Page 121 of Realm of Dreams & Shadows

“The theater,” I whisper. “The moons, the mist, the bats. It’s all for show. For me.”

“It’s what he does best. Finds a person’s entry point, and drills in from there.” He pauses, pulling me to a stop as he looks at me hard. “Remember that.”

“We’re walking,” Kali says, as I nod, then keep moving, following the trail up and up as the ridge rises. We reach the top, and I gasp at the sight, so much more vivid than anything in my dreams.

There, beyond the ridge, the castle we glimpsed earlier rises from the cliff like something straight out of an old black-and-white Dracula movie—towers jagged against the moons, mist curling around the turrets. The walls are dark stone, slick with moisture, and gargoyles hunch along the edges as if they’ve been watching for centuries.

A drawbridge spans a moat, and the stained-glass windows glow faintly from within, flashes of crimson and gold and deep purple, like candlelight trapped behind jeweled glass. The whole place hums with energy—not the wild kind I’ve felt before, but something leashed. Controlled. As if the entire castle has been waiting for us.

The moat carves a black ring around the base, the water oil-slick and motionless until something beneath disturbs it. That’s when the top layer shivers, sending slow ripples that catch shards of moonlight. Shapes move beneath the surface. Large creatures, and as I watch, the hair at the back of my neck prickles.

We wait as the drawbridge lowers, the old wood and iron chains groaning in rich, theatrical creaks. We’re halfway across when I realize I can’t hold the words back any longer. “You said I’d have proof that my uncle’s alive.”

Kali doesn’t turn. “You will.”

“I want it now.”

“Want is not need.”

“I need it.” My voice scrapes out rough. “Or I stop walking.”

Ahead of us, the wolves stop and turn, snarls low in their throats, and Whistler’s blood. On their jowls. Chase’s fingers tense against mine, and I know that he’s thinking of his friend too.

I keep my attention on Kali. I’m ready to pay for my bluff in blood if need be. Ready to fight and try to avenge Whistler. To try and break free to find my uncle.

Chase, I know, is ready too. Even injured, he will always fight for and with me.

I know all that, and I stand straight, saying nothing and trying desperately to show no fear.

Kali stops three steps from the far side. She tips her head as if listening, then flicks her fingers once. The huge double doors shudder and part with a sigh, letting a spill of candlelight wash over the threshold. The scent hits me—smoke and old stone and warm embers.

“Inside,” she says.

I stay put.

She cocks her head. “You are a stubborn little bitch. The proof you seek is right inside those doors.”

Since I’ve used up my quota of terrifying defiance, I glance at Chase, nod, and start walking again. We follow Kali through the massive doors into what I’m pretty sure is officially called a Great Hall, but which I think of as a Really Big Entryway.

Marble columns fill the area in distinct lines. And the illumination comes from dozens of torches mounted on stone walls. The flames writhe like lovers, twisting and overlapping and throwing shadows through the room. There are carvings and stained glass on the walls, and names and etchings in the tile. It looks like every picture I’ve seen of a castle…and also utterly unique.

I drag my fingers over the wall, and the mortar hums under my skin, subtle as a heartbeat, as if the castle itself is alive.

Maybe it is.

Kali glides forward, and we move with her, the wolves acting like escorts on either side. Shadows peel off and join us, and I try to look everywhere at once, my eyes landing on the jumble of things that seem both too graceful for this place or too mundane. The curve of a balcony rail, the gleam of a velvet runner, the whisper of bats passing through narrow slits and threading into the night.

When we reach the middle of the hall, Kali stops beside a pool set into the flagstone. The water ripples, then goes glassy smooth. Another scrying pool.

“Look,” she says.

As I peer at the water, the image sharpens into Finn sitting in a book-filled room. A fire flickers behind a grate, and he looks content, deep in an overstuffed armchair, his reading glasses perched on his nose. He turns a page, then takes a sip of what looks like tea, then turns his attention back to the book.

Kali drags her fingers through the water, and the image goes dark. “You see? Comfortable.”

“Captive.” My retort comes out flat.

Her lips twitch in a quick, predatory grin. “That was never in dispute.” She stands, nods, then continues walking.