Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

T he wind shrieks like a banshee, snow whipping against the towering windows. If I were worthy of my Avalon Steel torc, I'd jump through that window, shattering the glass and plummeting to my death. Better for a spy to die than be captured.

And yet, what is his plan?

If he wanted me arrested, he would have let the guard stay. He wouldn't tell him to leave and not say a word to anyone. The prince has something else up his sleeve.

He's looking at me like a cat watching a glass at the edge of a table. Maybe he'll smash me, maybe not. But either way, I have his interest. Beyond that, I can't read his expression, but this arrogant prince on a power trip ignites a molten rage inside my veins. I loathe this man like I've never hated anyone before.

The torchlight dances in his dark eyes as he stares down at me. "Let's start with your name."

"I'm Severine."

"No. Your real name."

"That is my real name."

He cocks his head, and a lock of ebony hair falls before one of his eyes. "If I desire, I can wrap you in a dream, girl. And in that dream, you will feel compelled to say your real name a thousand times. You will say it for days, for weeks, until you starve half to death, until the word no longer has meaning. So, let's try this again. What's your name?"

Thunder rumbles outside, rattling the diamond-shaped glass panes.

I feel it then, a touch of his velvety power, brushing at the edges of my mind. Threatening to wrap around me, to envelop my reality. He really will do it unless I act fast. The shield in my mind isn't strong enough. There wasn't enough time to practice.

Lying works best when it is laced with truth. I can give this evil fucker a crumb.

I narrow my eyes at him, jaw tightening.

I should be acting like a meek girl, intimidated by the crown prince. But Raphael's words still echo in my mind, and the state of his ravaged, tortured body burns my thoughts like a brand.

"Fine, it's Nia." I spit out the words. "Vaillancourt." My words come out sharper than they should, while my mind is whirring, making up a story that would work, that would convince him I'm not worth his time.

"So, Nia . What are you doing here?" His voice is so uncannily familiar, and the sound of his deep, velvety voice as he speaks my name sends a strange rush of heat through my blood.

My pulse is racing out of control. Some Fey can hear a heartbeat while standing nearby. I wonder if he's one of them.

I lift my chin. "My family and I are tenants on farmland we don't own. And we're short on money. I met a lord one day who was slumming it in one of the country taverns, and he promised to lend us money, but he wanted me to get it from him in person. He told me to sneak in here at night when it was less guarded."

A look of irritation crosses Talan's handsome features. "Ah. And this so-called lord? Who is he?"

When I last saw Talan, he was with a retinue of followers, and I'd invaded their minds—nearly losing my own identity in their thoughts. For weeks, I'd occasionally get confused, thinking that I was actually one of them, and I still remembered each of their interior worlds. One of them is his cousin Lumos, a womanizer, desperate to be like Talan, though he's also driven by relentless jealousy of his cousin. And since Lumos has little charm of his own, he often tries to lure women with promises of money. But he hardly keeps track of their names.

"Lord Lumos, he's called. He was so generous with his offer. He told me he would cover our debt and give me a little extra to carry us through the winter."

The Dream Stalker's eyes dance with dark amusement. "Is that what he said? And what did he want in return for this surprisingly generous loan?"

My fingers tighten into fists. "I think he was just being nice. He told me he can afford to be nice because he's very important, that he's close to the royal family. He said that he once saved you from a wild wolf."

I remember Lumos's thoughts about the wolf incident. Talan always downplayed it, said that it was more a badger than a wolf, and that he'd never been in danger in the first place. Lumos told the story about the wolf whenever Talan wasn't around.

"It was a badger," Talan says with a sigh. "So, you're here for money."

"Without the loan, we'll be destitute. You can ask him about our conversation a few weeks ago."

Even if my story were true, he'd never remember a common woman he met in a tavern. He spends half his life drunk.

Talan's dark eyebrows draw together. "And how did you enter the fortress, Nia?"

"I bribed a guard with the last of our money."

Talan's body goes still. Behind him, the torches flicker. "You're lying again."

My heart skips a beat. "I bribed him. I don't want to get anyone in trouble, but I can tell you what he looks like."

"You bribed no one. You used your powers."

"My powers?" I frown at him and concentrate on my telepathy magic. I might need those tendrils of red really soon. Already, I can glimpse Talan's own magic, brushes of energy that threaten to tighten around my skull, to send me into a waking nightmare. His magic is like a silken caress that turns sharp as a serpent's tooth, prodding at my mind. I try to block him out with my mental veil, but I feel like it's about to shatter.

He closes the distance between us, staring down at me from beneath his long eyelashes. "I'm getting impatient, Nia. I saw the threads of your powers in that guard's mind. You were controlling him."

"Mind control? Impossible. Primal powers are long gone from this world, and even if they existed, they would belong to someone powerful. Important. Not to someone like me."

Lightning flashes outside, and it glints off his dark eyes. "Except I can see that you are more than you pretend to be."

Fuck.

"I tire of this game," he says with an indifferent sigh. "Fortunately, no one lies to me in the dream realm."

Talan's silky powers tighten around me, enveloping me in a shroud. I have a sliver of a second to react before he enters my mind. I lash at the tendrils of his power with my Sentinel energy, and his eyes widen with surprise, a line forming between his brows. Gritting my teeth, I dive in with both my powers, intent on breaking his mind, but searing pain rips through my skull.

His magic wraps around him, a protective barrier. Then it slides around me again, and it starts to probe. I stumble back, breathing hard, heart hammering. Panic drags its claws through my chest. Out of ideas, I turn and run for the stairwell. One step, two steps?—

But Talan moves in a blur, fast as lightning, and is already between me and the stairs. He grabs me by the throat and the waist, whirls me around, and flattens me against the wall. He has me pinned now, helpless, and my pulse races.

His thumb gently brushes over my throat, and his magic slips around my body, snaking up toward my mind. His dark eyes gleam. He's intent on wrapping me in a waking nightmare, but my own power cracks and lashes like a whip, refusing to let him get a grip on my mind.

Then, all of a sudden, he lets his magic fall away, though he doesn't release his grip on my waist and throat.

"There it is." A deep whisper that reverberates over me. "That's the power I was talking about."

My fingers tighten into fists. I've managed to hold him off from entering my mind, and he's not putting any pressure on my throat. In fact, though he swiftly pressed me against the wall, he did it without hurting me. Still, I have no doubt he can snap my neck like a twig. I'm completely in his control right now.

"Let's try this again," Talan says. "How did you enter the fortress?"

"I…" My throat is dry. "I used my powers on the guards at the front gate. I made them think I had an invitation."

He leans closer, and my gaze dips down to his full, sensual lips for just a moment.

"Good," he whispers. "Let the real Nia out. You are more powerful than a typical telepath. You have mind control powers. A primal power. You don't look like a threat, but someone would be stupid to underestimate you. Tell me, am I right about that?"

There's a haunting quality to his voice that shivers over my skin.

"My magic is weak. I can hardly make anyone do anything. I have to touch people to use it. And it fades quickly—otherwise, I would've used mind control to make Lumos bring me a bag of gold."

"Where are you from, Nia?"

"From a farm on Lauron."

Lauron is a small Brocéliande village, about forty miles from Auberon's fortress. It's tiny enough that I feel confident that Talan doesn't know the people there. More importantly, Cadoc's brother lives there, and Cadoc's memories of his recent visit are still fresh in my mind.

Talan still has me pinned against the wall. "Really?" he says. "I hunted in the area once. There was a feast in the evening in the town square. I remember they served a roasted wild boar. But I don't recall seeing you. I daresay I would have remembered your face."

During Cadoc's visit, his brother recounted the dinner with the prince endlessly. "I was there, of course. But you might be misremembering that day. The feast was in the afternoon. And we didn't serve boar—we cooked the stag that you hunted down. I picked the herbs to season it from my family's garden. I just don't like being the center of attention, that's all. Are you happy now? Can I go?"

He stares at me for a long while. I'm acutely aware of his touch, the heat from his hands radiating through the fabric of my dress and warming my throat. Then he nods and releases his grip on me.

That was a test, and I passed. He believes me.

"How come no one has heard about this until now?" he says. "A Fey with a primal power? Surely the king would have taken interest."

"Attention from powerful people isn't necessarily a good thing for a commoner like me."

"Interesting. And you think the king might do something to you if he found out about your powers?" His deep, rich voice vibrates through my ribs.

"Perhaps. And who knows about his advisors?"

"Quite true. Or his bloodthirsty son." He steps back. "Well, Nia, I have good news and bad news."

I exhale slowly. "Yes?"

"The bad news? I'm afraid you won't see Lumos tonight. He has another woman over that he promised money to. Or rather, he's bent over another woman that he promised money to."

My jaw drops in feigned horror. "Is that what he wanted from me?"

"But the good news is, I can pay your rent." He flashes me a smile, and his face transforms in a way I hadn't quite anticipated—so shockingly beautiful and disarming, I nearly forget what a monster he is. "As a prince, I would be more than happy to pay the rent of my chief mistress. My maitresse-en-titre, my official courtesan. You."

I stare at him. "What are you talking about?"

His eyes flash. "It's quite simple. I'm in need of a mistress. And here you are."

As I stare up at his looming form, the realization sinks in. Cadoc was right. Talan is completely unhinged.

"I'm not going to be your mistress. You've got to be joking."

"It seems like fate, Nia. You've broken into our castle at a perfect time because I was really enjoying myself in the human realm, in my Chateau des Rêves, and then I was ordered back here. My father demands that I marry Countess Arwenna de Bosclair of Val Sans Retour . Her family is rich, and the coffers in our treasury are empty since he invaded France. We are flat broke. Apparently, the countess is the answer to all his problems, but I don't want to marry her."

"Why not?"

He narrows his eyes. "Tell me, do I seem like the marrying type to you? I don't want to live in this bleak castle. I belong in the Chateau des Rêves, enjoying myself with whomever I want. But if I publicly introduce a new mistress, it will humiliate the countess enough to delay the wedding plans. Really, it's an old tradition here in Corbinelle, and my father himself has gone through many maitresses-en-titre. Most of them ended up dead." He shrugs. "A new mistress will be enough scandal to throw the wedding into question. Her family will not want their daughter to marry while I'm so publicly entangled with a glorified whore, especially one from such meager provenance. And here you show up, the answer to all my problems."

I stare at him, breathing hard. Gods, he's truly an asshole. But this isn't the whole story. "You're leaving something out. There are any number of people who could be your glorified whore. Why me?"

His dark eyes grow half-lidded, bored. He looks down, toying with one of the rings on his fingers. "What a wonderful gift. A farm girl no one here really knows, possessing a power that no one would suspect. A power that I could very much use to my advantage." He looks up again, and his gaze sharpens on me. "I suspect you know little of court life, but a favored maitresse-en-titre can wield a considerable amount of influence. Not that you would actually wield influence, but you will wield my influence over others, and that is very appealing to me, indeed. It's also surely a better life than scrambling for half-rotten potatoes in the dirt, yes?"

Except that I fucking hate him, and I'm not sure I can mask it after seeing Raphael.

Then again, I haven't managed to mask it so far, and my instinct tells me that has him intrigued. He's used to people leaping at his offers, and refusing him might raise me in his estimation.

"I'm not going to be your mistress, and you should find someone else. You have a ruthless reputation, and these few minutes with you have done nothing to dispel it. Frankly, I'd rather light myself on fire in the courtyard than be the whore of a hedonist prince."

A dark smile curls his lips. "What a coincidence. That is actually an option if you defy me. What would you prefer, really, Nia—living as my mistress, or burning to death outside?"

He goes very still, studying me closely, and his attention sharpens on me like a knifepoint. I don't think he expected to be turned down, but my refusal has piqued both his curiosity and his rage.

"Being a mistress would ruin my reputation," I say.

He lets out a sharp breath. " What reputation? For someone like you, a little rustic of pitiable peasant stock, getting fucked by the prince is the greatest honor you could hope for. But I'm not even ordering you to be a real mistress. I'm ordering you to fake it. And in return, you are elevated far above the station that the gods chose for you. The mistress of a handsome prince. You'll have proximity to the throne, to real power—and all you have to do is everything I say." His voice is a low rumble that blends into the sound of thunder.

My breath goes shallow. The shocking arrogance of this guy. "Proximity to power, without actually having any. What a gift."

"No, you won't have power. But you will have the appearance of it, which is more than you have now. And I get what I need—power over my father. Politically speaking, and likely otherwise, you're worthless. But you can manipulate minds in a more straightforward manner than my own magic. I can bend people's dreams, but you can bend their will while they are awake. With you under my command, I can force the council of nobles to ally with me against my father."

My blood pounds hard. He wants to rebel against his father? "And would people believe that you'd choose a mistress from pitiable peasant stock, since you are so obviously contemptuous of people like me?"

He shakes his head slowly. "I've been known to shock the court with outrageous decisions."

"Why would you want to rebel against your father?"

"That's not any of your concern. You are my subject and will do what I say. Even if I tell you to light yourself on fire in the courtyard, which is increasingly tempting. But if you must know, my father has small dreams and wastes time. He squabbles in a war with the humans, emptying our treasury." He shrugs slowly. "Why not get rid of the human problem once and for all? Why not take everything they have?"

My blood turns to ice at the thought of his solution for the "human problem." I'd heard about everything he'd done when he invaded Brittany—a massacre. The streets running with blood, cities echoing with screams. The man didn't just manipulate nightmares. The man was a nightmare.

"You want to kill all the humans?" I ask.

"Why not?" he says casually. "And the half-breeds, too. Why spend every last piece of gold on the human problem when I could just end it?"

I restrain myself from lunging at him and trying to bash his head against the wall. "Oh. So, you are as bad as they say."

"And what else do they say about me?" he asks, his voice icy.

I hold his gaze. "That you torture people for fun while drinking champagne. That even your father thinks you're too murderous and unhinged to trust with any real power after what you did in Brittany."

His eyebrows rise, and he leans against the wall. "Is that right? Champagne and a torture show. I must say, it sounds like quite an evening."

In his thoughts that I'd overheard, he seemed mostly a pleasure-seeker. But at other times, I'd heard his thoughts as he fought ferociously, carving through the bodies of his enemies.

I narrow my eyes. "You have everything you want. A palace. Servants. Any woman or man you could possibly desire. Why spend your days slaughtering people instead of enjoying life?"

"You're quite imperious for a runt-sized pig farmer, do you know that?"

"I didn't say it was pigs."

"But it is, though, isn't it?"

I swallow. "There are pigs, yes."

"How many did you manage to keep through the famine? Two? Three?"

"A few."

"In any case, you just said it yourself, little intruder. Why spend my days slaughtering people when I could do anything I want? Maybe that is what I want."

He lifts a finger to his lips, his face suddenly alert. Now, it's much quieter around us. The storm outside has finally calmed, and the music has gone silent.

"The banquet is over," he says. "I should make an appearance. And you can't be seen here. If any other guards find you in the palace right now, there are bound to be questions. We need to make you look as harmless as possible. Return home. I'll go on another hunting trip to Lauron within a few days. There, we will meet by accident and fall madly in love by your pig farm."

Return home.

I exhale with relief. I can't believe my luck. He's letting me go ? I nod. "Fine."

He arches a dark eyebrow. "I can see your mind running. Wondering how you should handle this. So, let me clarify. There's only one way. My way. If you think you can disappear, I'll remind you who I am. I'm Prince Talan de Morgan, the Dream Stalker, the man who tortures people for fun. I can find any soul in Brocéliande when they close their eyes. And unless you intend to remain eternally awake, I will always find you. Don't make me chase you, Nia. You won't enjoy what I'll do when I find you."

Lucky for me, I don't live in Brocéliande. As soon as I'm out of his sight, I'm leaving through the portal, back to Avalon.

Shadows slide through his eyes. "Remember that I know your secret. You're right about one thing. A villager with mind control powers? King Auberon would view it as a threat. We all would," he says, his voice darkly melodic.

"I understand. I'll be waiting for you in Lauron."

He gestures at the stairwell. "That's where you were going, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"Good. I assume you won't have any problem leaving the same way. You seem capable enough. I will see you soon."

Like fuck you will . "I'll be waiting."

I step into the cold stairwell, my heart still thrumming in my chest. I cannot believe how perfectly that worked out. I break into a run down the stairs, fleeing toward freedom.