The Fae King's Dream (Between Dawn and Dusk #2) - Jamie Schlosser Page 0,35

necessary. “That’s good, right?”

“Meh.” Astrid does a non-committal shrug. “Depends on what we find out. We’ll be producing the most significant moments of your life. The ones that shaped who you are. Sometimes those are the events that hurt us the most.”

Building character. Somehow, I know that’s what my father would say about hard times. And I want to know him. It’s not just me I’m missing—it’s all the people in my life that I can’t remember.

I inhale deeply, preparing for whatever’s coming my way. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“Make sure to tell us what you see.”

Nodding, I look at Damon for strength. His eyes are blank like always, but there’s encouragement in the set of his jaw. Cringing, I brace myself for the inevitable pain as I lean forward.

As soon as my fingers touch the mist, I get sucked in and my body locks up. Every muscle seizes as the energy infiltrates my cells. My skin, my heart, my toenails.

It’s everywhere, inside and out.

The worst part is my brain. It’s pulsing. Moving around in my head. Producing agony so intense I have to clench my teeth to withstand it.

It’s too much.

I try to tug my hand away, but it won’t budge even a little. I’m locked in.

“Stop,” Damon demands. “Astrid, turn it off.”

“I can’t. Her memories will be completely fried if we don’t go through with this.”

As they continue to argue, I’m distracted by the images popping up in my mind. The world around me fades away, and suddenly, I’m in a different place and time.

It’s dark and I’m lying in a bed with high sides. Objects float above me. A baby mobile.

“I’m in a crib, I think,” I announce weakly. Damon and Astrid immediately stop their bickering to listen. “Two people are looking at me and they’re smiling.”

My parents. I can feel their love. The man is a redhead like me, while the woman has long black hair. When she tucks a lock behind her ear, I see the pointy shape.

I gasp. “They’re fae.”

“Where are you?” Astrid asks curiously.

“I don’t know. A house. There’s candlelight on their faces, but it’s too dark to see much else.”

“Either the Dream Realm or the Night Realm, then. With your red hair, I’m inclined to say it’s more likely the former.”

Suddenly, the smiling faces above me change. Their grins drop, morphing to horrified ‘O’ shapes. “They’re turning their backs and they’re shouting. Trying to protect me.” I scream when the glint of a long blade comes out of nowhere. Blood splatters and a head lands next to me. “My father’s head. It’s in the crib. I can hear my mother crying.”

More blood goes flying and the crying stops. It’s so silent. Then I see a shadow peer over the side. “Someone’s picking me up, but their face is hidden by a hood.”

“The witches.” I hear Damon say, though his voice sounds so far away.

The next thing I know, it’s bright and I’m outside. “Someone’s putting me on the ground. I’m in front of a brick building with a red door.” Realization hits me when I see a man in a uniform. “A fire station. I was left there.”

“They kidnapped her, your majesty,” Astrid murmurs, “and brought her to the human realm to hide her from you.”

More faces emerge, and these two are familiar. The parents that raised me. Morgan and Dustin Duvall. Feelings of love and security fill me as they both kiss my cheeks at the same time.

“I was adopted by wonderful people.” My voice cracks with emotion. “I’m at a doctor’s office now. They’re talking about my misshapen ears.” I let out a bittersweet laugh. “They’re told I’ll probably grow out of it, but I get the feeling he’s just being nice and giving them false hope.”

“But see? Your body did change eventually. The ears always go first.” There’s so much anticipation in Astrid’s whispered words when she asks, “How old are you?”

“Six months, maybe. I don’t think I can walk yet.”

Time passes in a blur of sippy cups, pigtails, and our house in the suburbs. Then everything slows again.

“I’m four years old. I woke up from a nightmare about my grandma dying of a heart attack while she was in the shower. I’m telling my parents about it, but they’re saying it’s just a dream.” Several days go by. “But wait. It wasn’t. It happened the next week, just like I said it would. We’re at her funeral and my parents are looking at me in a weird way. Like I