Deadly Dreams (Fortuna Sworn Book 3)

by K. J. Sutton

  The wind was strong tonight. It pushed against the house and howled with rage, wanting a clear path through the woods and toward new places. I wondered if a blizzard was coming. After a few minutes, I heard something clicking down the hallway. It was the basset hound, Stanley—he must’ve heard me hit the table. His hackles were raised as he sat near me.

  “What’s happening, old boy?” I asked softly, scratching the back of his ear. Even inside, something about the pressure in the air didn’t feel natural, and my mind chose that moment to remember Lyari’s comment in the woods. Death. I thought I smelled death.

  I was shivering again, but this time, it had nothing to do with the cold. The barn was visible on the other side of the room, through a wide window. My gaze flicked up to the weathervane. It spun violently, a tiny silhouette against the moon.

  Then a cry tore through the night.

  A flavor burst on my tongue that was now familiar, something cold and metallic. Leaving Stanley, I rushed down the hall and into the one room I hadn’t yet checked. Light slanted over the green carpet. It stretched toward Collith’s face and made it easier to see the lines that weren’t there before. His chest glittered with sweat. He muttered in the relentless grip of his dreams, something about fire and choking air. Roars and red rivers. He tossed and turned like someone in a wild, raging sea.

  I ran over to the bed, knelt beside it, and shook the faerie king’s shoulder. “Wake up. Hey, Collith, open your eyes. You’re having another nightmare.”

  He shouted as he jerked awake. I was prepared and shifted back just in time. Collith’s pupils expanded and shrank as they focused on me. He realized my hand was on his shoulder, then, and drew away from my touch. Tears streamed down his unshaven cheeks. When it was clear that he was truly awake, I perched on the edge of the bed. I listened for the sound of doors opening or footsteps, but it seemed everyone else in this house slept like the dead. The thought caused a flutter of apprehension in my stomach.

  Unaware of my own fear, Collith sat up more. The muscles in his stomach bunched. He stared at the far wall, his eyes glassy and tormented. For the past month his brown hair had been growing unchecked, and it hung nearly to his shoulders now. He looked nothing like the lovely, remote king I’d first met.

  King. It reminded me that the Tithe was tomorrow. While Collith had been recovering here in the human world, I’d been to Court nearly every day—it turned out that being queen was a full-time job. In the past month I’d hosted the heads of bloodlines at dinners, attended council meetings, made appearances at events and gatherings, and resolved disputes in the form of tribunals. I’d also been dealing with the fallout of absolving the fae’s slave trade. There had been three attempts made on my life, all of them thwarted by none other than Nuvian.

  When I wasn’t doing any of that, or surviving against another faerie who wanted me dead, there was always paperwork waiting. The Never-Ending Pile of Paperwork, I’d begun to call it in my head.

  As I focused on Collith now, I realized there were some benefits to the broken bond between him and the Unseelie Court—he was free of the burden that came with wearing a crown. Hopefully, it quickened his healing process. Once he was better, Collith could resume his kingly duties and everything else would go back to normal, too.

  But had our lives ever been normal? What did that even mean for people like us?

  Thinking of the price I had paid to bring Collith back, of what I’d done to reverse my mistake, my mind shied away from the shame and pain. As always, the demon found me anyway, his leering face popping from the darkness. Shall I tell you what my brothers and sisters are doing to your beloved right now?

  “Will you tell me what I dreamed?” Collith asked hoarsely, not looking at me. I refocused on him, grateful for the distraction. He was so close that I felt his breath on my cheek, a spot of coolness that normally would’ve bothered me in this inescapable cold. I stared at his profile, admiring the curve of his jaw and the way a thick lock of hair fell over his pointed ear. At this angle, I couldn’t see his scar, but I didn’t like that. The scar was beautiful. The scar was part of his face.

  In the next moment, it occurred to me that Collith was still waiting for an answer. Heat touched my cheeks and warded off the chill.

  Will you tell me what I dreamed? The pain in his voice should have crept down that invisible connection between us, joining with mine. Even now, weeks after its dissolution, it was strange talking to him without the mating bond. I remembered how, before his death, we’d been able to communicate with just our expressions. Now it felt like there was a brick wall where the magic used to be, and all I could see of Collith were glimpses caught through the cracks.

  “I didn’t see it,” I lied.

  I told myself the truth would only cause more damage. The images of Collith’s nightmares—they were rank with fear, making it possible for me to see when I wasn’t guarded against them—were violent and brief. Flames and teeth. Shadows and blood. Collith wouldn’t survive it. He was like those windows in the barn, so fragmented and fragile. One powerful gust of wind, one terrible blow, and even those last, clinging pieces would fall.

  Hell was real, and Collith had been there.

  The thought made whatever other words I’d been about to say die in my throat. Guilt burrowed in my skin like a thousand wood ticks.

  Now that Collith was awake, I moved to sit in a chair near the bed, bringing my legs up so they were against me. I rubbed at my arms and avoided his gaze. The grandfather clock ticked from the dining room. Tick. Tick. Tick.

  “A storm is coming,” Collith whispered suddenly. I looked at him, but his hazel eyes were fixed on the small, round window. The only one his room had. It was too high for him to reach, if he walked in his sleep. He hadn’t yet, but Emma still worried.

  I frowned and followed his gaze to that black sky. “There wasn’t a blizzard in the forecast, but Cyrus is more than prepared for it. He’s prepared for everything—a couple of weeks ago, he showed me the bomb shelter he made himself. There were even shelves of food. So don’t worry about a storm, okay? We’re completely fine.”

  Another silence sucked the oxygen from the room. I hated it even more than I hated seeing Collith in pain. I couldn’t help but think of what we would’ve been doing, if I hadn’t ruined everything. The people we’d been before would be bantering right now. Playing Connect Four. Making out on the bed. No, doing more than making out. Now I felt tainted, ruined, and it would spread to Collith if he so much as touched me.

  “Fortuna,” he said, startling me.

  When our gazes met, Collith didn’t say anything else. I still knew what came next, because it had happened this way, every night, for the past month. It was something in his voice, a sort of lilt in the way he said my name. I met his gaze already knowing what I’d find.

  Within those haunted depths, a light of pleading shone. “Please tell me,” Collith said.

  This time, he wasn’t talking about his dreams.

  It didn’t matter that he had asked this question before. For some reason, it never did. I was helpless as my mind went back for what felt like the millionth time. Remembering, no, reliving one of the worst nights of my life.

  Still lying on the kitchen table, Collith’s eyes shot open.

  When I saw this, when I realized he was awake, my heart hammered. Part of me wondered if it was a dream or delirium. I stayed in that rickety chair and stared at him, forgetting how to breathe. Sweat broke out on my palms. Every coherent thought within me went silent.

  “Collith?” I whispered finally. The sound of my voice drew his gaze, but he said nothing. Slowly, I stood up. I could sense everyone in the kitchen staring at us in silent shock. In that moment, I realized how badly I had fucked up. What if the demon brought Collith back in body, but not in mind? What if the demon had put someone else—something else—inside him? I swallowed once, then twice, struggling to speak past the dryness in my throat. “Are you… all right?”

  The faerie king
kept looking at me, his expression frozen in confusion, as though he didn’t recognize my face.

  Then he started to scream.

  I recoiled so violently that I fell over the chair and crashed to the floor. Distantly, I heard Emma gasp and Damon say my name. There was no time to respond or explain—Collith rolled off the table, stumbling as he tried to stand, but his legs were like those of a newborn fawn. He fell down beside me and began to crawl. I had the inexplicable, panicked thought that if he reached the door, we would never see him again.

  “Hold him down!” I shouted, lunging to seize his ankle. Despite their obvious confusion, the others moved instantly. Collith bellowed, fighting the hands clamping onto him, and I lost my grip. Terror must’ve lent him some degree of strength—Finn went flying and hit the wall of cupboards—and I realized Collith would overpower them if I didn’t do something. The thought of using my abilities on him, though, made me want to vomit. There was only one other person who was strong enough to subdue him. My insides quaked as I took a breath and forced myself to say his name. “Laurelis. Laurelis, we need you.”

  The Seelie King materialized within moments. He had changed clothes in the brief time we’d been apart, the gold-lined tunic replaced by jeans and a cashmere sweater. His starlight hair was messier than usual, as though he’d run his fingers through it a hundred times in the past hour. I watched his bright eyes land on me first, then move over the rest of the room. Finn, Cyrus, and Damon were still struggling with the faerie I’d brought back to life, while Emma cowered in the corner.

  I knew the exact second Laurie registered Collith, somehow, though his expression didn’t change. It was something in the king’s eyes—a tender sort of disbelief, as though he were half-afraid this was a dream. I knew the feeling. Time seemed to slow, and I felt the unexpected prick of jealousy as I saw the depths of Laurie’s love. Love that no amount of years, quarrels, or new queens could touch.

  Then Collith lunged for the door, and the stillness shattered like thin glass.

  He got his fingers around the knob before Laurie moved, who must’ve seen the lightning bolt of panic that struck me. In the space of a blink, he was across the room, hauling Collith back with no visible effort. His eyes narrowed in concentration while the others burst into action again. Seconds later, Collith’s frantic efforts faltered—thank God he didn’t seem to remember he had the gift of heavenly fire or the ability to sift—and he stared at the walls with dark, bewildered eyes. His chest rose and fell from the force of his panic. It was my guess that Laurie had made the doors and windows vanish.

  After another minute of wrestling, the four males finally succeeded in restraining the Unseelie King. The fight drained from him like water going down a drain. Damon produced some rope from his bedroom, which none of us asked why he had, and soon Collith was tied to a chair. Even as my brother secured the knots, Collith offered no protests. Instead, he hung his head and continued to breathe hard.

  Slowly, I got back to my feet. Everything had happened so quickly that I’d remained on the floor throughout the chaos. As I approached, I held my hands out as if Collith were some kind of wild animal. He’d stopped screaming, at least, but there was still no recognition when he raised his gaze. I spoke in calm, measured tones. “You’re among friends, Collith. We’re not going to hurt you. I’m Fortuna. Your Fortuna. Don’t you remember?”

  Though I wasn’t entirely sure what I was saying, I kept talking. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into hours. Sunlight shining through the windows, which had begun as a trickle, became a river. Emma and Cyrus slipped from the room without my noticing, but Laurie, Finn, and Damon stayed. There was a distant rumble—probably the mailman—and the steady hum of heat coming through the vents. These were the only sounds in the world, save the uneven cadence of my own voice.

  At long last, though, I fell silent. I had run out of words, even the meaningless ones. Nothing I said would reverse the clock or undo the damage. For another stretch of time, the five of us sat in that room without moving or speaking. Questions would come, I knew, but for now, we waited. We hoped. We grieved.

  The silence finally ended when Collith started rocking. I reached for him just as he released another new sound—a low keening. I understood, then, and my hand fell to my side, heavy with shame. Inside Collith was a pain so profound that it couldn’t be put into words or sobs. Whatever he’d experienced in those hours of death had utterly destroyed the powerful king I once knew.

  I’d done this to him. I’d broken him. Tears swelled in my eyes, making everything hazy. It felt like someone had shoved a dull knife into my gut.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I heard myself whisper. Following a faint instinct, I knelt in front of Collith and touched his knee. He went still and looked at my hand with an expression I couldn’t decipher. I swallowed the emotion swelling in my throat and added, “I promise.”

  At the same moment, I caught Damon watching me. There was a tightness to his mouth that revealed how he felt about my words. “You know what Dad told us, Fortuna,” he muttered.

  Thankfully, Collith didn’t seem to hear him. He started rocking again—back and forth, back and forth. I ignored Damon and focused wholly on the faerie I’d sacrificed so much to bring back. Maybe he felt it, because his hazel eyes met mine again. There you are, I thought with a burst of hope. My Collith was still in there somewhere. All was not lost. “Nightmares may be lies, but we don’t have to be liars,” I murmured, forgetting that we had an audience. “It means that when we make a promise, we keep it.”

  Something I said must’ve reached him. Collith raised his head now, and everyone seemed to hold their breath. Were his memories coming back? Did he recognize us?

  Just as I opened my mouth to speak again, Collith’s eyes rolled back into his head. The chair tipped from his weight.

  He hit the tile with a violent thud.

  I pulled my mind back to the present. That had been weeks ago now, and some days I wondered if Collith was still that broken-eyed person who’d been tied to a kitchen chair.

  “Would you believe that I doubted it? Before all this?” Collith said, drawing me out of my thoughts. Once again, he avoided looking directly at me. His skin was pearly in the moonlight, all the way down to his waist, where the bedspread pooled around his lean hips. I didn’t let myself feel the thrill I used to get whenever I saw him unclothed—it never lasted longer than a moment, and then I saw the demon rising over me, forcing himself inside again and again.

  Collith asked you something, I remembered bleakly. “Doubted what?” I asked. My voice was dull.

  “I didn’t really believe something more existed.” Collith uttered a mirthless laugh. There was a hardness to him that hadn’t existed before. I’d only caught glimpses of it, but it was there. “I have the proof on my very back, yet I had such trouble believing in what I couldn’t see. It’s all real, Fortuna. Souls. Heaven. Hell. God. The Devil.”

  This he said in a whisper.

  I didn’t know what to say. As I looked away, ashamed of my discomfort, my gaze passed over the alarm clock. I had to get up early for the breakfast shift at Bea’s, which meant I needed to get some more sleep. Maybe this time, I’d be too exhausted to reach the dreamscape. I stood up, but I wavered between leaving Collith alone or staying close, offering him what warmth I had.

  Compassion and guilt won. I sat on the bed again. Collith was still sitting on the edge, head bowed, his elbows resting atop his knees. I pressed close and wrapped my arms gently around him.

  “Don’t,” he whispered. If he truly hadn’t wanted me there, though, he would’ve shifted or pushed me away. But he stayed in the circle of my arms, his body shaking with silent sobs. I just rested my head against Collith’s and breathed in his scent. It was different from before, less fae, somehow. The alluring combination of frost and the earth had been replaced by laundry detergent and pain. As we sat there, a tear dripped off the end of Collith’s chin, and I reached up to wipe it away wit
h the tip of my finger.

  Just then, another cry echoed down the hallway. One that had nothing to do with the faerie in my arms.

  Right on cue, I thought with an audible sigh. Cyrus had been having nightmares, too. Seeing my house burn down had triggered something inside him, or maybe opened a door he had managed to keep shut for as long as I’d known him. Lately, I’d noticed smudges beneath his eyes during our shifts at the bar.

  “Are you okay now?” I asked Collith, reluctant to leave him. He just nodded, lowered himself back to the mattress, pulled the bedspread over his shoulders, and turned his back to me. Slowly, I stood and went to the door.

  Cyrus gave another shout—he’d wake up the rest of the house, if he hadn’t already—so I forced myself to cross the threshold. But I left the door to Collith’s room open a crack, just in case he needed me again.

  Outside, the wind howled on.

  I didn’t try to fall back asleep.

  As soon as daylight shone through the blinds, I hurried out of bed and got dressed. Within seconds I wore yoga pants and a long-sleeved shirt, my hair back in a long ponytail. Once again, I made my way through the house, cringing with every creak of the wooden floor. Fortunately, no one else seemed to be awake yet.

  No one except Finn, whose bright eyes appeared at my elbow the moment I reached the door. He must’ve begun the transformation into a wolf while I’d been comforting Collith.

  Safely outside—I swallowed a curse when the screen door slammed against the outside wall—I shook my arms and legs, then moved into stretches. Every breath made a frigid cloud. I resisted the urge to go back for a jacket, because I knew I’d be warm soon enough.

  When it came time to decide on my route, I looked toward the road, assessing its quiet emptiness, eyeing the smooth pavement. Too easy. Some dark, dominant part of me liked the punishment of steep terrain and uneven ground. Maybe even craved it.