“Yes,” I said immediately, though the words felt hollow. I couldn’t quite recall everything. I’d nodded off, and half the information I retained from the last hour was fuzzy.
“If you had, you’d know that hallucinations can be created one of two ways: by projecting a scene into someone’s mind, or by projecting an emotion and allowing their subconscious to create the scene.” He gave me a cool side-glance. “Now, how could I have projected a scene of Michael’s torture if I was never there?”
“You could’ve stopped it!” I exclaimed.
Facing away from me, he opened the door with a flick of his wrist. “Yes. And you could’ve as well.”
Oliver fell in with a loud thud, offering a sheepish grin. The king glanced down at him briefly, grunted, and stepped over his sprawled body.
“Retain more of what you read, daughter. I’ll find you for our next session in a couple of days.”
Hearing my second door close, I sank back onto my bed, dropping my head into shaky hands, hoping they’d be still by the time we went to the arena.
Oliver scrambled over to sit beside me. “That was the longest hour of my life,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know whether I should’ve called for help or… just wait.”
Alexei’s ungodly trumpeting started.
Oliver nudged my shoulder. “You good?”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “I’ll be fine. Just had a rough power lesson, is all.”
“And… we’re good, right?”
I lifted my head from my hands. His concern tugged at my heart. I grabbed his hand and squeezed.
“Yes, Oli. We’re good.”
He’d only asked questions I never wanted to think about. That didn’t make him the bad guy—just a smart one.
He squeezed my hand back, warm and reassuring. “You sure you’re okay?”
I gave Oliver a small smile. “The king’s hallucinations were…” I swallowed. “They were difficult to experience.”
I continued to hold his hand, unwilling to let go, needing to feel the warmth of his skin and steady rhythm of his pulse. The gentle pressure calmed my racing thoughts, grounding me back to reality. I glanced back at my mattress, noticing the wrinkled bedding and faint impressions where Rune and Oliver had slept. The reminders that they’d only been hallucinations eased some of my trembling.
“If you say so.”
I was grateful he didn’t press further.
“Where’s Rune?”
“The king kicked us out of the room. Told me I could stay in the sitting area but sent Rune back to the general.”
“Interesting,” I muttered. The king didn’t exactly seem to like Rune, but maybe it wasn’t Rune herself. Perhaps it was the fact that the general could snoop through his Soulhound.
The trumpet blared again. I didn’t want to leave yet, but I knew we needed to.
“We’d better get going, Oli. We’re already on everyone’s shit list as it is.”
He groaned and stood, releasing my hand. I refrained from snatching it back.
“Fine. See you in five.”
After changing and taking a few more deep breaths, Oliver and I met up with Alexei outside my door, then headed to the training arena.
“Welcome back, recruits,”the general called out over the whispering sea of bodies below the dais. Alexei and a red-haired female stood on either side of him, both wearing flat expressions and Hell Squadron uniforms with fewer accents of red. Behind them, three more males stood at attention, their faces and uniforms matching—his Dreads. “Most of you made it to your second day of the Infernal Sixty.”
Most?
