Page 5 of This Vicious Dream (Kingdom of Death #1)

Madinia

Time turns slow and sluggish.

The weather becomes slightly warmer as we travel east toward Langshire—the coastal city that was our destination before Kyldare took me. Memories of Daharak and the others have slipped into my mind as we rode, although I still can’t recall much before the days leading up to Kyldare’s appearance.

Still, it’s something. As soon as we get to Langshire, I’ll quietly begin asking the locals if anyone remembers Daharak’s ship docking.

Three years ago.

Hopelessness swamps me, but I refuse to give into it.

I refuse to believe they’re dead.

Calysian has begun brooding. When he’s not sulking in his saddle, he’s sending suspicious looks my way. Today while we picked up supplies at a small village, he shadowed me relentlessly, ensuring I was never more than two footspans from his hulking body.

His suspicion means it’s time to strike.

I pretend not to notice his dark mood as we set up camp. When he disappears toward the river to bathe, I take the soldier’s jacket and place it behind the tree next to Calysian’s sleeping mat. And then I hurry back toward the road where I spotted the moonshade weed.

It’s my turn to cook. The activity doesn’t come naturally to me, but by the time Calysian returns, I’ve poured the stew into the small wooden bowls we bought when we stopped for supplies.

Calysian is silent as we eat. It’s not until we’re finished that he leans against the tree.

“We’re traveling in the wrong direction. Aren’t we?”

My eyes fly to his. They’re heavy lidded and just a little blurred.

Kyldare’s witch inadvertently taught me everything I needed to know about poisons.

I shuffle over to him. He watches me distrustfully, but when I throw one leg over his thighs, his eyes turn hot and wild. His hands clamp down on my ass, drawing me closer.

Men. They’re so easy.

“Uh-uh,” I smile. “I’m in charge here.”

Humor flickers through his eyes. Humor and arrogance—as if he truly believes he’s the one controlling this situation. Irritation roars through me at the thought, and his lips curl in a smirk.

He knows what I’m thinking. It’s even more irritating, knowing he has somehow got me figured out already.

At least he thinks he does.

I smirk back, and we have one perfect moment of understanding. Neither of us will let the other win. It’s not how we were made.

“Why are you leading me in the wrong direction?” He asks, pulling me even closer, until he’s pressed against me, hard and thick. I barely suppress the urge to grind down.

It has been a long, long time since…

“Wrong direction? You told me to follow my instincts. And my instincts say I can’t trust you.”

“You can’t trust me? You lied to me . That means you’re the one who can’t be trusted.” He gives me a dark, sullen look and I almost laugh at the audacity.

“You said you would keep me safe.”

“I am ,” he growls, tightening his hands on my ass. His blinks are becoming longer, and I suppress another smile.

“No. You’re traveling with me because you want what I’m protecting.”

“You’ve remembered?” his expression turns blank.

I think about lying, but Calysian’s voice turns cold, even as he begins to slur his words. “You haven’t, have you? You know what I think? I think you don’t want to remember. You’re blocking it yourself, because remembering will be painful. You’ll find yourself wondering how you ended up here alone, and where your so-called friends are.”

Pain stabs into me, and I drown it in rage. Leaning forward, I lower my head until my lips brush the shell of his ear. With a shudder, he pulls me even closer, until my breasts are pressed against his chest.

Reaching behind me, I clamp my hands onto his wrists, pulling his arms above his head. His eyes turn feral, but he allows it. Or perhaps his head is swimming. Those blinks are becoming slower and slower.

“What did you do to me?” he slurs.

“Nothing you wouldn’t have done to me the second I brought you close to your goal.”

CLICK.

Calysian’s eyes fly open, but it’s too late. I’m already snapping the other cuff around his wrist.

“You fucking—”

“Shhh,” I press my finger to his lips and climb off him, raking him with an amused look I know will chafe. “We’ve had such a nice time together. Don’t ruin it by saying something you’ll regret.”

He gives me a killing look, but I’m already turning to walk away.

“Don’t…” he mumbles. “Protect…you.”

I glance over my shoulder. His eyes are slitted as he fights against the moonshade weed I slipped in his stew.

“You think I need you to protect me? Someone who has been lying to me the entire time? Someone who has been using me for their own purposes?” My voice cracks. From rage , not hurt.

At least that’s what I tell myself.

Leaning down, I pick up his heavy woolen cloak, wrapping it around myself.

“I may not remember much, but I remember this: I’m Madinia Farrow. I don’t need a hulking brute to keep me safe. And I don’t need a liar trying to fool me at every turn.” Harnessing my temper, I blow him a kiss. “Thanks for the cloak.”

Calysian

“Well, well, well. This is embarrassing.”

I open my eyes. My head swims and I lean to the side, retching.

Eamonn jumps onto my thighs, his tail wagging as he ponders the cuffs clamped onto my wrist, the chain between them.

“How did this happen?”

My mind provides me with an image of Madinia.

Her lips were red and pouty and she smelled like hot, wild woman, and she was leaning so close…

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Eamonn nudges me with his nose, his ears flopping. I sigh. “Just help me get out of the chains.”

“And how exactly did she get hold of these?”

“She’s been carrying them since we left the tower. I didn’t take them from her because I thought she was planning to use them on Kyldare .” I grind out.

“Nasty things.”

That’s an understatement. Fae iron may weaken the fae, but it drains hybrids and humans too. And the moment the cuffs closed around my wrists, I couldn’t feel even a drop of my own power. Combined with whatever Madinia used to drug me, I’m lucky there were no bandits traveling this road last night, or my throat would likely have been slit.

“Break them,” I order.

Eamonn lets out a bark. “It’s a little difficult in this form.”

I drop my head against the trunk of the tree. I don’t know much about Eamonn, except that centuries ago, he was cursed to never be able to use his human form. When I ask about it, he grows quiet or disappears for days.

Just as he disappeared recently.

“Where have you been?”

“I can’t have adventures of my own?”

“Not when I end up like this.”

“How could I have expected this outcome? You certainly didn’t.”

I snarl, and he leaps off my thighs. “Do you have anything to pick the locks?”

“In my rucksack.”

A blink, and Eamonn is suddenly a small monkey. He scampers over to my rucksack, finds the small kit and leaps up my body to get to work on the chains.

It feels as if an icepick is relentlessly slamming into my head. When Eamonn finally frees me, my power returns in a dizzying rush.

“Thank you.”

The monkey lets out a shriek—likely in an attempt to hide Eamonn’s chuckle. “Anytime.”

I pack the chains into my own rucksack. If Madinia wants to play the game this way, I’m more than happy to oblige.

My mind throws me back to the feel of her settled on top of my thighs, her plush red lips curved in a smile as she leaned close.

Luring me in.

A trick I’ll make sure she regrets.

Madinia

My head swims with fatigue, but I force myself to keep moving north, drawn toward the dark pull. At first, I thought about disappearing, ensuring no one can use me to find it. But the pull is overwhelming, and if I reach it first, I can hide it.

The cloak I stole from Calysian keeps the worst of the chill at bay, but it’s still cold, and, my poor mare’s steps are getting slower and slower as she plods along.

More of my memories have come to me as I’ve ridden through the night—mostly of my time traveling with the pirates, along with my decision to board Daharak’s ship in the first place.

“What is it you want when all this is done?” she asks.

I shrug. The pirate queen can’t be trusted. Still, she interests me. Her life interests me. She could go anywhere. See anything. I stare out at the water, wondering what that must be like. “Why would you care?”

“I see a lot of myself in you.”

I turn, giving her a look of disdain. She laughs.

“I want to be left alone,” I say. “When this is done, I want to go somewhere no one knows my name. I want to start a new life. Alone.”

“You don’t really want that.” She shakes her head. “But by the time you learn that, you’ll be half an ocean away.” She taps her temple. “I like to believe I have a hint of my mother’s sight.”

I grind my teeth at her patronizing tone, and her eyes light with humor. “I believe I’ll help you with your plans anyway. If we bring down this barrier, find me after the war, and I’ll take you with me.”

My entire body tenses. I can practically taste freedom. “Why would you do that?”

“For the same reason I do everything, of course. My own amusement.”

Bitterness wars with dark irony and I let out a humorless laugh. I got what I wanted. I’m entirely alone. The only people who know my name either want to capture me or wish to use me for their own purposes.

I wish I could turn back time. Could go back and shake the woman who so badly wanted to leave everything behind.

Along with the memories of my life, I remember more about this kingdom too. Hours of poring over maps on that ship have given me a basic understanding of my route, and my first stop will be the city of Kolegrift—the closest city on my path north. There, I can stable my mare, eat, and rest.

Hopefully, Calysian is still chained to that tree.

I chew on my lip, a hint of guilt stabbing through me. I probably should have chosen a tree further from the road. Leaving him unconscious and chained, his weapons and clothes displaying signs of subtle wealth…

I practically left a sign next to him stating Unconscious victim. Bandits and thieves, do your worst.

I let out a sigh, directing my horse toward the river so she can drink. I left the horse feed with Calysian, which means I’ll need to buy more.

“I think you don’t want to remember. You’re blocking it yourself, because remembering will be painful. You’ll find yourself wondering how you ended up here alone, and where those so-called friends are.”

Is that what I’m doing?

I can’t afford to let fear drive my decisions. Without my memories, I’m weak, uncertain. If I don’t remember, I’m dead.

I did this to myself. As a protective measure. To prevent Kyldare from getting his hands on…something.

And if I did it to myself, surely I can undo it.

Dismounting, I let my horse drink deeply, then tie her lead rope to a tree branch, leaving her grazing. I feel stupid, but I sit on an overturned log and close my eyes. I have to try.

Remember.

Curly blonde hair. Calysian said her name was Prisca.

My head immediately aches, but I push through it. I’m not afraid. I refuse to be afraid of my own memories.

A branch cracks and I launch myself from the log, stumbling backwards.

“Well, what do we have here?” A tall, thin man leers at me, another moving up beside him. “You look remarkably similar to a woman with a bounty on her head, doesn’t she Ostir?”

The other man grins, revealing gaps where teeth should be. “She sure does. All that red hair. Come with us and we won’t hurt you,” he calls to me.

I rake them with a disparaging look. As expected, both men stiffen, striding toward me.

And straight into my flames.

I drop to my knees as memories slam into me. This isn’t the first time I’ve burned men alive.

Solider after soldier have succumbed to my flames. I lived through all of it, the reek of burned flesh crawling up my nose and into my mouth.

The soldiers disappear, and I’m suddenly sitting in a plush room, staring at a boy with sad eyes.

“The dark god knew his siblings were going to strip him of his incredible power. His memories. They were tired of the favoritism his father showed him, and they didn’t approve of his plans for this world. Before they could attack him, he learned of their plan. He poured much of his knowledge, power, and self into three grimoires, casting them out into this world. He knew they would be used, and when they were, that knowledge would call to him.”

I tense. If Regner ever found the other two grimoires, we were doomed. I couldn’t let him become that powerful. He didn’t get to win.After everything he’d taken from all of us… The life I could’ve had…

More memories.

The swing of a sword, my father’s head rolling free. War. So much death.

Leaning over, I vomit, then give into dry sobs, my entire body trembling.

When I return to myself, I’m covered in a cold sweat. I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but the bodies on the ground are no longer smoking.

I grew up without a mother and I watched as my father was beheaded by a tyrant king’s soldier. I lived at court as one of Regner’s queen’s ladies, forced to fawn over that queen daily.

There are still holes. But I know I met Prisca and Asinia. I escaped certain death. I fought in a war.

Most importantly, I know what I’m protecting.

A grimoire. One of three. A grimoire filled with incredible, unspeakable power.

Calysian wants it. Kyldare wants it. The Sylvarin Queen wants it.

That one book held enough power for a king to enslave a continent and hold a magical barrier around that continent for hundreds of years.

Prisca gave me the grimoire after I…used it. I used it to undo Regner’s magic and return the power he had stolen to the humans in Eprotha.

Is that why I can sense it? Is that why I could borrow some of its power in the tower, striking out with my thorns?

I stare down at my shaking hands. Was I using the grimoire…or was the grimoire using me? No matter how much I strain, I can no longer access that power.

Considering who it belongs to, that’s probably a good thing.

As much as I want to kill Vicana, I can’t give in to the urge to find the grimoire. I have to get off this continent, which means I need to get to a ship before I’m captured again. Before those who hunt for the grimoire use my strange connection to it to take its dark power.

Calysian’s words echo in my head and I force my mind to return to the moment I saw him at the tower. Surprise had flashed across his face. He hadn’t expected to see me. Hadn’t known I was the one there.

Someone must have told him the woman in the tower could lead him to the grimoire.

My mind races. Stumbling to my feet, I roll my shoulders, making my way past the bodies, to where the men left two horses tied near the road. The men were likely following me for some time. I don’t regret their deaths.

I search their saddlebags, finding a coin pouch, a map, and some horse feed.

Unrolling the map, I crouch near the horses as I use a couple of rocks to pin the map in place. I crossed the Wyrdale River with Calysian less than a day ago, so the city of Kolegrift should be just a few hours from here.

A warm bed, a hot meal, a stall for the mare.

I reach up to stroke her nose. “I’m going to call you Hope. I know, it’s whimsical—and I’m not exactly the whimsical type—but for the first time in a long time, I feel a tiny spark of optimism.” I pause, meeting her eyes. “Don’t worry, it’s unlikely to last.”

Just days ago, I was trapped in that tower, unable to move. Now I’m alone, with money, horses, and most importantly…freedom. I know who I am, I know where I’ve come from, and I know what I’m protecting.

I untack one of the men’s horses, setting it free, before untying Hope’s lead rope and mounting the larger of the two horses—a dappled gray which seems placid enough.

I don’t let myself think about Calysian, likely still chained to the tree. If a tiny pang of guilt slices through my newfound positivity, well…that’s no one’s business but mine.

Perhaps this will teach him a lesson. Cross me at your own peril.

I take the quiet road north toward one of the main trade roads to Kolegrift. The sun begins to rise, and the early morning light flickers through trees, casting long shadows. Slowly, the landscape begins to change—trees thinning out, giving way to rolling fields dotted with livestock and the occasional small farmhouse. The air grows cooler, and the faint silhouette of Kolegrift comes into view as I take a left onto a trade road.

This road is much wider, filled with travelers on both foot and horseback. Merchants roll by with carts, farmers head toward the market, and Vicana’s guards patrol the path. I pull the hood of Calysian’s cloak over my head, my heart thumping, mouth turning dry as I pass a group of guards stationed near the city gates.

The gates themselves loom high enough that only the very stupid would attempt to climb them.

Four bodies hang from the stone walls on either side, swaying gentle in the breeze, their faces covered with dark hoods. A wooden placard swings from the neck of the nearest corpse, words scrawled in dark ink:

Traitor to the Crown .

Vicana. Likely, they were spies. Perhaps they were brave enough to speak out against her.

I dismount, leading both horses as I take my place at the back of the line forming ahead of me. A few merchants are waiting for inspection, a family with two children in a cart packed with turnips, and a couple of fae wait patiently, well-dressed and at ease even while surrounded by hybrids and humans.

The parents don’t bother covering their children’s eyes. They’ve probably passed through these gates a hundred times before—and seen bodies hanging from these walls more often than not.

In front of me, a few merchants nod at each other. One of them looks exhausted, his face tight with temper.

“What’s wrong with you?” a bearded man asks.

“Fucking troll,” the merchant says, rubbing at his eyes. “20 miles from the eastern entrance. I had to come all the way south to avoid it. Took me an extra day of travel.”

The other man winces. “Territorial beasts. Too much magic, not enough sense. Hopefully the Queen will send someone to dispatch it.”

The guards’ eyes scan me briefly as I pass through, but they don’t linger. I know Kyldare well enough to know it’s unlikely he’s told Vicana I escaped. He may have set bounty hunters and mercenaries after me, but he’ll still be hoping to find me before Vicana learns her hope of finding the grimoire is gone.

I’ve never been sure exactly what Kyldare is. If he’s a hybrid, he must have some strong fae blood in his lineage, because I’ve seen him use his power in dark ways with the help of his witch. Of course, there are many strange, powerful creatures on this continent that I’d never heard of before I stepped foot on this land. And I’m sure there are many more I will never encounter.

I mount my horse once more, riding down cobblestoned streets lined with taverns and market stalls. Faces blur as my blinks turn long and slow, fatigue swamping me.

Row houses stand tightly packed next to each other, each four stories high, but less than twenty footspans wide. Tall and narrow, the buildings are tiled, painted in bright, clashing colors—red, orange, yellow, even a strange shade of pink—seemingly chosen precisely to clash as much as possible with their neighbors. The intricate patterns on each tile save the row of houses from being garish, transforming it instead into something unexpectedly beautiful.

Despite my current situation, I pause, blinking away the fatigue.

I’ve been on this continent for three years. And yet I’ve seen so little of it. This city is so different, so delightfully foreign , it makes warmth spread through my chest.

People bustle by, many of them wearing loose robes in bright colors as they laugh and gossip, wandering in groups or striding past with a clear direction in mind. Several women walk into a tavern, arms linked, and one of them throws her head back with a laugh.

The sun is warm on my face, the brightness stinging my eyes. That’s why I blink several times, turning away from the women and their friendship.

I choose another inn—one next door to a tavern. My mind provides me with the feel of Calysian’s arm wrapped around my shoulder at the last inn, his brows lowered as he gazed at me in concern.

Now I know that concern wasn’t for me. It was for himself. It would, after all, be more difficult for him to use me to find the grimoire if my mind broke.

I give both horses to the stablehands and stumble into the inn, my entire body aching from so long in the saddle.

The innkeeper is a short, curvy woman with a baby on her hip. The child blinks at me owlishly as the woman takes the coins I hand her. “Your stay includes two meals in the tavern next door,” she says, bouncing the baby when she begins to fuss.

The tavern is quiet around this time of the morning. It’s still on the early side for lunch, but I order anyway, barely tasting the chicken and root vegetables.

I almost sleepwalk next door and up the stairs, where I wedge the lone chair beneath the doorknob, bathe, and fall face down onto the bed.

A tiny grave, next to a river. A woman, hugely pregnant, curled onto that grave.

“I promised him I would keep him safe. It was my job to keep him safe.”

The forest melts into a new place. A lush room filled with color and warmth.

Prisca, beaming at me.

My words slashing into her like knives. “I never asked to be part of your little group. I’m here to win this war and leave. So stop trying to make me care about you. All of you.”

Her smile slowly falling.

Asinia’s eyes hardening, her expression filled with both fury and pity.

Tears sting my eyes, and I attempt to wake.

Three of us, dressed for a day of joy, staring into a mirror. I’m wearing a crown of flowers, and I look strangely…soft.

Asinia is grinning at me, while Prisca’s eyes are filled with happiness once more. “I’m not sorry that you care, Madinia. Because when someone like you takes an interest…worlds change.”

I force my eyes open, staring up at the ceiling as I swallow around the burning lump in my throat.

Perhaps…perhaps the loss of my memories is a gift.

But I can’t ignore that tiny grave. Or the knowledge that if I don’t protect the grimoire, thousands of mothers will feel that same agony.

Already, Vicana has been encroaching into other kingdoms, grasping for more land to feed her ambitions. My years at court—and at war—taught me that great leaders don’t take what isn’t theirs. Not through conquest. Not through quiet theft. The rulers worth following build, protect, and strengthen. Vicana only devours.

Just as Regner did.

I roll to my feet, dress, and push the curtains open. The sun is high in the sky—I must have slept for a few hours, although it feels like only minutes.

My best option will be to try to find a seer here. They’re revered on this continent—seen as a direct link to the gods.

And yet, even the most powerful seer will admit that a single choice can have a ripple effect that will change the future entirely. It’s one of the reasons seers so often turn mad.

Still, I’m hoping a seer can tell me how to hide from Calysian. Perhaps they’ll even be able to give me some information about Daharak and the others.

I just…I just need something .

It’s not difficult to find a seer. The difficult part is handing over my few remaining coins in exchange for an hour with her.

The seer lives in a bright purple row house, and a woman with pale skin and bright orange hair opens the door, her eyes hard.

“Today is not a good day,” she tells me. “Come back tomorrow.”

“Let her in,” a voice calls. “I have been waiting for her.”

My stomach roils with unease. It’s never a good sign when a seer has previous knowledge of your existence.

The woman gives me an unfriendly look but opens the door further. The inside of the house is dark, the curtains drawn closed. I follow the woman through the entrance and into a small, cramped sitting room.

The seer sits on a sofa, a cup clutched in her hands. When she gazes at me, her eyes are filled with a strange knowledge. A knowledge that makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck.

“Finally,” she says. “You took your time.”

“I’m sorry, was my torture and imprisonment inconvenient for you?”

She stares at me, and then her mouth curves in a surprisingly infectious grin.

When she waves one hand toward the sofa in front of her, I sit, the warmth from the fire making my eyelids heavy.

“One would think you’d had enough sleep to last a lifetime.” She leans back, crossing her legs.

Ah. She clearly enjoys poking at people. “I wasn’t sleeping. As you likely know.” I let my gaze flick over her tight leggings, bejeweled tunic and carefully coiffed hair. “You don’t look like a seer.”

“What are seers supposed to look like?”

Crazy.

I don’t say the word, but she smirks at me.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

“Shaena. And you are Madinia Farrow. A woman who was caught within a vicious dream. One that wasn’t truly a dream at all. For three years.”

I grit my teeth. Three years of my life. Stolen. I’ll never get those years back.

“I know why you’re here, Madinia Farrow.”

“Then you know I’m searching for my friends.”

“What do you know of the grimoires?”

I sigh, pinching my nose. My scant hours of sleep didn’t help. If anything, I feel even more exhausted.

“I came to you with questions of my own.”

“This is important. Focus.” Her voice is hard, and I lift my head to find her looking at me with renewed urgency.

“The gods were fighting amongst themselves. They decided one of them had too much power. The Dark God.”

She nods. “His name was Calpharos, and he was clever, but forever bored. He and his twin grew tired of their siblings and their petty arguments as they shaped our world. His father had always had a soft spot for his youngest sons and had created one of the twins to be a little stronger than the others. And oh, how their siblings hated him for it.”

A strange sensation sweeps over me, making my skin crawl.

Shaena continues. “Tronin, the god of strength, fought Calpharos for years, becoming more and more frustrated as his brother bested him. So he conspired with Faric—the god of knowledge—and together, they went to their sister Creas, the goddess of memory.”

“They took his memories.”

She smiles. “They tried. But Calpharos was both betrayed and forewarned by another. He poured everything he was into those grimoires—his memories, his power, pieces of his soul. Then, he cast them out, intending to find them later, when it was safe. Those grimoires call to him, across continents, urging him to reclaim them. Urging him to become whole. And when he does, his fury will lay waste to this world.”

Tiny dots appear in front of my eyes.

Cal. Calpharos. Calysian.

“We have a problem,” I say, and my voice somehow stays steady.

The seer narrows her eyes and I force myself to continue.

“The dark god has already found me. And he’s looking for the grimoire I brought to this continent.”