Page 135 of The Faceless Queen

I sat up in bed, my heart racing, the chimera’s warning coming back to me again and again.

We warned you more would come. We want the prince.

I rushed to one of my traveling trunks, opening it and pulling out everything in heaps until I found a small blue satin bag, buried at the bottom.

Thunder cracked outside, the storm still raging, and I began tossing everything back into the trunk, sealing it shut and rushing back to my bed, pulling out the contents—the items I’d hidden in the vase. The torn pieces of parchment of Alyra, and my mother’s locket. I opened the necklace, staring down at the image she’d drawn of Orsete.

Orsete, I prayed, begged, what did it mean? What was that dream? What was happening?

And then, almost as if she had answered me herself, something the Hermit told me about the prophecy came back to my mind. Something that had been overshadowed by my worries for Brennan.

“Evil from the Doom, evil we thought was long gone and buried, destroyed—has found a way to survive. It has not only resurfaced but is slowly beginning to wake up. It cannot yet, and it will not be able to do so until the birth of a child.”

I closed the locket and placed it back in the bag, stuffing it all inside my pillowcase. Was it possible that the evil we thought long gone and buried was a God? Was the whole purpose of the child born of Eskalon and Azeal meant to be the one who would battle against Batrir when he returned?

As Azete, I could not receive prophecies. Not like another witch. But what I possessed was years of study

I’d read many of the recordings in the Book of Orsete. I’d read the histories, the legends, the fairy tales, the theories. And in all of them, there was one common fact. Batrir had been known to control chimera. And according to tradition in Eskalon, his armor was supposed to be handed down through the ruling line, worn by the crown prince.

Brennan didn’t have the armor. He’d never worn it. Yet, Brennan was at the center of the Hermit’s prophecy. And Brennan was the one who had been attacked by chimera twice in under a month. Chimera who told me twice they wanted the prince.

Did the chimera want the armor for Batrir himself? Did they think Brennan had possession of it? Or were they truly hunting Brennan himself?

I didn’t know. But whatever it was, he was in danger. No longer just from me, nor from Jaron and House Bathiner and its supporters—but from Batrir himself.

And despite how he felt about me, or what he planned to do next, he needed to be warned.

I reached for a robe, and tied it tight around my waist, adding slippers and heading for the door.

A dozen knights stood guard outside, each one alert and armed, their tunics layered over their steel revealing the sigil of House Lafir, the blue moonstag and the red flames behind its wings. It was exactly as Brennan had promised.

“Princess Olivay,” they all began to murmur, and bowed. One stepped forward, the leader I presumed, a guard I’d seen on nearly every one of my morning shifts.

“You’re to stay in your room until His Highness says so.” He bowed. “For your safety.”

“I need to see the prince,” I demanded. “At once.”

The leader nodded. “He said you may leave only to go to him in the morning. His room is just there.” He pointed to the door right next to mine.

Only a wall had separated us all night. Barely enough to keep the Azete from feeding if his thoughts of me had been strong enough.

I turned and knocked on the door as the leader of his guard announced my presence. “Good morning, Your Highness. Princess Olivay requests an audience with you.”

There was no answer. I knocked again and again, and finally, Brennan opened the door, his eyes full of sleep, dark circles underneath them. He looked awful, like he hadn’t slept at all, or if he had, it had been fitful with terrible dreams.

“Your Highness,” I said formally, my heart thundering. “I need to speak with you.”

He frowned, a mix of fire and sleep in his eyes, but held the door open wide, nodding at the guards standing behind me. Then he closed it, leaving us alone. Our only source of light was the early stirrings of the sun shining through the window, its glass streaked with raindrops. A small respite from the storm.

I stared at his hand, at his golden sigil ring. The same one I’d seen him wear dozens of times. The ring I’d worn in my dream when I—No. It hadn’t been my dream. I hadn’t shifted in it.

I looked at the wall separating his bedroom from mine. Not enough to stop the Azete from feeding, not when his feelings were this strong, and his body this close.

I’d been in his dream. Just as I’d been before. My heart thundered. He’d connected to my mind like the night we spent together in the city, when I’d been pulled into his dream. And before, when he was still delirious from drowning at the lake.

“Do you remember your dream from last night?” I asked him.

“What?”