We’re in the upstairs bedroom that we shared before Uncle Devlin died, and I wipe away her tears as she cries. She’s missing Mother tonight. I am too, but my grief will only intensify hers, so I lock it up tight and brush her chestnut hair from her eyes.
“I miss her,” Jas says on a shaky sob.
“I bet she misses us too,” I whisper. “So much that she’s planning a way to come get us.”
Jas sniffles. “Tell me a story?”
I sweep her hair from her face and weave a story of faerie castles and elven royalty. The story comes, and I feel like it’s important, but it’s almost like I’m watching myself from a distance. I can’t make out my own words. They’re as fuzzy as a murmur from another room.
Jas grips my hand, and I know I’ve gotten to an exciting part. “Now what?” she asks.
“The cruel king waits for the day the princess of shadows will come to his castle.” I’d forgotten this tale—one our mother told us only once, the night before she left for Faerie. “The false king knew she could command the shadows, but he didn’t know that her big heart and her endless love would cost him his throne.”
Jasalyn closes her eyes, and her face softens with sleep. I don’t know if she’s dreaming or half awake when she says, “The prince will help you find me.”
I blink away from her to the darkness at the foot of the bed. The silver-eyed male I saw at the ball is there and then gone, flickering like a fading, precious memory.
“Who told you that story?” he asks. He’s more shadow than corporeal.
I sit up and smile at him, oddly comforted by his appearance and my sister’s words. I feel safe here, under the intense gaze of this faerie who is all but a stranger to me. I feel less alone. The prince will help you find me. I climb out of bed and tuck the blankets around Jas. “Our mother told us many stories.”
“Then why do you feel so powerless?”
Suddenly our bedroom becomes the cold, doorless, windowless cell in the evil king’s castle. And I remember. I’m a prisoner. This is a dream. “Because I am.”
Something like anger flashes in those silver eyes, and then I’m standing beneath a vast, starry sky, the moon a comforting beacon over my shoulder.
The silver-eyed faerie fully materializes, as if strengthened by the starlight. His dark curls are pulled back from his face and his brow is creased with worry. “You’re only powerless if you believe you are.” He sneers as he looks me over, and in his eyes I see a reflection of starlight. “We don’t have much time.”
“What?”
“He won’t let you go—he won’t release either of you—until you agree. I’ll help you get her back. Come find me.”
“You’re Unseelie. Why would I want your help? You’re probably working for him.”
His eyes flash. “Never. I swear it on my magic.” He blinks and turns his head. “They’re coming.”
He disappears, and the dark night around me is erased by too-bright light.
“Wake up, Fire Girl.” The command is followed by a dry cackle, and I open my eyes.
A goblin stands in the center of the cell. He grins down at me, his gnarled fingers extended toward my hair, his bulging eyes bright with excitement. But I’m still half in my dreamworld and can barely focus on the creature before me.
Why did I dream of that faerie? He had seemed so real. Why hadn’t I dreamed of Sebastian giving me advice—or Jasalyn? Or anyone I knew?
The goblin offers his hand, pulling me from my thoughts. “The king believes a night’s sleep may have made you change your mind. We go to him now.”
My instinct is to refuse, but what will that accomplish?
Nodding, I take his bony hand. I’m still crouched on the ground when we appear in the throne room again. Unlike last night, the room is empty except for Mordeus, who stands before his throne like he’s been pacing. Despite the bright morning sun pouring in through the windows and the domed glass ceiling, the space seems bigger and colder.
“Has the mortal reconsidered my offer?” King Mordeus asks his goblin, his eyes hard. A ruler who doesn’t tolerate being refused.
My stomach hurts, but I force myself to take one deep breath after another. I don’t trust faeries, and I specifically don’t trust this one, but I do trust my dreams. I swear it on my magic. Did my mother once tell me that a faerie can’t break a promise made on their power? I have to believe that my subconscious pulled this information from my memories for a reason.
I push myself off the floor only to be bound by those invisible chains again. I have to bite my lip to keep from snarling at him. “I have reconsidered.”