“They will be safe under my protection.”
“And the other nations? What about the other peoples?”
“They are not our concern.”
Her mother’s harshness and callousness shocked her, even though she knew it should not. Her mother had lost her heart a long time ago, having buried it so deeply that it finally died inside of her. Selene gripped her fingers together. “So why allow the Assembly of the Great Houses—and here, no less? To spy on them?”
“No. To start eliminating them.”
Selene’s mouth fell open in a silent O. The room dimmed, then came back into focus. This . . . this was all wrong. Selene thought she was going to faint, but she fought against the darkness scrolling across her vision. She pressed her fingers deep into her palms until her eyesight came back. “If you are eliminating all of the Great Houses, then why does this threat from the north matter?”
“I wish to deal with it first, here, during the assembly.”
A threat from the north. Two houses. House Maris and House Vivek. Two dreamkillers. Her mother . . . and her.
This would be her first assignment.
Selene tightened, then loosened her fingers. “So we will kill the grand lords and ladies of both House Vivek and House Maris.”
“Yes.” Her mother nodded, her devilish smile coming back.
Selene let the numbness slide over her, stealing away her mind, her heart, until she felt nothing. “And which house shall I take?”
“House Maris. I shall take House Vivek. I want you to begin walking in Lord Damien’s dreams tonight. Find his fears. Find his secrets. Then, on the last night, we strike.”
“And you don’t think the other houses will suspect anything?”
Her mother stood and brushed out her long gown. “Oh, they will. But I will make sure all accusations are pointed toward the empire. After all, this assembly is here to discuss what to do with the empire’s encroachments on our land. So there was bound to be an assassin from the empire present. No one will suspect it was one of the houses.” Her mother turned, then paused and looked back. “I do not need to tell you that what I’ve shared is bound to our house secrets. You may never speak of this to anyone.”
Selene bowed her head and nodded.
“Now I must go. The first of the talks begin this morning.” She headed toward the door. “But tonight,” she called back, “we begin.”
Selene left her mother’s bedchambers shortly after, her body still numb. Her mind went back to last evening, to Lord Damien who sat beside her, with the short dark hair and deep blue eyes. To the young man who spoke of the ocean with a soft smile.
“Don’t think, don’t feel.” She chanted those words under her breath as she went to her room to retrieve her swords and black clothes and prepare herself for her first mission. But when she reached her room, the numbness could no longer contain the swirl of emotions inside of her. All she could see was Damien’s face and hear his tenor voice, and know that soon she would be the one to end his life.
Selene shut the door behind her, covered her face with her hands, slid to the floor, and cried.
21
Selene spent the rest of the day in the small training area on the southern side of Rook Castle until it was too dark to see and her body was thoroughly tired. Then she bypassed most of the castle, avoiding the dining area, and slipped to her bedchambers. Long had her tears dried, but she felt heavy, like a block of ice was inside of her. She shut the door to her room and rubbed the skin above her heart. Maybe she didn’t have a heart anymore. Maybe it was beginning to shrivel up and die like Mother’s.
Every time she remembered their conversation from this morning, Selene shoved the memories away. She wasn’t numb enough yet to face what her family had become: traitors to the other houses and traitors to the people around them. And allies of the Dominia Empire—
Selene clenched her hands and marched across her room to the small table that stood by the changing panels, topped with a ceramic pitcher and bowl. She stripped off her loose tunic and beige pants. After dumping the soiled clothing in the corner, she poured tepid mint-scented water from the pitcher into the bowl and began to wipe away the sweat and grime that had accumulated from her exercise. She finished with her hair, then placed on clean underclothes and black attire for this evening’s mission.
It was fully dark now, barely light enough in her bedchambers to see what she was doing. In some ways, the darkness soothed her, allowing her to hide who she really was in the shadows and become the dreamkiller.
Selene secured the small curved blades to her side and glanced out the window. Tonight she would see what kind of security Damien had, then begin to explore his dream world. But just in case something went wrong, she was ready.
The moon was now rising swiftly over the Magyr Mountains, bathing the peaks in its pale light. She secured her scarf across her face and pulled her hood over her head. Everything in place. But inside, her stomach seemed to have broken out of its ice block and was now writhing like a nest of snakes.
She placed a hand on her midsection and closed her eyes.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Emotions had no place on her mission. She imagined shoving down every feeling inside of her until she felt nothing but cold and her stomach grew hard again. The chill was her friend. It kept the thoughts and feelings that would interfere with her work at bay.
She was in control.
Satisfied, Selene headed toward the door. The hallway was silent, and only the subtle flare of candlelight lit her way. Even that was more than she needed. She knew these halls and could find her way blindfolded.
After two turns, she headed down a fourth hall to a small storage room once used by her grandmother’s personal servant. Inside, she followed a stack of wooden crates to the back wall and pressed down on a small lever located near the corner. The wall slid to the side, leading into a narrow tunnel. Selene entered and moved the wall back into place behind her before continuing on to the tunnel that would lead her beneath Lord Damien’s balcony.
The air was cold in here and smelled of dust. There was no candlelight now, just the darkness and her own memory of the path. Quietly she made her way along, her fingers brushing the sides of the cool rock wall. Ten minutes later, she met the first curve and rounded it. A minute later, another turn. The air grew colder and the scent of pine replaced the dust smell. Almost there.
A moment later, she stooped down and emerged through the tiny opening in the rocky face of the cliff, the moon her only light. Right above her was the balcony that led to the guest room Lord Damien had been given. Mother must have been planning this mission in advance if she had placed the grand lord here.
Glancing up, Selene spotted the footholds within the rock wall and scurried up the boulders to the balcony above without a second thought. Somewhere in the valley below, a timber wolf howled. Seconds later, it was answered by another wolf farther away.
Selene ignored the nightly noise as she grabbed the lip of the stone balcony and swung her body up gracefully. She was over the railing before she took a breath and paused next to the curved doorway. Lord Damien had not bothered to shut the door. Given the heat, she was not surprised. The cool mountain air was refreshing after a warm autumn day.
Silently she peered around the doorway. The bedchamber was one of their more lavish ones, with a four-poster bed against the far wall, massive stone fireplace to the left, a mountain bear rug across the stone floor, and opulently framed paintings of the Magyr Mountains along the walls.
Selene narrowed her eyes and gazed across the room. There were two other doors, each one leading into separate rooms, apart from the one that led into the hallway. Who slept in the rooms beyond? She recalled Lord Damien had come with a small party of four other men. Most likely those men were in the other rooms.
She then focused on the large four-poster bed where a single body lay. There was a small space on the other side of the bed by the wall—facing away from the d
oors—where she could crouch down and not be seen. That was where she would position herself.
Her soft-skinned boots made no sound as Selene stole across the room to the bedside. Lord Damien lay on his back as if he had passed out. A wry smile crept across her lips. Good. It appeared the talks had taken everything out of him. He hadn’t even bothered to change out of his clothes or crawl beneath the covers.
She took a moment to gaze at his face. Her stomach did a small flip. Up this close, and without his own eyes staring back, she was able to fully take in his features. Lord Damien was indeed a handsome man. His dark hair, kept shorter than was common, was thick and full. His face held traces of his youth, but the stubble across his jaw indicated he was fully man. And not just a man, but one who kept his physique in top condition as indicated by the tight, lean muscles beneath his thin tunic.
Selene brought her thoughts to bear and pushed them away. She had a job to do.
She knelt down beside his bed. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, leaving his forearm exposed. That was where she would make contact.
Her heart started thumping inside her chest, and a cold sweat broke out along the back of her neck and back. It was one thing to enter a servant’s dreams, but quite another to enter a stranger’s. And not just any stranger, but the head of a Great House.
Focus, Selene. He’s just a man. A man with fears just like any other. You’re here to find out what his are and nothing more.
Still, her hand shook as she reached for his arm. Would his dreamscape be like Petur’s, filled with horrific secrets? Or dark and bloody like Hagatha’s with the timber wolves?
Or like Renata’s?
She squeezed her eyes shut at the last memory, guilt clawing at her. No matter what she found inside Lord Damien’s mind, she would make sure to keep her emotions under control. Never again would she shatter another person’s dreamscape.
After she took some deep breaths, her hand stopped shaking. Selene opened her eyes, reached up, and gently wrapped her fingers around his forearm. His skin was warm against her cool fingers. Before she could form another thought, she was drawn into his dreamscape—forcibly so, as if she had been pulled inside by his own will.
Selene gasped. That had never happened before. Bright light filled her vision as her body took its raven form. Her talons hit the ground and she stumbled back, holding a wing over her eyes.
It took a moment for her eyesight to adjust to the light, then she slowly brought her wing down. The air around her was warm, in a comforting way. She had never felt warmth like this, not even on the fullest day of the sun month. It was like submerging beneath the waters of one of the hot springs around Rook Castle. Even the air here was sweet and heady. And light-filled. Not dark like Renata’s dreamscape. Not monochromatic like Petur’s.
She felt a pull again from deep within, drawing her into Lord Damien’s dreamscape. Almost as if it wanted her here. She gave her body a shake, then spread her wings. Such a strange sensation. And unlike any other dreamscape she had visited.
She lifted lightly from the ground. As she rose, the dreamscape spread out before her, its appearance like one of those oil paintings that hung in the east wing, the one with the beautiful beaches, long stretches of blue water, and white sand. Is this what Lord Damien dreamed of? Was this his essence—water and light?
How would she find what he feared if this was who he was? Did he even have any fears?
She snorted at her own thoughts. Of course he did. Everyone feared something. She might have to dive deep into his dreams, but she would find it.
She flew higher, letting the wind currents carry her along the dreamscape. On and on she flew, along the white sandy coast, the sweet air brushing past her face and feathers. So . . . beautiful. Was this what the Northern Shores looked like? If so, she wanted to visit it in the real world more than anything. A part of her wanted to land, change back into her human form, and simply walk in the light along the edge of the water.
She gave her head a shake and pumped with her wings. That wasn’t what she was here for.
A minute later, a bright light appeared along the horizon, even brighter than the sun-like light around her. Selene flapped her wings and steered toward it.
The closer she drew, the more it looked like a bonfire along the beach, only the flames were white, not red and orange like the physical fires she was used to.
She angled her body and started down in a slow circular descent. The white fire entranced her, as if drawing her toward it with invisible tethers.
A second later, she pulled up hard and fast. The fire lay fifty feet beneath her. Selene breathed hard and stared. At this range, she could see each flame dancing upon the other, a revolving orb of white light.
It couldn’t be. But it was. She could feel it now.
Damien’s soul.
Selene swooped down onto the sand and hovered ten feet away and stared at the white fire. His soul was nothing like Petur’s or Anna’s. So alive, so full of light.
Mother said to never touch the soulsphere, but it was if her dream body was moving of its own accord. Selene slipped out of her raven form and her bare feet stepped upon the sand. She stood before the ball of light.
More than anything she wanted to touch it. The desire was like a fierce wolf inside of her, lunging at the chance to touch the gleaming sphere. She reached out her hand. It was like standing before a roaring fire on a cold winter’s night. One touch, just one finger.
So different than her own cold, dark soul.
She pulled her hand back and spun around. What was she doing? One touch and he would’ve sensed her presence.
I’ve got to get out of here!
Selene transformed back into a raven and sped toward the breach in the dreamscape, her heart pounding and breathing ragged.
A second later, she found herself back in the bedchamber, her knees numb from kneeling on the stone floor.
Damien gave a low groan, and one of the doors on the other side of the room opened.
Selene froze, her head below the mattress.
Footsteps, barely a whisper across the stone floor, approached the bed.
Sweat spread across her body, soaking into her clothing. She could feel the weight of her blades, ready to be drawn at any notice. Her mind switched to a layout of the bedchamber, calculating a path to the balcony and how long it would take to sprint across the room and disappear over the railing.
The footsteps stopped near the bed.
Damien groaned again and moved across the mattress.
Whoever stood nearby let out a sigh, and the sound of footsteps grew distant.
Selene waited, every part of her being focused on the other person in the room. A door opened and shut moments later.
Selene listened. The only sound now was Damien’s gentle breathing and the distant howl of a timber wolf outside.
Quietly, she lifted her head and scanned for the two doors on the other side of the room. Both were closed.
She slowly stood on shaky legs, ready to run at the slightest provocation, her heart still thrashing inside her chest. Only adrenaline was keeping her mind and body from freezing. She glanced again at Damien and shook her head. She was not in a state where she could reenter his dreamscape. She needed to get back to her room and collect her thoughts and emotions. She would just have to try another night.
She turned and silently stole across the room to the balcony. With one swift movement, she launched herself over the railing and landed on the small rocky lip, her knees bent, her hands spread out across the cold surface. She stared down at her hands, her mind freeing itself from the fear from moments ago and drawing back to the scene she had stumbled upon in Damien’s dreamscape: his luminous soul.
Who exactly was this man? Why did his soul look like that?
And why did she want to touch it so badly?
22
Damien pulled on a clean light tunic while fighting back a yawn. Yesterday’s talks were long and tedious, with each
house positioning themselves with words. The Dominia Empire barely came up. He tightened his belt around the tunic, then shrugged on his sleeveless leather jacket. Today he would need to keep the conversations on topic. There were only a couple of days remaining to figure out a plan before some of the houses left. Time was already ticking.
“Lord Damien, good morning.”
Damien glanced back and spotted Taegis with the guards Sten and Karl exiting the room they shared. The three men bowed to him. Taegis dismissed Sten and Karl, then approached Damien while the two guards headed for the door.
“We will be taking shifts outside the meeting hall today, so if you need one of us, we will be there.”
Damien nodded as he secured his sword at his side.
“You appear tired. Is everything all right?”
Damien glanced up. Did it show on his face? “Yes. I had the strangest dream last night. I was walking along the shoreline near Nor Esen when a raven appeared. It continued to follow me. I’m not sure what it means—if it is an omen or my mind simply adjusting to Rook Castle. I’ve seen more ravens here than I have anywhere else.”
Taegis looked at him thoughtfully. “I would wager the latter, but I also would not discount it being an omen. If so, watch out. It could be warning you.”
“Of what?”
Taegis shrugged. “Perhaps the talks, perhaps of one of the houses. I know little about dreams, but my grandmother used to be leery of all black birds, especially ones in dreams. Then again, she hated ravens, so who knows.”
Damien thought again about the dream from last night. The raven had not appeared portentous. “I will keep that in mind.”
The two men left the guest chambers and headed for the meeting hall. As Damien glanced around at the architecture, furniture, and artwork in Rook Castle, the more he was convinced the raven was merely an intrusion of his surroundings on his mind rather than something more.
At the double doors, Taegis stepped to the side and folded his hands in front of him. He was not alone. There were guards from the other houses, all here to secure the safety of their lords and ladies.
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