“Don’t trust anyone.” His voice drops lower. “Especially not yourself.”
My hands start to shake, and the medical supplies slip from my grasp, clattering to the floor. “I–I have to go.”
I quickly gather the scattered supplies, then without another word, I turn on my heel and hurry away from him, his words ringing in my ears.
“The dead havetouched you.”
“Don’t trust anyone. Especially not yourself.”
What is he talking about? What does he want?
Before my brain catches up, I’m suddenly running, flying down corridors toward Seth’s quarters. I whip open the door and slam it shut behind me, my heart pounding from a fear I can’t understand.
What did he mean? Why did he say that to me? What does he know that I don’t?
Leaning back against the wooden door, I slump to the ground, terrified.
I don’t tellSeth about my encounter with Kieran. Every time I open my mouth to say something, the words stick in my throat. “The dead have touched you. Don’t trust anyone. Especially not yourself.” What am I supposed to do with that? How do I explain something I don’t understand?
So, I keep it buried. Let it fester.
The nightmares get worse.
I wake gasping, Seth’s arms already around me before I’m fully conscious. His voice is in my ear, low and soothing, but I can barely hear it over the pounding of my heart.
“Another one?” he murmurs against my hair.
I nod, not trusting my voice. The red mist still lingers behind my eyelids. Kieran’s words echo in my skull.
Seth’s hand slides up my spine, grounding me. “These aren’t merely nightmares anymore, Selene. Something’s wrong.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.” His fingers find the knot of tension at the base of my neck and start working it loose. “You haven’t slept through the night in weeks.”
“I said, I’m fine.” My insistence comes out sharper than I mean it to.
He pulls back slightly, studying my face in the dim light. Those green eyes of his see too much. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Everything! “Nothing. Just bad dreams.”
“Selene—”
“Please.” I press my palm against his chest and feel his heartbeat, steady and strong beneath my hand. “Can we not do this right now?”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t push it. Instead, he pulls me closer, tucking my head beneath his chin. “There’s a festival in the capital tomorrow. Come with me.”
I blink against his throat. “A festival?”
“Music, food, dancing. Normal things.” His hand resumes its path up and down my spine. “Things that don’t involve councils or politics or—”
“Nightmares,” I interject quietly.
“Yeah.” His lips brush my temple. “Let me take you somewhere you can just…exist. Without all this weight on your shoulders.”
The offer pulls at something in my chest. When was the last time I did something normal? When was the last time I wasn’t looking over my shoulder, waiting for the next crisis?
“Okay,” I whisper.
