The embroidered pattern glinted iridescent, like a blackbird’s feathers.
Eliana’s joy died. A lie. It was a lie. This was not her home. It was Corien’s.
“No,” she said, and stepped back from him. Soon she would awaken. She knew the pattern by now. She would come to in her room and see him watching her, listen to him comfort and coax her.
Guards arrived at her elbows, forcing her forward into the shadowed receiving hall where they had first met.
“Another dream?” She laughed, grasping wildly for bravado. “I didn’t realize you would be so tiresome.”
Corien said nothing, gliding past her.
“I have a gift for you, Eliana,” he said smoothly, and as Eliana followed him, stumbling between her relentless angelic guards, two figures in the shadows came into view.
Simon, his eyes flat and cold, his body all tidy sharp lines in the black imperial uniform. Square shoulders, gold buttons, red sash.
And Remy, standing beside him, thin and pale and dressed in a plain tunic and trousers, the fabric torn and stained. Eyes wide, hands in chains, lip bloodied.
Eliana’s stomach lurched, but she stayed where she was. She clenched her fists and kept her voice calm. “I’ve seen this before. I’ve seen a hundred Remys, and some of them looked just like this.”
“Remy Ferracora,” said Corien, circling the room. “A famed storyteller, I’ve heard.”
“El?” Remy’s voice was hoarse. His eyes darted wildly from Eliana to Corien to the doors. “What’s happening? Where have they been keeping you?”
Eliana did not reply. She would not participate in this. Not again. Not ever. For too many nights, she had believed what she saw. She had attempted escape. She had been home in Orline with her father, with Harkan. She had been on a white shore with Simon, in a gray cottage that was all their own.
Never again. She swallowed hard. She said nothing.
Remy glanced fearfully at Corien. “Can I go to her?”
Remy flew into her arms, but Eliana’s dreams had felt real before. She looked away, doing nothing, saying nothing. Corien was watching as he circled them, hands behind his back. There was a slight smile on his lips.
She would give him nothing.
“Where have you been?” Remy pressed his face against her arm. His thin body trembled. “I called for you, and you never came.”
“I’m sorry,” she replied distantly. “I’ve been busy.”
Remy pulled back to frown at her. “What’s wrong with you? Don’t you care where I’ve been?”
Eliana refused to look at him. If she looked into the eyes of one more creation of Corien’s mind, he would win.
“Tell me,” she said, indifferent.
Remy paused, uncertain, and then said quickly, “It’s a place of many rooms. I don’t know how many. I can’t count them. It’s underground, dark and cold. I hear them all around me. Thousands of voices, screaming and crying and laughing.” He hesitated, glanced at Simon. “He brought me there, the first day he arrived. He put me in my room.”
Ah, and now Corien would bring Simon into the lie, try to draw her in that way. “I see. What room?”
“The place where I’m kept.” Remy stepped back from her, and now his voice turned fearful. “Why aren’t you looking at me?”
“Sad, isn’t it?” Corien approached, his face alight with glee. “To see her so changed? I suppose she doesn’t care about you anymore.”
Remy moved away from them both. “What have you done to her?”
“The question you should be asking,” said Corien, “is what will I do to you?”
Suddenly, Remy’s body seized where he stood. He jerked left, then right with choked cries, then fell, his jaw smacking hard against the floor, and began to scream.
For a moment, Eliana stared at him, frozen with horror as his screams tore at her and her blood roared.
Then she turned her back on him, looking instead at the closed doors.
“I won’t be your plaything anymore,” she said tightly.
Corien came around to stare at her, his expression one of mocking surprise. “And instead you will allow your own brother to be? I thought I knew you well.”
She stepped away from him. Behind her, Remy’s screams rent the air asunder. Her arms erupted in chills. She made for the doors. Any moment now, she would awaken in her bed, rested and triumphant, and Corien would be the fool, not her.
“The daughter of the noble Lightbringer,” he mused, keeping pace at her side. “Who would have thought you could be so cold?”
She reached the doors. When she spoke, her voice shook with anger.