In the end, it doesn’t matter what he says or how angry he becomes. There is nothing I won’t do to keep him from Wren.
I wake with a silent scream, tangled in the sheets and cold sweat dripping down my neck. Wren’s arm is draped across my chest, the soft sounds of her breaths steadying as I work to ground my mind in reality.
A nightmare.
That’s all it was. Just a fucking nightmare.
Like every other time I’ve been plagued by that specific dream, it didn’t matter how hard I fought. The king still took Wren, but not before his dragon sliced my chest open, leaving me bleeding out in the field of poppies.
The ghost of that pain lingers, and my hand goes to my stomach, almost surprised to find it in one piece.
I know it wasn’t real, but it felt like it was. Tangible, almost. The colors had been brighter. The dragon’s roar, louder. The pain, more acute. It was like my heart had been torn from my chest, and even now, its beats don’t feel as strong.
Grandmother’s amulet is still hanging around my neck, but it’s losing its potency. Can the magic stored within it run out? What if one day, it stops working altogether and the king finds us?
What if I won’t be able to protect Wren?
The thought has my blood chilling, pushing sleep firmly out of reach. I open my eyes and glance out the window where the three glowing moons are slivers hanging in the sky. Dawn is still hours off.
Wren’s features are soft beside me, and a knot in my chest loosens at the sight. Thank the gods, I didn’t wake her up with my thrashing—she needs her rest. Soren and Jasper have been spending every spare moment they have teaching her the basics of magic.
Apparently, the process usually takes much longer, but they’ve crammed it into a fortnight. Wren has been a studious pupil, absorbing everything without a complaint.
Sliding back, I gently place Wren’s arm on the mattress before getting out of bed. Mist is sleeping near the front door, and she blinks sleepily at me as I pull on a pair of pants.
Fastening my belt, I bend, scratching the panther behind the ears. My arm is a little sore, a remnant of the injuries I suffered when we first came to the rebels. I have a feeling it’ll never truly go away. “I’m going to head out for a bit, okay?”
Silver eyes study mine.
“You’ll watch her?”
Mist’s gaze crawls over to the bed, then back to me before my chest warms.Yes, her eyes seem to say.
“Thank you.” I rub her head before standing and exchanging my sweat-soaked tunic for a long-sleeved black one. I pull it on and pick up my sword, which Alaric returned to me after I had woken, before casting one last look at the bed.
Wren has gathered my pillow to her chest, and she’s snoring softly. The rumbles fill the cabin, warming my chest more than any fire ever had. I cross the space, double-checking that her dagger is next to the bed before pulling up her blanket and kissing her forehead.
“I’ll be back soon,” I murmur.
She doesn’t reply, and I’m confident she’s still asleep as I slip out the door. I lock it behind me, sliding the key into my pocket. I don’t bother with a lantern—the moons will guide my way.
Our cabin is unguarded, a sign of the rebels’ growing trust. The air is cold as I walk into the forest, moving with purpose. My gaze sweeps through the trees, never staying in one spot for too long. I’m always on edge—a side effect of being a Hunter for so long.
Traces of my nightmare still niggle at the back of my mind, and I crane my neck, scanning the sky. Searching for any sign of my father, his eagle familiar, or the dragon.
There are none, but there is no relief to be found. The nightmare still has its claws in my mind, and Wren’s screams are echoing in my ears.
I walk a bit further, keeping my eyes trained above the treetops. The air glimmers in the moonlight, a constant, visible reminder of the net protecting the camp from the king.
Or at least, that’s what it’s supposed to do.
But my amulet is supposed to provide protection, too, and the nightmares keep slipping past. What if the net fails?
I can’t help but feel like this entire kingdom is unsafe for Wren. My horrific nightmares are proof that the king hasn’t forgotten about her. If anything, he’s growing more desperate than ever to apprehend her.
I cannot let that happen.
Strolling through the woods, hoping the fresh air will clear my mind and cast the remnants of my nightmare away, I begin making plans. If Myreth is too dangerous for Wren, then we will leave it behind. Preferably before the next Giving Season. There are other lands beyond ours, and they must be better than this. At the very least, they’ll distance us from my father.
