Page 53 of Veil of Night & Flames

I tell myself I should just pop over to the Nightmare Realm and have it out with him.

But I won’t. Because I know too damn well that being near him is dangerous. Not because he’d hurt me, but because I want him. And that will inevitably lead to pain.

I flip the pillow again, flop down, and sigh.

And catch the faintest scent of smoke and ash.

A shiver runs through me. Could it be…?

But no. That makes no sense. Probably something outside. After all, the window’s cracked open.

Except it isn’t.

I closed it before getting into bed. And it’s not just the scent I’ve caught—there’s also a light breeze.

I sit up. And the closet door opposite the foot of my bed swings open a tiny bit. Then a bit more. Then more after that.

The inside of the closet is dark, but as I watch, it turns a muted shade of orange. And there—beyond where the back of the closet should be—is an endless stretch of sand.

My breath hitches, and I don’t move for a long second. Then I slide out of bed. My bare feet hit the cool floor, and I move to the foot of the bed and pull the closet door the rest of the way open.

He’s standing in the sand a few feet behind where my clothes hang, his coat of shadows fluttering in some impossible breeze.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t step forward. He just looks at me and slowly smiles.

The closet’s hinges creak in the silence.

“Chase is going to go ape-shit. You promised.”

“I promised to stay out of the Real.”

“You’re in my closet. This is about as real as it gets.”

“I’m not in the Real,” he says. “I’m in a liminal space. Neither the Nightmare Realm nor the Real.”

“Oh.” I frown. I’m not sure what to say to that. “But it’s my closet.”

“So it appears. But while the closet may be yours, the sand is mine. And it is in my Realm.”

“That is really splitting hairs.”

“I did not promise not to split hairs.”

I stare at him. He stares back.

After a moment, his lips twitch. “If you want me to go, I will.”

He means it. I can see that. The thing is, I don’t want him to leave. I was completely mortified by those horrible, violent executions, and yet I still want him. Just like I want Chase. Which, I guess, makes me a greedy little bitch without a clue how to choose one over the other.

Maybe pick the one who didn’t execute six people and doesn’t plan to set mares loose in your backyard…

I shove the thoughts away, then do nothing. I just stand there at the foot of my bed looking at my betrothed in my closet beach and wondering—as I so often do—how this is my life.

“Step through,” he says quietly. “You made no vow to ignore me if I managed to find a loophole.”

I have to laugh. He’s right about that.

I take a quick glance over my shoulder, because I really should just slide under the covers and sleep. But of course that’s not happening, so I do what Adric knew I’d do—I step into the closet, push past my shirts and favorite hoodie, and then step out onto genuine sand as Adric extends his hand to mine.