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He nodded. “I saw it. All of it. You taking my place. Succeeding in the trial. And I understood why. Of course, I did. It was so simple once I had seen it. So easy to understand why the throne wasn’t supposed to be mine in the first place.”
“Why?”
“No one who likes power should ever have it, Morgan,” he said simply.
My breath caught in my throat. “You set this whole thing up. This dream—when did you have it?”
He looked back at me steadily. “Just before the first trial.”
I felt dizzy with shock. “You knew back then. And you didn’t tell me. You told me my dreams were false. Meanwhile, you were trusting your own? Do you know how fucked up that is, Draven?”
He winced. “I’ve always had the true dreaming. I couldn’t believe you were receiving it, too. It seemed too cruel to think that was the only power of mine you might have gained. At first, when this dream came, I didn’t trust it either. Morgan, I’ve been blocking them for so long. This gift... It’s more a nightmare than a blessing.”
“How long have you had them?”
“Since I was a child,” he said. “I couldn’t control them. Eventually my father found out. He used the dreams however he could, when he could get me to tell him about them. When Tabar... When he did what he did, I had a dream about it. Nodori had just delivered our baby. I was resting in another room. I woke up in a cold sweat, then raced to Nodori’s bedchamber. But I was too late.”
He looked at me. “Never, not once, have these dreams been a gift before now. I used to think I was cursed. I trained myself to ignore them. For years, I thought I had managed to block them. Then...” He stopped.
“Then?”
“Then they started coming back.”
I stared at him. “Just how long have you been dreaming about me for, Draven?”
He glanced away. “I’ve always known there would be a crown on your head, one way or another, Morgan.”
Before now, he had said. They had never been a giftbefore now.
“Is this your plan for peace?” I demanded. “Because I’m no ruler. These aren’t my people. You’re trying to give your throne to a half-fae girl from another continent and you really think they’re going to accept...”
“Not half-fae,” Draven cut in.
I shook my head in confusion. “What?”
“You’re not half-fae. Not anymore. If you ever were, which I highly doubt.”
“What are you talking about?” But I already had an inkling he understood.
“Look at yourself, Morgan. Look at those markings on your arms. What exactly do you think those are?”
I gritted my teeth. “I don’t know. But you’ve always seemed to have some idea. So why don’t you tell me?”
He hesitated briefly, then answered. “You’re imbued with magic, Morgan. Someone poured everything they had into shaping you this way. Someone powerful.”
I gaped at him. “Who?”
“I think you know that better than I.”
“You told me not to trust my dreams. But they’ve all been real, haven’t they? What did you do to me, Draven? The dreams, the claws.” I raised my hand, feeling a gentle prickling sensation, like a cascade of tiny needles. Slowly, sleek curves extended, glinting in the light. “What am I? You?”
Draven shook his head. “Not me, no. But you’re a part of me. Just as I’m a part of you.”
“Did you know this was going to happen? When you saved me?”
“I knew there was a chance. There was also a chance you’d simply... die.”
“Maybe it would have been better if I had,” I said before I could stop myself. “Or you could have leached my powers away, taking them for yourself, leaving me withered like Beks. Was that another possibility? Did you consider it?”
