House of Curses, page 8
“Oh good. You leashed the beast?”
Kerrigan winced slightly at the assessment. Cleora and the world she lived in acted as if dragons were mindless monsters to be used like horses. The very idea infuriated Kerrigan. She had adjusted her crux bond with her intention to make it a two-way bond rather than a leash, as Cleora had described.
“Well, my dragon is not just a beast,” she said softly.
She waved her hand. “I am not here to argue dragons with you. My brother works with dragons, and they have killed many of his fellows. Your dragons might be different, but I would still be wary.”
Kerrigan bit her lip. “My dragon, Tieran, actually requested to cross to the spirit plane and meet you.”
Color drained from Cleora’s face. “A beast in the spirit?”
“Well, in our world, dragons are known for their spirit abilities. They help Fae cross to the spirit plane. Surely, you’ve encountered them.”
“No. I have only met you, and the dragon wants to meet me?”
“Yes. His name is Tieran. Would you be okay with that?”
Cleora looked half-ready to pass out. “And you believe it safe?”
Kerrigan laughed. “Of course. I ride Tieran every day. We’re partners.”
“Well, it’s not done, but if you can guarantee safety, I would be interested in meeting a dragon, if they are as you describe them. My brother will never believe me.”
Kerrigan breathed a sigh of relief. Working with Tieran was always better than working alone. “Thank you. He will be pleased.”
“It is odd to consider that a dragon has feelings,” she said with a shrug. “But that is not our purpose today. We have much to cover since we are only meeting one night a month.”
“We could meet more often.” Kerrigan’s voice hitched with hope. How much more could she learn if they met even weekly? But the look on Cleora’s face dashed that hope.
She frowned. “No, this is as much time as I can spare. Training you on the plane is draining for me.”
Kerrigan nodded, trying not to let her frustration show. “Okay.”
“Let’s begin then. In my advanced theoretical casting classes, we follow the five tenets of casting,” Cleora explained, back in her element. “Unfortunately, few students have more than a wisp of spiritual magic between them, and so much of what I will teach you is purely theoretical. Surely, the emperor and his offspring could work advanced castings, but they are trained with private tutors, not at the university.”
“But you can do them?”
“Lords, I wish that I could,” she said with a sharp smile. “I can do some of the castings. We’ll go through one at each of our sessions and see how far we can get through the workings. Does that sound satisfactory?”
Kerrigan nodded. “What’s after the tenets? Will there be more material?”
Cleora held a hand up. “The doctoral program is a minimum of five years of study. I have enough to teach you for the rest of your long life.”
“Oh,” she said, her mouth popping open. “What is a doctoral program?”
“Your little world is quite backward, isn’t it? It’s a degree of study at our university, a school for learning more advanced workings.” Cleora nodded approvingly as Kerrigan took it all in. “Now, the five basic tenets of theoretical castings are the spirit plane, dreamwalking, visions, illusions, and energy.”
Kerrigan’s eyes widened at the list. Well, she could already tick off the spirit plane, visions, and energy as part of her abilities.
“I say these are the basic tenets, but that does not mean that they are easy. In fact, each one is more difficult as you work your way through the tenets. The spirit plane, where we are currently, is the easiest, but spirit plane manipulation is more difficult, especially if you are fighting for control of the plane.”
“Like conjuring the table and chairs.”
“Yes. Or when I pulled you down here from the clouds at our first meeting. Try to do something simple—change your clothing.”
Kerrigan focused on the simple black pants and shirt she was wearing. She brought to memory the black-and-silver dress she had worn to the Geivhrea celebration this winter. It was spectacular with a plunging neckline, covered by a glittery mesh that also worked its way down her arms and tied at her wrists. The skirts shimmered to almost liquid silver. She and Fordham had walked into Belcourt together as a matched set, clad in the colors of the House of Shadows, before it all fell apart.
The dress materialized on her figure, and she beamed. “I did it.”
“Yes, and that is quite a dress,” Cleora said with wide eyes.
“It was for a winter holiday.” She ran her hands down the sleeves.
“If I hadn’t already known you were from another world, I would have with that attire.”
Kerrigan laughed, and then a second later, the dress vanished, and her black pants returned. “What?”
“The plane belongs to whoever is the strongest in manipulation. At present, that is me. If you want your dress back, then you have to fight me to regain it. Or else you will always be subject to another’s whim.”
Kerrigan concentrated, at first feeling nothing. Then, she fought harder for the image of that dress. The last dress she had worn for Fordham when he still loved her completely, without fear. It was that emotion that made her feel the seam of Cleora’s working. She had no idea how to unravel it and went for blunt force instead. She imagined a knife in her mind and ripped it down the working. The thing popped like a bubble, and her dress appeared again.
Cleora gasped and rocked back in her chair. Her eyes were wide. She clutched her chest, as if Kerrigan had actually used the knife.
“Oh gods, did I hurt you?”
“No,” Cleora said after a minute. She eyed Kerrigan suspiciously. “How did you know how to break the working?”
“I didn’t. I just sort of attacked it.”
Cleora was silent as she assessed Kerrigan. “That was quite advanced for having never done that before.”
“I’m pretty good with knives.”
She chuckled. “I see. There are more subtle means to achieve what you just did, but your way was most effective.”
“Subtly isn’t my specialty,” she admitted.
“No, I could see that.” Cleora cleared her throat. “Well, we’ll leave that for now. You have the basics down. I would continue to work on developing your ability to control the plane in my absence … maybe with this dragon of yours.”
“Tieran would like that.”
Cleora looked faintly sick at the thought, but she pressed on. “We’ll move on from spirit plane manipulation then. The second tenet is dreamwalking. What do you know of it?”
Kerrigan shook her head. “Nothing. Though I’ve had prophetic dreams before.”
Cleora raised her eyebrows. “Visions?”
“Yes.”
She pursed her lips. “I want to hear more about these visions, but we’ll have to wait until next time. The emperor knows, bless him, that it’s impossible for me to teach the tenets out of order. Dreamwalking is dream manipulation. Have you ever done something like that before?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Good. It’s dangerous without proper training.”
She was finding that everything was dangerous without proper training, and Kerrigan had just been fumbling around in the dark with this stuff since her visions manifested.
“There are two types of walking. The first is pulling someone into a dream, and the other is falling into someone else’s dreams. Entering a person’s dream is easier but more dangerous, and pulling someone into a dream is harder but safer for you.”
“And … how do I do that?”
“It’s a lot like entering the spirit plane with someone else. Have you ever done that before?”
“Yes,” Kerrigan admitted. “It wasn’t too difficult.”
She’d had one spirit trainer before Cleora. Mistress Zahina had been the daughter of the last spiritcaster in Alandria. She had been the one to show her how to safely enter and exit the plane. Though when she realized exactly what Kerrigan was, she had dropped their training. Only another spiritcaster could properly train her.
“That’s good. The same principle applies, but instead of thinking out of your body, you think into the mind.”
Kerrigan’s eyes widened. “You can enter people’s minds?”
“Yes. Some incredibly powerful spiritcasters of the distant past could manipulate minds and change the course of history with the power, but you should never do anything that violates free will while using your abilities.”
“Yeah, that isn’t the plan.” Kerrigan shivered.
“Good. We focus on a code of ethics here.” Cleora nodded her head approvingly. “We’ll begin by dropping in and out of dreams first. It’s much easier, but you do not want to stay for more than a second or two at a time, or you risk being pulled deeper into someone’s dream and not being able to leave. If you are injured or killed here on the plane, you will be injured or dead in the physical. Do you understand?”
Kerrigan gulped. “Yes, I understand.”
“It’s best to begin with people you are close with.”
“Why?”
Cleora laughed softly. “Well, some of them tend to remember you randomly appearing in their dreams. It makes more sense for them to explain that you showed up in their dream. It is another thing entirely for a complete stranger to recognize you from a dream. That can get very messy. And again, we have a code of ethics.”
“Understood.”
“Plus, friends and family are safer conduits.” Cleora nodded at her. “Now, think about your closest friend or family member, link your minds the way you would pull that person onto the plane, and instead of out, think in.”
“How do I find them?” Kerrigan asked.
Cleora looked at her sharply. “All this knowledge, and you know nothing of the shape of another’s casting?”
“Um … I know that some people have individual signatures. I found my dragon on the spirit plane that way.”
“Yes, similar concept. Once you know the shape of their casting, you can find them anywhere. A crux can sometimes help you locate a person. So, we’ll begin with that.”
Cleora drew her magic to herself. Only spirit could be seen on the plane, and it lit up gold between her hands. She rotated her hands three times, as if she were turning a dial, and then held it before her.
“Create your construct, and as you twist your hands, think about the person you are searching for. Put your intention into the construct and their signature, as you say, will be revealed.”
Kerrigan thought about Clover first, drawing her spirit to her and twisting it up with all the feelings she had toward one of her closest friends. The red vest she always wore for Dozan. The sharp smile she used only for her. The flick of her hands as she dealt the cards. And then she smelled it—loch and cinnamon.
She gasped at the unmistakable smell of Clover that enveloped her.
“Good. Good. Now, think inward and not outward. Stay a heartbeat and pull yourself out.”
Kerrigan concentrated and fell forward toward Clover. A second later, she was in the Wastes with Clover behind the card table. Darby stood to her left, and Hadrian stood to her right. She winked at one and then the other before glancing up in surprise to see Kerrigan there.
She hastily yanked herself out and fell forward out of her chair and onto the ground. She took a steadying breath. “Holy gods.”
“How did that go?”
“It worked. I saw … a dream, I think. It was my friend. She saw me.”
“That’s normal. You’ll want to jump in and out just as quickly, but not more than two or three a week. You will tire from it, and it becomes too suspicious. If you get good at it, you’ll be able to cloak yourself in a dream. So that the user cannot see you and you can only peer in on them. But it takes years to master that level of walking, and it is only used by highly trained users. As far as I know the emperor himself only has one such dreamwalker for this level of subterfuge.”
“People could spy on you through your dreams?” Kerrigan asked.
“Indeed. I don’t recommend it.”
“What do you recommend then?”
“I find it preferable to draw someone else into your dream rather than the other way around. It is much more difficult than everything but cloaking.” She glanced backward, suddenly fearful. “We’ll save that for next time. Bring your dragon if you must and keep working on walking.”
“But, Cleora—”
Things were finally getting interesting!
“I must go,” she said and then popped suddenly out of existence.
Kerrigan sighed. She wondered what it was exactly that Cleora had been afraid of. But she was gone, and Kerrigan should go with her. She could feel her magic was depleted from the few things that they’d worked on. Now, she had homework until the next full moon.
She stood from the chair, prepared to walk back into her physical body, and then she stopped. She knew how to find an individual person’s signature. Which meant she could theoretically find them anywhere in this world or the next. She had found Clover in seconds.
Did that mean she could find Fordham?
12
The Dreamwalking
Cleora had said dreamwalking was dangerous. Too dangerous to try to enter someone else’s dream for more than a second at a time. Kerrigan had learned nothing from stepping into Clover’s dream for only that moment. Only that she hoped for a future with both Darby and Hadrian at her side. Something Kerrigan knew already.
She could enter Fordham’s dream, but she doubted she would be able to find where he was in the physical world. It would be so much better if she learned how to pull him to her. Of course, that was the dreamwalking that Cleora hadn’t shown her how to do. She was just supposed to study with dropping into people’s dreams for the next month until their next meeting.
Another month without Fordham felt like torture. The last couple of weeks had been hard enough. She would have to deal with March all that time, pretend she wanted this insufferable marriage and cave to his stupid whims. The thought made her feel sick.
No, she needed Ford. She needed to find him and break the curse and return to a life of normalcy. Not the horrible one she was enduring presently. He’d know what to do about the Collector and her nomination to the council and March. They would figure it out together. Without him, she felt only half a person. A thought that crashed over her with its reality.
It steeled her resolve.
Kerrigan reached for her crux and felt the ball of golden light warm in her hands. Then, she dived deep into her memories of Prince Fordham Ollivier. The first time they had met when he was an imperious prince who detested half-Fae. The time she stumbled upon his sad-boy poetry. When he had her back during the tournament despite their differences. Their first kiss in the gazebo before he told her of his curse. The look in his eyes when she followed his commands on the dance floor inside his broken kingdom. The feel of his fingers inside her in the greenhouse with his lips hot on hers. The wrath on his face as March slipped an engagement ring on her finger. The hot springs as he claimed what had always belonged to him. And the despair as his people had gone to war and he knew there was nothing he could do to save them. The agony he must have been in as he saw his world crumble all around him.
The crux grew warmer and warmer until it nearly burned her skin, and then she smelled the signature scent that meant Fordham Ollivier—summer rain and charcoal. It was a strange mixture, but it was him.
She could have wept with joy at the scent that enveloped her. He wasn’t beyond her grasp. He was right there. All she had to do was reach out and see him.
A part of her knew that she wasn’t experienced enough for this, that she should do this under Cleora’s supervision, and that her magic was low. But she couldn’t come this close and walk away. She needed to see him, if only for a moment. As if a moment would ever be enough.
Kerrigan breathed the summer rain and charcoal deep into her lungs, and then she pushed inward and fell into Fordham’s dreams.
She was in the throne room inside the House of Shadows. The giant black marble pillars and white-and-black tiled floors made the room feel endless. King Samael sat on a black marble throne, as cold and hard as he was. Queen Viviana sat next to him in a much smaller white stone throne, looking down her nose at a female on the floor with her hands chained in iron.
Kerrigan shivered with disgust. Iron wasn’t exactly toxic to Fae, but it was far from pleasant. Many believed it inhumane to use it for anything. Let alone to shackle a prisoner when magic dampening shackles existed.
She drew her gaze away from the prisoner to where Fordham sat to the side of the throne. His face was hard as the marble he sat on. His features were drawn coolly into the mask he used to survive this place. He radiated sinister energy, even in these dark halls. He appeared to be looking down at the woman on the floor, but Kerrigan realized he was looking just past her, as if his storm-cloud-gray eyes couldn’t quite land on the woman.
She should run away from this scene. It was intruding on Fordham’s private moments to remain any longer than this second. She needed to pull herself out of it, but curiosity got the better of her. Who was this female? What was she doing on the floor? Why couldn’t Fordham look at her?
And worse. Just seeing him … oh, seeing him made her heart ache with longing.
“You are a traitor to your people,” Samael growled down at the woman. “How do you plead?”
The female looked up from where she was on her knees in a filthy white shift. Her eyes were furious, and she looked as if she was half-ready to rip the king to shreds. “If wanting to help those who are less fortunate than me makes me a traitor,” the female snarled, bent forward at the waist, “then so be it.”
“Releasing humans and half-Fae from our realm is punishable by death,” Samael said. “What say you, son? Does Dacia deserve this punishment?”
Kerrigan gasped. Dacia had been Fordham’s lover before he was exiled from the House of Shadows. He never spoke of what happened between them except on one occasion. That … that couldn’t possibly be this moment. But it was. It had to be. This was the moment Fordham had watched the female he loved die. He’d sat back and watched her head be cleaved from her shoulders.
Kerrigan winced slightly at the assessment. Cleora and the world she lived in acted as if dragons were mindless monsters to be used like horses. The very idea infuriated Kerrigan. She had adjusted her crux bond with her intention to make it a two-way bond rather than a leash, as Cleora had described.
“Well, my dragon is not just a beast,” she said softly.
She waved her hand. “I am not here to argue dragons with you. My brother works with dragons, and they have killed many of his fellows. Your dragons might be different, but I would still be wary.”
Kerrigan bit her lip. “My dragon, Tieran, actually requested to cross to the spirit plane and meet you.”
Color drained from Cleora’s face. “A beast in the spirit?”
“Well, in our world, dragons are known for their spirit abilities. They help Fae cross to the spirit plane. Surely, you’ve encountered them.”
“No. I have only met you, and the dragon wants to meet me?”
“Yes. His name is Tieran. Would you be okay with that?”
Cleora looked half-ready to pass out. “And you believe it safe?”
Kerrigan laughed. “Of course. I ride Tieran every day. We’re partners.”
“Well, it’s not done, but if you can guarantee safety, I would be interested in meeting a dragon, if they are as you describe them. My brother will never believe me.”
Kerrigan breathed a sigh of relief. Working with Tieran was always better than working alone. “Thank you. He will be pleased.”
“It is odd to consider that a dragon has feelings,” she said with a shrug. “But that is not our purpose today. We have much to cover since we are only meeting one night a month.”
“We could meet more often.” Kerrigan’s voice hitched with hope. How much more could she learn if they met even weekly? But the look on Cleora’s face dashed that hope.
She frowned. “No, this is as much time as I can spare. Training you on the plane is draining for me.”
Kerrigan nodded, trying not to let her frustration show. “Okay.”
“Let’s begin then. In my advanced theoretical casting classes, we follow the five tenets of casting,” Cleora explained, back in her element. “Unfortunately, few students have more than a wisp of spiritual magic between them, and so much of what I will teach you is purely theoretical. Surely, the emperor and his offspring could work advanced castings, but they are trained with private tutors, not at the university.”
“But you can do them?”
“Lords, I wish that I could,” she said with a sharp smile. “I can do some of the castings. We’ll go through one at each of our sessions and see how far we can get through the workings. Does that sound satisfactory?”
Kerrigan nodded. “What’s after the tenets? Will there be more material?”
Cleora held a hand up. “The doctoral program is a minimum of five years of study. I have enough to teach you for the rest of your long life.”
“Oh,” she said, her mouth popping open. “What is a doctoral program?”
“Your little world is quite backward, isn’t it? It’s a degree of study at our university, a school for learning more advanced workings.” Cleora nodded approvingly as Kerrigan took it all in. “Now, the five basic tenets of theoretical castings are the spirit plane, dreamwalking, visions, illusions, and energy.”
Kerrigan’s eyes widened at the list. Well, she could already tick off the spirit plane, visions, and energy as part of her abilities.
“I say these are the basic tenets, but that does not mean that they are easy. In fact, each one is more difficult as you work your way through the tenets. The spirit plane, where we are currently, is the easiest, but spirit plane manipulation is more difficult, especially if you are fighting for control of the plane.”
“Like conjuring the table and chairs.”
“Yes. Or when I pulled you down here from the clouds at our first meeting. Try to do something simple—change your clothing.”
Kerrigan focused on the simple black pants and shirt she was wearing. She brought to memory the black-and-silver dress she had worn to the Geivhrea celebration this winter. It was spectacular with a plunging neckline, covered by a glittery mesh that also worked its way down her arms and tied at her wrists. The skirts shimmered to almost liquid silver. She and Fordham had walked into Belcourt together as a matched set, clad in the colors of the House of Shadows, before it all fell apart.
The dress materialized on her figure, and she beamed. “I did it.”
“Yes, and that is quite a dress,” Cleora said with wide eyes.
“It was for a winter holiday.” She ran her hands down the sleeves.
“If I hadn’t already known you were from another world, I would have with that attire.”
Kerrigan laughed, and then a second later, the dress vanished, and her black pants returned. “What?”
“The plane belongs to whoever is the strongest in manipulation. At present, that is me. If you want your dress back, then you have to fight me to regain it. Or else you will always be subject to another’s whim.”
Kerrigan concentrated, at first feeling nothing. Then, she fought harder for the image of that dress. The last dress she had worn for Fordham when he still loved her completely, without fear. It was that emotion that made her feel the seam of Cleora’s working. She had no idea how to unravel it and went for blunt force instead. She imagined a knife in her mind and ripped it down the working. The thing popped like a bubble, and her dress appeared again.
Cleora gasped and rocked back in her chair. Her eyes were wide. She clutched her chest, as if Kerrigan had actually used the knife.
“Oh gods, did I hurt you?”
“No,” Cleora said after a minute. She eyed Kerrigan suspiciously. “How did you know how to break the working?”
“I didn’t. I just sort of attacked it.”
Cleora was silent as she assessed Kerrigan. “That was quite advanced for having never done that before.”
“I’m pretty good with knives.”
She chuckled. “I see. There are more subtle means to achieve what you just did, but your way was most effective.”
“Subtly isn’t my specialty,” she admitted.
“No, I could see that.” Cleora cleared her throat. “Well, we’ll leave that for now. You have the basics down. I would continue to work on developing your ability to control the plane in my absence … maybe with this dragon of yours.”
“Tieran would like that.”
Cleora looked faintly sick at the thought, but she pressed on. “We’ll move on from spirit plane manipulation then. The second tenet is dreamwalking. What do you know of it?”
Kerrigan shook her head. “Nothing. Though I’ve had prophetic dreams before.”
Cleora raised her eyebrows. “Visions?”
“Yes.”
She pursed her lips. “I want to hear more about these visions, but we’ll have to wait until next time. The emperor knows, bless him, that it’s impossible for me to teach the tenets out of order. Dreamwalking is dream manipulation. Have you ever done something like that before?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Good. It’s dangerous without proper training.”
She was finding that everything was dangerous without proper training, and Kerrigan had just been fumbling around in the dark with this stuff since her visions manifested.
“There are two types of walking. The first is pulling someone into a dream, and the other is falling into someone else’s dreams. Entering a person’s dream is easier but more dangerous, and pulling someone into a dream is harder but safer for you.”
“And … how do I do that?”
“It’s a lot like entering the spirit plane with someone else. Have you ever done that before?”
“Yes,” Kerrigan admitted. “It wasn’t too difficult.”
She’d had one spirit trainer before Cleora. Mistress Zahina had been the daughter of the last spiritcaster in Alandria. She had been the one to show her how to safely enter and exit the plane. Though when she realized exactly what Kerrigan was, she had dropped their training. Only another spiritcaster could properly train her.
“That’s good. The same principle applies, but instead of thinking out of your body, you think into the mind.”
Kerrigan’s eyes widened. “You can enter people’s minds?”
“Yes. Some incredibly powerful spiritcasters of the distant past could manipulate minds and change the course of history with the power, but you should never do anything that violates free will while using your abilities.”
“Yeah, that isn’t the plan.” Kerrigan shivered.
“Good. We focus on a code of ethics here.” Cleora nodded her head approvingly. “We’ll begin by dropping in and out of dreams first. It’s much easier, but you do not want to stay for more than a second or two at a time, or you risk being pulled deeper into someone’s dream and not being able to leave. If you are injured or killed here on the plane, you will be injured or dead in the physical. Do you understand?”
Kerrigan gulped. “Yes, I understand.”
“It’s best to begin with people you are close with.”
“Why?”
Cleora laughed softly. “Well, some of them tend to remember you randomly appearing in their dreams. It makes more sense for them to explain that you showed up in their dream. It is another thing entirely for a complete stranger to recognize you from a dream. That can get very messy. And again, we have a code of ethics.”
“Understood.”
“Plus, friends and family are safer conduits.” Cleora nodded at her. “Now, think about your closest friend or family member, link your minds the way you would pull that person onto the plane, and instead of out, think in.”
“How do I find them?” Kerrigan asked.
Cleora looked at her sharply. “All this knowledge, and you know nothing of the shape of another’s casting?”
“Um … I know that some people have individual signatures. I found my dragon on the spirit plane that way.”
“Yes, similar concept. Once you know the shape of their casting, you can find them anywhere. A crux can sometimes help you locate a person. So, we’ll begin with that.”
Cleora drew her magic to herself. Only spirit could be seen on the plane, and it lit up gold between her hands. She rotated her hands three times, as if she were turning a dial, and then held it before her.
“Create your construct, and as you twist your hands, think about the person you are searching for. Put your intention into the construct and their signature, as you say, will be revealed.”
Kerrigan thought about Clover first, drawing her spirit to her and twisting it up with all the feelings she had toward one of her closest friends. The red vest she always wore for Dozan. The sharp smile she used only for her. The flick of her hands as she dealt the cards. And then she smelled it—loch and cinnamon.
She gasped at the unmistakable smell of Clover that enveloped her.
“Good. Good. Now, think inward and not outward. Stay a heartbeat and pull yourself out.”
Kerrigan concentrated and fell forward toward Clover. A second later, she was in the Wastes with Clover behind the card table. Darby stood to her left, and Hadrian stood to her right. She winked at one and then the other before glancing up in surprise to see Kerrigan there.
She hastily yanked herself out and fell forward out of her chair and onto the ground. She took a steadying breath. “Holy gods.”
“How did that go?”
“It worked. I saw … a dream, I think. It was my friend. She saw me.”
“That’s normal. You’ll want to jump in and out just as quickly, but not more than two or three a week. You will tire from it, and it becomes too suspicious. If you get good at it, you’ll be able to cloak yourself in a dream. So that the user cannot see you and you can only peer in on them. But it takes years to master that level of walking, and it is only used by highly trained users. As far as I know the emperor himself only has one such dreamwalker for this level of subterfuge.”
“People could spy on you through your dreams?” Kerrigan asked.
“Indeed. I don’t recommend it.”
“What do you recommend then?”
“I find it preferable to draw someone else into your dream rather than the other way around. It is much more difficult than everything but cloaking.” She glanced backward, suddenly fearful. “We’ll save that for next time. Bring your dragon if you must and keep working on walking.”
“But, Cleora—”
Things were finally getting interesting!
“I must go,” she said and then popped suddenly out of existence.
Kerrigan sighed. She wondered what it was exactly that Cleora had been afraid of. But she was gone, and Kerrigan should go with her. She could feel her magic was depleted from the few things that they’d worked on. Now, she had homework until the next full moon.
She stood from the chair, prepared to walk back into her physical body, and then she stopped. She knew how to find an individual person’s signature. Which meant she could theoretically find them anywhere in this world or the next. She had found Clover in seconds.
Did that mean she could find Fordham?
12
The Dreamwalking
Cleora had said dreamwalking was dangerous. Too dangerous to try to enter someone else’s dream for more than a second at a time. Kerrigan had learned nothing from stepping into Clover’s dream for only that moment. Only that she hoped for a future with both Darby and Hadrian at her side. Something Kerrigan knew already.
She could enter Fordham’s dream, but she doubted she would be able to find where he was in the physical world. It would be so much better if she learned how to pull him to her. Of course, that was the dreamwalking that Cleora hadn’t shown her how to do. She was just supposed to study with dropping into people’s dreams for the next month until their next meeting.
Another month without Fordham felt like torture. The last couple of weeks had been hard enough. She would have to deal with March all that time, pretend she wanted this insufferable marriage and cave to his stupid whims. The thought made her feel sick.
No, she needed Ford. She needed to find him and break the curse and return to a life of normalcy. Not the horrible one she was enduring presently. He’d know what to do about the Collector and her nomination to the council and March. They would figure it out together. Without him, she felt only half a person. A thought that crashed over her with its reality.
It steeled her resolve.
Kerrigan reached for her crux and felt the ball of golden light warm in her hands. Then, she dived deep into her memories of Prince Fordham Ollivier. The first time they had met when he was an imperious prince who detested half-Fae. The time she stumbled upon his sad-boy poetry. When he had her back during the tournament despite their differences. Their first kiss in the gazebo before he told her of his curse. The look in his eyes when she followed his commands on the dance floor inside his broken kingdom. The feel of his fingers inside her in the greenhouse with his lips hot on hers. The wrath on his face as March slipped an engagement ring on her finger. The hot springs as he claimed what had always belonged to him. And the despair as his people had gone to war and he knew there was nothing he could do to save them. The agony he must have been in as he saw his world crumble all around him.
The crux grew warmer and warmer until it nearly burned her skin, and then she smelled the signature scent that meant Fordham Ollivier—summer rain and charcoal. It was a strange mixture, but it was him.
She could have wept with joy at the scent that enveloped her. He wasn’t beyond her grasp. He was right there. All she had to do was reach out and see him.
A part of her knew that she wasn’t experienced enough for this, that she should do this under Cleora’s supervision, and that her magic was low. But she couldn’t come this close and walk away. She needed to see him, if only for a moment. As if a moment would ever be enough.
Kerrigan breathed the summer rain and charcoal deep into her lungs, and then she pushed inward and fell into Fordham’s dreams.
She was in the throne room inside the House of Shadows. The giant black marble pillars and white-and-black tiled floors made the room feel endless. King Samael sat on a black marble throne, as cold and hard as he was. Queen Viviana sat next to him in a much smaller white stone throne, looking down her nose at a female on the floor with her hands chained in iron.
Kerrigan shivered with disgust. Iron wasn’t exactly toxic to Fae, but it was far from pleasant. Many believed it inhumane to use it for anything. Let alone to shackle a prisoner when magic dampening shackles existed.
She drew her gaze away from the prisoner to where Fordham sat to the side of the throne. His face was hard as the marble he sat on. His features were drawn coolly into the mask he used to survive this place. He radiated sinister energy, even in these dark halls. He appeared to be looking down at the woman on the floor, but Kerrigan realized he was looking just past her, as if his storm-cloud-gray eyes couldn’t quite land on the woman.
She should run away from this scene. It was intruding on Fordham’s private moments to remain any longer than this second. She needed to pull herself out of it, but curiosity got the better of her. Who was this female? What was she doing on the floor? Why couldn’t Fordham look at her?
And worse. Just seeing him … oh, seeing him made her heart ache with longing.
“You are a traitor to your people,” Samael growled down at the woman. “How do you plead?”
The female looked up from where she was on her knees in a filthy white shift. Her eyes were furious, and she looked as if she was half-ready to rip the king to shreds. “If wanting to help those who are less fortunate than me makes me a traitor,” the female snarled, bent forward at the waist, “then so be it.”
“Releasing humans and half-Fae from our realm is punishable by death,” Samael said. “What say you, son? Does Dacia deserve this punishment?”
Kerrigan gasped. Dacia had been Fordham’s lover before he was exiled from the House of Shadows. He never spoke of what happened between them except on one occasion. That … that couldn’t possibly be this moment. But it was. It had to be. This was the moment Fordham had watched the female he loved die. He’d sat back and watched her head be cleaved from her shoulders.
