Chapter 46

46

DRAVEN

B efore Sylvan locked me away and threw away the keys, I spent my nights walking through dreams.

It’s surprisingly easy. Almost all Night fae can partake in such an activity, though they usually have to be in the general proximity of their target before they can attempt it.

Not me, though. I’ve always been more powerful than the average Night fae—and not just because of my royal blood.

The first time I dreamwalked, it hurt. I was nothing but a vibrating, shaking mass of knife-edged particles. It felt as if my entire body was being turned inside out. Bile attempted to skitter up my esophagus, but sheer determination kept it at bay.

The dream world almost reminds me of a…tapestry. Intricate lines expand in every direction. Some of them are dark as pitch, while others burn a luminescent shade of white. All I need to do is pluck one, and I’ll be transported into the dream.

Or the nightmare.

I remember I was confused about what I was seeing. My father hadn’t told me the dreamworld looked like this. Everything was colored in shades of gray and black—the grass, the sky, and the rippling hills in the distance. There were no buildings that I could see, only intricate threads that overlapped.

The first one I plucked transported me into a forest. A male fae stood there, his mouth agape in horror, as a towering monster attempted to swallow him whole. His fear was almost palpable, contaminating the air and arrowing straight into my lungs. Just before the monster could eat the fae whole, I closed my eyes and willed the beast to disappear.

When I opened my eyelids, the monster was gone, and the sun poked through the pregnant storm clouds.

It was only then that I realized I could influence dreams as well as visit them.

From then on out, I spent every night traveling from dream to dream. Some of them were horrible nightmares that made my skin crawl—a female getting burned alive, a male watching his pregnant wife get murdered by monsters, a child screaming for help. Others were much happier—two fae falling in love, a male receiving inexplicable wealth from a distant relative, a female getting accepted into her top university.

There were a lot of sex dreams.

A lot .

At first, I stumbled out of the dream so quickly that my head spun. But then I realized…what the hell? I would often join in on those illicit activities.

Everything changed when I stumbled across her dreams.

Her thread glowed brighter than any of the others. So bright that I actually had to squint my eyes to keep from going blind. It illuminated my surroundings and provided color to the monochromatic world I grew accustomed to.

When I stepped into her dream, I knew immediately who she was to me.

My mate.

But the awe I should’ve felt dissipated when I realized she was in the midst of a nightmare.

Three guards were holding her down while another shoved down the waistband of his trousers. She wiggled and cried, but no matter how loudly she screamed, no one seemed to hear her.

It only took me a tick to take in the situation. And then a tick more to spring into action.

I took a deep, harrowing breath—willing air back into my frozen lungs—and imagined that we were in a peaceful field. Flowers dotted the landscape, and in the distance, hills rippled like a sea of gray. I closed my eyes and commanded color to fill this world. For the sky to turn a bright blue, for the grass to turn green, for the trees to turn brown. I’m not sure if it worked or not. The world looked the exact same to me—shades of gray, black, and white—but the female’s eyes widened in wonder.

I learned her name was Kassandra.

She called me Raven.

From then on out, I visited her every night I could. I searched with bated breath for her thread to appear, and then I’d pluck it with eager anticipation. Every time I was with her, one word reverberated through my head on repeat.

Mate.

Kassandra was—is—my mate.

I needed to get to her. Save her.

She didn’t outright admit it, but I knew she lived in less than savory conditions. She alluded to an abusive guardian on more than one occasion.

Didn’t she understand that I was a damn prince? That I could save her?

But she didn’t believe I truly existed, and I had no way of proving it to her.

I sent guards out daily to try and track her down, but every time they arrived back at my doorstep with a blonde-haired female, devastation ravaged me at the knowledge that it’s not my blonde-haired female.

And then Sylvan came to my home and locked me away.

Locked my powers away.

Now, it’s impossible for me to reach her. I can do nothing but sit here and waste away.

I half wonder if the brief glimpse I had of her in my prison was real or a hallucination. It wouldn’t surprise me if it was the latter. I feel as if I’m losing my mind.

“You still awake?” Calan’s wary voice drifts to me from the cell next door.

“No,” I deadpan as I once again fiddle with the cuff on my wrist.

Anger swirls insipidly in my stomach when I think about how stupid I was to trust Sylvan. Everyone always told me he was one tick away from losing his damn mind, but I defended him. He was my friend, after all, despite his numerous flaws. Practically my brother.

How stupid I’d been.

How na?ve.

Can princes even have friends? Or are we fated to wander this world alone?

The last thought conjures up images of Kassandra.

Was that meeting with her in my cell real? It certainly felt so. I swear I can feel her touch on my arm even now, magnifying my goose bumps and sending tendrils of heat through my body.

“When do you think we’ll see Draven—I mean Sylvan again? He hasn’t visited us in a while.” Even imprisoned, Calan sounds as impassive as ever, his voice layered with frost.

“Maybe he got his cock eaten off,” I suggest dryly, offering a brittle smile I know he can’t see.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Calan snorts. “How in the world would that happen?”

“Don’t know. Maybe a monster?”

“So you’re saying that a monster ate Sylvan’s cock off?” Calan chokes on a laugh.

At least, it sounds like one, though I’m not sure I ever heard the Winter Prince properly laugh before.

“Stranger things have happened.” I pluck at the cuff yet again, and this time…it moves.

A cold, seeping chill winds its way down my spine.

“What do you think he meant when he said that Chaos infected the Summer family?” Calan continues, but I ignore him as I focus all of my attention on the metal cuff.

I wiggle my finger beneath my band and begin to twist it back and forth.

And…

There!

Directly in the center of the band, bisecting the strange etching, is a crack.

A fucking crack!

My pulse spikes, and I can’t help but feel I’m being watched. I inconspicuously twist my head towards the door of my prison but don’t see anyone. No Sylvan with his face that looks eerily similar to mine—minus the scar—and no Mikage, Sylvan’s best friend and right-hand asshole.

I focus on the crack and begin to twist the cuff back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Every time I do that, the crack widens, until the two halves of the bracelet are only connected by a single metal thread.

Please, please work.

Gaia, I don’t ask for much, but if you ever gave a damn about me, you would ? —

The cuff breaks in half and shatters to the ground.

All at once, my powers snap back into me with such a staggering intensity I can’t help but gasp.

“Draven?” Calan’s voice is rife with alarm.

I close my eyelids and see nothing but a night sky, riven with twinkling stars and a full moon.

Yes…

The moonlight wavers and withers like a mass of silver snakes. It lights up the barren wasteland I’ve found myself in.

Then a raw wave of power explodes outwards, tiny pieces of debris blotting out the stars, and I know it’s a physical representation of the wall prohibiting me from using my magic crashing down.

When I reopen my eyes, I know that the galaxies themselves are reflected in my gaze—everything that hides in the darkness and goes bump in the night. I can feel the raw, unencumbered magic flowing through my veins, a heady, intoxicating sensation.

Energy returns to me, and I no longer feel lethargic and tired. I’m practically vibrating with anticipation as I slowly rise to my feet.

“Draven?” Calan sounds distressed now. “What in Gaia’s name is going on? Are you hurt?”

“I feel…powerful,” I purr silkily as I reach for the bars of my cell.

Magic flows through my fingertips, and the metal crackles, turning into stardust that rains down around me.

I step out of my cell and turn towards Calan’s.

The Winter Prince sits on the floor, gaping at me. His white hair appears almost brown—no doubt a product of dirt, blood, and grime. Dark smudges outline both of his eyes. He looks thinner than I remember him being, and his stylish clothes practically hang off his slender frame.

“Draven?” Calan hurries to his feet and grips the cell bars tightly.

I turn my gaze towards the cuff on his wrist as thunderous anger reverberates through me.

Without a word, I reach for the cuff and watch it crumble to dust.

Calan stares in wide-eyed disbelief before slowly shifting his gaze to me. He blinks multiple times before he seems to come back to himself. As I watch, his careful mask rearranges itself back on his face.

He doesn’t thank me or even acknowledge me as he touches the bars of his cage and turns them to ice. Then, with another flick of his wrist, the ice shatters, and he joins me.

Incandescent anger sparks in his blue eyes, an emotion I know is mirrored in my own.

“How about we go find Sylvan and put an end to this once and for all?” I ask darkly.

Put an end to him once and for all.

That bastard impersonated me.

Imprisoned me.

Kept me from my mate.

Now, he’ll pay with his life.

Calan’s smile would be terrifying if I didn’t know we were on the same side.

“I think it’s about time the Day Prince got what he deserved. Don’t you agree?” he asks.

Sylvan, you better run…

Because once I find you, you’ll wish you were dead.