CHAPTER EIGHT

There was no sign of Oliver when I arrived at our dreamscape.

I scanned the horizon, searching for his easel. A breeze stirred the ends of my hair. In the distance, the door to the house was wide open, like a beckoning hand. I snatched up the gown and started to run, but quickly realized that I’d brought my wounds into the dream—the lash marks throbbed. My pace slowed to a stiff walk. The tall grass tickled my knees and butterflies launched into the air, the picture of serenity. With every step, it became easier to leave reality behind.

At the threshold, I paused. The lamps were off, leaving only natural light. Oliver had his back to me. His hair glowed in the dusk. He’d set his easel up in front of the window, and the floor around his feet was littered with crushed flowers, bowls of paint, unused brushes. In the corner, there was an old record player. The familiar notes of “Moon River” drifted through the sun-dappled air—somehow Oliver had developed a taste for older music. I preferred the record player simply for the crackling sound it made when the disc had finished; it was oddly soothing.

I could have stood there for hours. Muscles shifted beneath Oliver’s shirt as he moved the brush up and down. On the canvas, an image was just beginning to come together, a gentle union of grays and whites. A cloud-filled sky, maybe, or the hills shrouded in mist. I longed to watch some more, but the fading sunlight reminded me that time was against us. Reluctantly I moved forward. The floorboards creaked beneath my weight, and Oliver turned. At the sight of me, he frowned and set his paintbrush down. “What’s wrong? What are you wearing?”

My first instinct was to rush into his arms. Just as I started to, I remembered Collith. My mind flashed back to that shadowy ceremony in the woods, to the whispered words we’d exchanged. I promise to be faithful.

The faerie may have betrayed me, but that didn’t negate my vows; Dad’s teachings ran deep as ancient tree roots. My throat swelled with remorse and regret. I stood there, clenching and unclenching my fists. Oliver closed the distance between us in two long strides. He bent to kiss me, but I turned my face away. His brows drew together. “Fortuna?”

I didn’t want to tell him. I couldn’t tell him. Feeling like a coward, I mustered a weak smile. “I need to get out of this dress.”

Oliver appraised me. Whatever he saw made him decide not to press the matter. For now, at least. He turned to clear away his supplies. After a moment, I moved to the dresser, trying not to show how much every step hurt. The top drawer held clothing that I still had no idea how Oliver had managed to conjure. Whenever I asked, he gave a flippant answer or just smiled mysteriously. I pulled out a pair of leggings and a soft sweater. After a few seconds of struggling, the dress settled onto the floor in a stiff, blood-soaked pile. The sweater settled against my back. I bit my lip to hold back a gasp.

Hoping he hadn’t noticed, I faced Oliver again. He was just straightening, paintbrushes in hand. He dropped them into a color-stained cup and raised his brows. “Now will you tell me what’s going on?” he asked.

I wasn’t even sure where to begin. There was a loud, childish part of me that wanted things to stay as they were. It also wanted to avoid talking about the events of the past twenty-four hours. Stalling, I walked to the other side of the room and ran the tip of my finger along the bookshelf. It was utterly devoid of dust. Did he clean? Or was there no such thing as dust here? There were so many questions I’d never thought to ask.

When I turned around a second time, Oliver was leaning against the edge of the writing desk, still waiting for a response. He wore an expression that told me he would wait all night if he had to. Stop being a coward, I ordered myself. It wasn’t fair to him. But there weren’t any right words or a right way to say them. Haltingly I said, “The faerie came back. His name is Collith, by the way, don’t know if I mentioned that before. Turns out he wasn’t Damon’s kidnapper, but he knew who was. We made a deal. In return for something he wanted, the faerie agreed to help me get my brother back.”

“A deal,” Oliver stated. Icicles hung off the words; he knew he wouldn’t like what I was about to say next. He pushed off the desk and crossed the room. I stayed where I was, arching my neck to look up at him. Our chests nearly touched. The familiar scent of paint surrounded us. Oliver bit out the question we both knew was coming. “What did he want, Fortuna? What did you do?”

“I married him.”

Silence met my words. Oliver stared at me, his eyes so cold that they burned. Like holding a handful of snow without a glove. Just as I opened my mouth again, he stepped away. I made a strangled sound and grabbed at him, but he evaded the touch. Like normal children, then teenagers, we’d had our share of fights. In all our years of friendship, though, he had never pulled away from me.

Oliver sat on the stool and faced his painting. A single ray of sunlight remained, and it reached through the window, settling onto my friend. He didn’t seem to notice or care. The line of his shoulders was tense and hard. As I stared at him, sorrow fluttered in my chest like a butterfly caught in a jar. The significance of what we’d lost was obvious to both of us. I swallowed. “I’m sorry that I’ve caused you pain. But I’m not sorry for doing everything in my power to save Damon.”

I waited. When he still didn’t spare me a glance, I nodded and turned toward the door. Seconds later, Oliver’s voice stopped me. “Fortuna, you’re bleeding. What—” The floor creaked. Before I could react, he was there, lifting my shirt. I heard a sharp intake. I’d stopped, but I didn’t turn. It felt like I was seconds away from cracking.

Outside, a bird began to sing. I kept my eyes on the doorway, hoping for a glimpse of it. “Collith brought me to the Unseelie Court,” I said distantly. The memory of what happened in the throne room hovered, creeping closer, but I kept it at bay. “His people gave me an enthusiastic welcome.”

“We need to clean these,” I heard Oliver say. He took my hand.

I sighed as we walked toward the bed. “You know nothing you do here will have an effect after I wake.”

“Then shut up and let me do this for my own sanity.” He gently pushed down on my shoulders. Even that caused discomfort. Once I was sitting, Oliver strode to the bathroom. The faucet squeaked. He returned with a damp washcloth and a small tube. Despite how angry he’d been only seconds ago, his touch was gentle. He lifted the sweater again and began to dab with the washcloth. It took all my willpower not to jerk away. To distract myself, I read the label on the tube. Oliver hadn’t opened it yet, but I knew he would in a few minutes.

“Why do you have antibiotic cream?” I asked through my teeth.

“I didn’t until thirty seconds ago.”

I was about to ask him how he knew what antibiotic cream was. Then I remembered. Everything I knew, he knew. Because he’s not real, that inner voice whispered.

No. That was something else I didn’t want to think about now. In search of another distraction, I looked over my shoulder to see what Oliver was doing. There was a mirror on the wall opposite the bed. What I saw almost made me gasp.

My back was unrecognizable.

The skin that wasn’t marred by cuts and welts was blue and black, surrounded by yellow swellings. I would bear the scars for the rest of my life. I blinked rapidly and the reflection staring back at me blurred.

The mirror also brought someone else to mind. “He wouldn’t come back with me,” I whispered, watching my mouth form the words.

Oliver’s hand stilled. “Damon?”

Hearing his name out loud was my undoing. I nodded, trying to keep the tears away yet again, but it was no use. Suddenly every second of pain and terror washed over me. Damon’s refusal to leave, the encounter with Jassin in the passageway, being whipped, finding myself in yet another cage. Mute sobs shook my body. Oliver instantly put the washcloth down and tugged me back into his arms.

Being careful not to touch my injuries, he leaned back so his spine was against the headboard. As I wept, he rocked me back and forth. It should’ve been humiliating or strange. Instead, the motion was calming. My sobbing began to slow. Unconsciousness returned to claim me, but the darkness was only a reminder of what awaited in the real world. I came awake with a violent gasp.

I bunched Oliver’s shirt in my fists and said frantically, “There’s too many of them. They’re stronger than me, Ollie. I can’t win.” The admission left a sour taste in my mouth.

There were gaps in his knowledge—I’d barely told him anything—but Oliver didn’t falter. He calmly tucked a wild curl behind my ear. “Sometimes it’s not about being stronger. It’s about being smarter,” he told me.

“You don’t understand. They’ve been alive for millennia.” “Which means they’ve gotten complacent,” he countered. “Be patient. Learn their weaknesses.”

It was difficult to imagine retaliation when my broken body was trapped in a cell. Even so, his words helped. It meant that some part of me was still hopeful, still clinging to strength. I wiped the tears off my cheeks and leaned back to see Oliver’s face better. “When did you become so devious?” I asked, only partly joking.

At this, Oliver’s eyes dimmed. He looked away, toward the window. The sun was gone, leaving only moonlight and shadows in its wake. “You created me. I am whatever you need me to be,” he murmured.

I knew I wasn’t imagining the faint touch of bitterness in his voice. Guilt curled in my stomach like a venomous snake. I cupped his cheek and turned him back to me. “Thank you,” I said, letting everything I felt surge into the open. It went against all my instincts, but I fought them. For him.

It was worth it. A glorious smile stretched across his face, and just like that, Oliver was the person I’d always known. He kissed the top of my head, slow and tender. “Just remember one thing, okay? You’re Fortuna Sworn, baby.”

Now I laughed, a watery sound. Oliver’s grip tightened, obvious affection in his expression, and he looked up. After a moment, I followed his gaze. The roof came apart, boards and shingles flying off into the night, until there was nothing between us and sky. One by one, the lights far above us started to fall. It was a trick Oliver had performed many times, but I never tired of it.

Something about tonight was different, though. I didn’t care about what was happening overhead; Oliver watched the stars and I found myself watching him. Minutes ticked by, and the pain in my back was hardly noticeable anymore. Whether it was Oliver’s doing—another ability he’d kept hidden from me—or because I was more absorbed in admiring him, I didn’t know. As more time passed, tears glistened on his cheeks. Because of me, I knew. Because of the choice I’d made. And it hadn’t been him.

I closed my eyes and pretended not to notice.

A sound. Hushed. Familiar.

Voices, I thought. They came from a distance, like one of those faraway stars. I wasn’t fully conscious yet and I resisted the pull. I didn’t want to return to that cell, to that broken body. But the voices drew closer. The blend of sound became words. “ … has already treated her,” someone was whispering.

“Impossible,” another responded. “No one has been down here but the guard.”

“See for yourself. The wounds are cleaned and covered in a salve of some kind.”

My back was to them. Before I could decide whether to reveal I was awake, one of the speakers touched a lash mark. My eyes snapped open and I let out an involuntary gasp. I recoiled from the shadowy figures, ignoring the lightning bolts that burned through me at the movement. I slammed into the hard, wet wall.

“Who are you?” I demanded. Or tried to, anyway; the question was tremulous and faint. Their faces were obscured by darkness. One squatted nearby and one stood in the doorway. The faerie who’d touched me didn’t respond, but the other did. I recognized his voice instantly. “This is Zara,” Collith said. “She can’t completely heal you, or they’ll suspect her involvement, but she’s here to relieve some of the pain. I apologize for your time down here; the guards weren’t aware you had a room. They didn’t know where else to take you. I’ve corrected this oversight.”

He was calling my imprisonment an … oversight?

Rage gripped my throat and I didn’t respond. Zara fiddled with something and there was a faint squeaking sound. Then, a moment later, a lantern came to life and illuminated the small space around us. I made a point of fixing my gaze on the female. The light revealed the curve of her cheek and long, dark eyelashes. She wore a beige abaya and a matching hijab. This faintly surprised me; I hadn’t known fae to have the Islamic faith.

As the two of them waited for me to say something, the silence was so prominent it felt like another presence in the room. “Who helped you?” Zara asked when it became too long.

“Helped me? Are you kidding? I have no idea what you’re—” Realization roared through me and tore everything apart. In my mind’s eye, I saw the house and the stars. The antibiotic cream in Oliver’s hand. It couldn’t be. Whatever he did in our dream-scape was confined there. That’s how it had always been. How it always would be. Someone else must’ve snuck into the cell and helped me. Damon or Laurie, most likely.

“You know something,” the female commented. With a start, I comprehended that I’d said something out loud.

My defenses rose. I looked directly at her and sneered. A spark of my old self flickered. “You’ve wasted your time. I don’t want or need your help.”

There was a pause, and I felt the two of them considering me. Then, breaking our stare, Zara glanced toward Collith. He gave a barely perceptible nod. She stepped past him and left us. Her footsteps echoed off the walls. Door hinges squealed. It slammed shut.

Leaving me and Collith alone.

I didn’t look at him. I didn’t speak to him. But the King of the Unseelie Court was no fool; he knew questions were ricocheting off the inside of my skull. He stepped closer. I could see his boot in my peripheral vision. “I know I owe you several apologies. Firstly, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I was,” he said quietly, as though someone might be listening, even down here. Somehow I didn’t think the faerie in the cell next to mine counted. “I wish I had.”

Eat shit and die, I wanted to say. Instead, entirely different words left my mouth. “Why didn’t you?” I asked, hating how betrayed it sounded.

Collith didn’t hesitate. “Cowardice,” he answered bluntly. He still hadn’t moved, but there was such a wealth of feeling in his voice, it felt like he was right there. “I thought if you knew the extent of how much your life would change, being my mate, you wouldn’t agree to it.”

“Now we’ll never know. You didn’t let me make that choice for myself.”

I felt his eyes on me. “I know.”

Somewhere in this dark place, a single drop of water fell. It made a hollow, lingering sound. As it faded, I finally turned to Collith. Though I couldn’t see his expression, I imagined it. That stoic, regal look from the day before while my screams rang through the throne room. “There’s so much I don’t understand,” I said at last. “Why couldn’t you take Damon from Jassin? Why are you hiding our marriage from everyone? Why did you let another faerie whip your mate? Shouldn’t an all-powerful king be able to—”

“I’m not all-powerful, Fortuna.” His expression was imploring. When I said nothing, Collith finally approached. He ignored the damp and filth as he knelt beside me. He didn’t dare reach out, but that didn’t stop him from going on. “My position is precarious. History has already proven that ruling with fear leads to discord and treason. When I took the throne, I sought to rule with law and objectivity instead.”

“And how well has that worked for you?” my neighbor called, startling me.

“Quiet,” Collith replied, his voice sharper than I’d ever heard it. The line of his body was rigid. I observed all this thoughtfully, then schooled my features back into its cold expression as he turned in my direction once more. “And I stopped you from announcing who you were—taking your voice—at the tribunal because the fae have long memories. I wanted to introduce you at a moment of our choosing. Not Jassin’s.”

Out of everything he’d just told me, only a small part of it mattered. My heart pounded harder and faster. Menace dripped from every word as I asked, “What law allowed Damon to be kept captive for two years, tortured for so long that his mind broke from the brutality of it?”

And who knew what else Jassin had done to him? The thought made my stomach roll.

“Some traditions are ancient. Like the black market, for instance. If I tried to change them, I would have an uprising before I could blink. The fae are fond of their slaves and playthings.” Collith’s hand, which had been resting on his knee, became a fist. His ring glinted in the light, and I realized, then, that it was yet another thing I knew nothing about. “Why do you think I sought you out, Fortuna? I am just as dismayed as you are by the things happening here. My feeble efforts to keep them occupied—carving doors, placing stones in the ground— aren’t enough. I want to make a change. My power alone isn’t enough to hold them at bay.”

“I thought you didn’t want to rule with fear,” I retorted.

“That’s still true. I simply want to survive the backlash when I create the kingdom I see in my dreams.”

His expression was so earnest. If we weren’t surrounded by damp air, if there weren’t twinges of pain with each breath I took, it would be easy to believe him. Which made me even angrier. Before I could reply with something else thoughtless and furious, Oliver’s voice stopped me. Sometimes it’s not about being stronger. It’s about being smarter. I swallowed the razor-edged words in my throat and studied Collith’s face instead, the sharp lines and smooth planes. One of our first conversations echoed through my memory.

What do you want?

You.

He’d made it no secret. But that was before he’d shattered any fragile hope or possibility between us. This creature had no chance with me.

He didn’t need to know that, though.

“Let’s see it,” I said. Collith frowned with obvious confusion, and I made an impatient gesture. The movement sent yet another jolt of pain through my back. “You crave my trust so badly; show me a glimpse of this supposed dream.”

His eyes cleared. “There are things in my head that you wouldn’t—”

“You trade in edicts and secrets; mine is nightmares and terror. Nothing I see will give me a second’s pause, faerie.” I couldn’t hide my disdain.

“Will you ever say my name again?” Collith whispered, looking pained.

I didn’t grace this with a response. That distant dripping continued while I waited for his decision. Within seconds Collith shifted closer and inclined his head. At first, I wasn’t sure what the gesture meant. When he didn’t move, I realized he meant for me to touch him. Hesitantly, I reached up. My fingers settled on his temples in the lightest of contacts. I’d never been so deliberate in searching through someone’s psyche.

I tried not to remember the last time I’d put my hands on him, but images slipped through the cracks of my mental wall. Ridges of bark. Light filtering through treetops. Collith’s silky hair between my fingers. Now something stirred in me, low and hot. I gritted my teeth and pushed on.

There was a moment of slight resistance, but this time, Collith let me inside.

Going into someone else’s mind usually felt like being underwater. Everything was slower, thicker, colder. But this time was entirely different. I stood in Collith’s consciousness and absorbed the sensation of it. Where before there had been blankness, a careful nothingness, there was now hints of more. A subtle, sweet taste. Movement and light. I frowned and delved deeper. I felt Collith flinch, but he still offered no resistance.

At last, I found something. Not his fears, but exactly what he intended for me to see—his dreams. I stood on a hill, surrounded by blue sky and green grass. The colors and details were more vivid than any other I’d experienced. Nearby, nestled beneath some shade, a group of faeries sat around a picnic table. Laughter rang through the air. I crept closer, curious in spite of myself. The faeries were making no effort to hide their pointed ears while a pair of mortal children flew a kite a few yards away. There was no sign of dirt or darkness. Instead, it was clear his people lived above, among humankind.

There was a line of trees behind them. The foliage and shadow were disrupted by a round opening, a tunnel of sorts that traveled through. I knew Collith was guiding me, trying to influence where I went next. I decided to play along … for now. I left the merry scene behind and walked toward the opening.

Inside, there was nothing sinister or dark about the path; birdsong filled the air and a fragrant breeze slipped past. Since I didn’t want to be here any longer than necessary, I didn’t linger to admire the way sunlight filtered through the canopy above.

Up ahead, the tunnel ended in darkness. The air cooled. Wary of what I would find—the possibility of Oliver’s efforts following me in the real world had changed everything—I slowed. The dirt beneath my feet became ice. I stepped into the open and realized why it was so cold.

Snow.

It floated down serenely, like nothing bad existed in the world. I was on a residential street, and the trees had given way to stars. Streetlights appeared every few feet, making everything soft and glowing. The houses weren’t grand, but bright windows gave the neighborhood a welcoming feel. My boots crunched in the snow. I looked left and right, catching snapshots of scenes. Faeries were everywhere. They sat around Christmas trees and dinner tables. All of them wore modern clothing. I kept expecting to see some kind of violence, or a glimpse of their slaves, but there was nothing. Nothing but this bizarre contentedness and sense of belonging. This was Collith’s hope for his people? I wanted to laugh or call him every kind of fool. For some reason, though, I couldn’t.

Collith led me on. The road ended eventually, transforming into more beautiful places inhabited by the Fair Folk. They danced at weddings. They lay on beaches. They climbed mountains. All the while, they wore no glamour. There was no tension between races and no fear from humans. Everyone lived in unity.

But the beautiful dreams weren’t all I had access to.

In one of them, I noticed a ripple in the air. Something was at the back of Collith’s mind, so powerful that it was affecting everything else, and my instincts were drawn to it. I reached toward the disturbance. It had an old and worn feeling, like a picture that had been handled countless times. A memory.

Collith was holding it back, trying to hide this piece of his past, but it was useless to lock the door once someone had already entered. Now I put my arm into the ripple. Collith’s panic made the ground tremble. Thunder sounded in the distance. I felt him try to throw me out, banish me from his mind entirely. Too late, I thought with vicious satisfaction. Smiling, I stepped closer.

“No!” Collith’s voice cried from the heavens. It followed me through to the other side.

My foot landed on something soft and plush. A rug. I pulled free from the gap in Collith’s consciousness, completely leaving the dream behind for reality. The disturbance in the wall solidified an instant later. I straightened and looked around, eager to see what Collith had been so desperate to keep a secret. My eyes adjusted to the abrupt change in lighting and sound. Compared to the din of moments before, the sudden silence was also jarring.

The female was the first thing to catch my attention. She lay in an enormous bed, one bare breast peeking out from the velvet covers. She had tumbling red hair and a sly smile. Oh, how Collith loved her. It filled the air, more powerful than freshly-sprayed perfume. He rested beside her, also naked, looking at her with tenderness in his eyes. The silky sheets were rumpled and slightly damp with sweat.

Just as it had been with the picnickers, neither of them seemed aware of my presence. They were wholly immersed in each other, and as I watched them, I felt a pang of something sharp and undefined. The female’s name formed on Collith’s lips like a song. “Viessa …”

Just as she opened her lovely mouth to reply, an invisible force struck me in the chest. Air left my lungs in a whoosh, and I was hurled backward.

I crashed through the wall and plummeted into unending darkness.