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“She won’t stop,” Rhoan said, as if reading my mind. “You heard it yourself. The Unseelie are still terrorizing what’s left of your court. They won’t let up. There will be no peace for your court until she’s gone.”
Guilt turned into a heavy stone in the pit of my fallen stomach. I wrapped my arms around myself and bent, curling into a ball. Rhoan put his hand on my back, like that would help.
“You’re not alone,” he said.
The image of Rhoan, hanging in Beryl’s court like a morbid Halloween decoration, barely hanging onto life, filled my mind. I recoiled and gagged. That was worse than suffering by myself. I’d rather do this on my own than let anyone get hurt again.
I’d survived this far. There was a lot that I’d learned along the way. For instance, I could handle a large threshold of pain. If anyone had to do this, it was me.
I just…needed to find a way.
* * *
The dreams came backthat night. There was no rest to be had. In my dreams, I ran from Beryl. No matter what corner I turned, she was there. She was ready and waiting like a spider leading me into a trap.
I’d lost count of the number of times I died in those dreams. Each time, I thought I would wake. I thought I’d come to, gasping and covered in sweat. Instead, I fell into another dream that would end in blood and pain.
Breathless, I rounded one last corner. Maybe this would be it. Maybe I would be able to escape her and run free once and for all…
Beryl’s long, bony fingers closed around my jaw. She grinned wildly down at me as she lifted me from the ground. My feet swung as I tried to find purchase again. I scrabbled, trying to pry her fingers away from my face.
“Cerridwen!” Rhoan shouted in the distance.
Rhoan was coming to my aid. He was going to get caught in this and get hurt. I couldn’t let that happen. He’d suffered enough. If I ended this quickly, then he would have no reason to stay. He would be able to run and save his own skin.
I unleashed my arcana. It burst free in all directions. Plant life unfurled like the tight petals of a flower. Thick tree roots rose from the ground behind Beryl. I knew I might hurt myself, but that was a price I was willing to pay.
“Cerri! Wake up! You’re having a nightmare.” Rhoan’s voice echoed as if trying to find his way through alleys.
That’s right. This was another dream.
Rhoan wasn’t here.
Was he?
“That’s right. Wake up for me, Princess. You’re safe here.” Rhoan’s warm hand replaced Beryl’s cold touch on my face.
My eyes snapped open. I didn’t gasp. In fact, I couldn’t breathe. Not because my lungs refused to, but because I was afraid of what might happen if I moved.
I saw that the burst of arcana in my dream had been reflected in real life. Wooden roots stretched from the panels in the living room and aimed sharp points at Rhoan’s back. I reached up to pull him closer to me and felt the trickle of something warm along his ribs.
With my heart in my throat, I apologized. My voice was quiet in the dark. I couldn’t quite bring myself to speak any louder. Forehead against Rhoan’s chest, I pushed back the roots with my arcana. I could feel the pointed tips pulling free of his flesh, and it twisted my heart.
I muttered a curse under my breath and wound my arms around Rhoan’s torso. He lowered himself just enough so that his weight pressed comfortably against my body. I sighed and savored his presence, his broad shoulders covering me. Here, I could hide in safety.
The dreams—the nightmares could not find me here, not when Rhoan held me. He lowered his forehead to my shoulder. His hair brushed against my cheek like a knuckle graze that I wanted to lean into. I couldn’t have this man, but I could pretend for the night that he was mine to love.
He was mine to keep safe, but not mine to love, and it was starting to pain me. I needed to make that potion. If he kept doing this for me, kept risking his own safety to wake me from nightmares, I would fall so hard only to shatter later.
My arcana rose and swelled in the palms of my hands. Pressed flat against his back, my hands turned warm. My arcana with the potential for limitless life slid into him. His breath hitched and he arched into me as my magic healed the wounds in his back.
Breath ragged, he asked, “Have you always been able to do that? Was the cum potion a farce?”
I laughed into his chest.
“I’m serious here. You pulled a prank on me that day, didn’t you? I mean, I don’t blame you, but I kind of was dying in that moment.”
“I’m not used to using raw arcana,” I explained. “I’ve only done this once or twice before. So…I’m…it’s…”
