrik. The older man nods, gesturing to the small stream running alongside the road. He disappears, likely planning to refill his water skin.

I dismount with a wince that I’m careful to hide from Calysian. My chest is still achy, and I’m still recovering my strength. But Calysian tends to hover when he thinks I’m in pain, and I need to feel like myself again.

I leave Hope tied to a tree and turn my attention to the ruins, reluctantly fascinated. Something about them feels almost familiar, in a way that makes the back of my neck itch. I peer through the forest, spotting more stone carvings amongst the trees. “What is this?”

Calysian swings himself off his horse, rolling his shoulders as he takes in the ruins.

“The southern half of this continent is dotted with the remnants of ancient temples.”

“Temples?”

He flashes me a smirk. “Temples devoted to the old gods.”

It dawns on me then. My blood turns hot.

He is one of the old gods. This man, who—just days ago—was inside me, is an ancient being. He’s no more mortal than the stream to our left, or the ground beneath our feet.

Calysian curses in that language he used once before. The one that makes my ears feel like they’re going to bleed. “I don’t like that look on your face.”

I swallow. “What look?”

“Don’t play with me.” He prowls closer, and the dappled sunlight flickers across the lines of his face. “You’ve always known what I am.”

“Knowing and understanding are two different things.”

“And what exactly do you understand?”

“You’ll still be alive when I’m dust beneath the earth.”

Realization flickers across his face, quickly followed by…grief. “Madinia.”

I force a smile. “I know who—and what—you are. I just…I suppose I let myself forget for a little while.”

His eyes search my face. “Why do I feel like I’ve lost something in this moment?”

I don’t know what to say. Turning, I mount my horse, nodding at Haldrik when he reappears. “We should get moving.”

To our left, I can see the Lacana mountains in the distance, towering above the forest. We’ll be skirting around the southern tip of the mountain range, but that’s as much as Calysian has told Haldrik and I—another point of contention between them.

Within hours, it’s clear we’re several days from crossing the foothills at the bottom of the range and moving east into Dracmire. And yet the further south we travel, the more my skin has prickled with an unwelcome awareness.

I wait until Haldrik is far enough ahead of us and then lower my voice, directing Hope close to Fox.

“Do you feel like you’re being watched?”

Calysian gives me a sharp nod. “I haven’t seen any sign of Vicana’s regiment, but her witch lived. It’s likely she sensed the second grimoire and Kyldare sent his soldiers south while you were recovering.”

There’s no blame in his words, but my stomach still twists.

“You didn’t kill the witch.”

“No.” His eyes meet mine. “When I saw you dying, I forgot she existed. I’m sure she crawled away somewhere and Kyldare found her.”

I suck in a sharp breath. This kind of stark honesty is new. It’s raw and vulnerable, and I don’t know what to do with it.

“Thank you.”

Haldrik waits for us at the next bend, his eyes darting between our faces as we approach, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips. “I never thought I’d see the day,” he marvels. “Madinia Farrow—”

“Quiet,” I snap, and Calysian raises one brow.

With a sniff, I nudge Hope into a trot, ignoring the twin male snorts behind me.

The days begin to blur together. Calysian turns strangely moody, switching from gazing at me with that intent, determined expression to ignoring me completely. The shift is subtle at first, so gradual I almost convince myself I’m imagining it. His silences grow longer. Heavier. When he does speak, his words are clipped, delivered with a cool efficiency that scrapes at the edge of my nerves.

The casual intimacy we’d fallen into disappears entirely.

A week after we found Haldrik, we camp in the shadow of a towering oak, its branches creaking in the wind. Haldrik builds the fire and I flick my hand at the branches and logs, my flames instantly engulfing the wood. He sends me an appreciative grin, but I turn my attention to Calysian.

He sits on the other side of the fire, sharpening his dagger with slow, methodical strokes. His eyes are distant, his attention on something far away.

I have a feeling I know what he’s thinking about, and I take a deep breath. “Calysian. Are you—”

His gaze snaps to mine, and the air between us seems to shift. His dark eyes gleam with something sharp and predatory, and my words wither on my tongue. Haldrik glances between us, his eyes wide, and I shake my head warningly at him.

The next day, it’s worse.

We ride side by side, but there’s an invisible wall between us. Calysian’s posture has turned straighter, stiffer, and even Fox seems to be restless, his ears twitching back as if reacting to something I can’t see.

In the distance, the foothills ripple out from the base of the mountains, the terrain dotted with sharp ridges and outcroppings. Calysian keeps his gaze on the trail, occasionally scanning the forest for threats.

“Do you want to talk?” I murmur. “Is this about Eamonn?”

“No.” His voice is empty. Flat. And he doesn’t even look at me. Frustration coils in my chest, and I rein Hope in, forcing her to slow until Calysian rides ahead of me with Haldrik. There’s something unnervingly detached about his voice. His movements.

We stop in a small town, but of course no one this far inland has seen or heard from Daharak or her people. Calysian stays with the horses while Haldrik and I ask our questions, and the moment he sees us approaching, he mounts Fox, clearly eager to leave.

By the time we stop for the night, the tension is unbearable. His presence feels wrong, like a storm cloud settling over our camp, oppressive and damp. The night turns muted, as if even the insects no longer dare to draw attention to themselves.

I have a feeling I know what is truly happening. The grimoire’s power is seductive. Enthralling.

To my left, Haldrik’s snores cut through the night. I don’t sleep. Instead, I spend hours gazing up at the stars, attempting to understand. The first grimoire didn’t do this to him. Yes, I’d seen more glimpses of the dark god, as we approached, but he’d remained in control until the moment he took it.

If the second grimoire is already affecting him like this, I can’t even imagine the damage the third grimoire would do.

I roll over, staring into the flames. For the first time since I met Calysian, I feel truly…alone. When I roll again, switching to my other side, Calysian lets out a frustrated growl.

“I don’t want to be this way, Madinia.” His voice is rough, but I can hear the thread of vulnerability beneath. “I didn’t want this to happen.”

I don’t answer. Because it is happening. And it will continue happening until the man I knew as Calysian is gone.

A hot tear slips down my cheek, and I close my eyes.