Page 19 of Realm of Dreams & Shadows

Her brow furrows. “Do you want me to stay awake until you do?”

I blink, reminded of my mother. She used to tell me how Uncle Finn would do that for her. I shake my head. “No, it’s okay. Really. I think I’ll sleep through the rest of the night.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but she nods and goes back to her bed, and I close my eyes as if everything is back on track and I’m doing peachy keen with a scoop of awesome.

I’m not. Something’s off. Something’s different. And it’s not just that I’m in an unfamiliar place. Something about the dream had been different. Not just the intensity or the vivid detail, but them. Adric, whom I’ve never been that close to before, but who entices me in a way that’s achingly familiar.

And, of course, there’s the weirdness, too. I mean, he called me his queen. His queen! Seriously, what the hell?

And then there’s Golden Eyes, who’d pushed me to safety while he faced certain death. Or did he? Can he die? Is he even real?

Is he Chase?

Did I put the face of my real-life protector from four years ago into my dreams?

Or did the protector in my dreams find me—and save me—in the real world?

Am I really meant to be a queen in some strange nightmare land? And is Golden Eyes trying to keep that from happening?

If so, why?

For that matter, why on earth would I be a queen?

I don’t know the answers. But for the first time, I know the questions.

And now I’m thinking that I should have asked for Chase’s phone number. Because I’m pretty sure that he has the answers I need.

Chapter

Eight

Iwake to the sound of Tia trying to be quiet as she gets ready for the day. When she notices I’m up, she pauses, makeup brush in hand.

“Hey,” she says, her voice carefully neutral. “How are you feeling?”

I groan and clutch my pillow. “Like death warmed over. Like I’ve been run over by a truck. Like every euphemism for a hangover, only without the fun part of actually getting drunk.”

“At least you still have your sense of humor.”

I scowl, then push myself up—which makes my achy head ache even more.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I start to shake my head, then wince. “Just a bad dream. Probably stress. You know. College. Dorm life. New roomie.”

She flashes a wide grin. “Go ahead. Dump it all on me. I can totally handle it.”

The thing is, I believe her. And I almost—almost—do exactly that. Fortunately, sanity kicks in, and I realize that there is no way to explain that scorpion things and baby monsters and other creatures in my dreams are trying to kill me, just like they killed my mother. And that the dream warrior who saved me looks a hell of a lot like Chase.

Not and sound sane, anyway.

Instead of trying, I grab my bathroom basket and shuffle toward the door, hoping a shower stall is free. I need a few moments alone to get my head straight again.

“Cora,” she says as I’m reaching for the doorknob.

I turn and look back over my shoulder.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk?”