The countess entered the hall next, to my shock. She wore an ink-black dress with a fur draped diagonally across her body, cinched tightly at her waist with a belt of gold. A dagger was sheathed at her hip. I wondered why she was there—she was a magician, but not a warden—and I made my way over to Phelan’s side after Lennox had vacated their table.

“Your mother is planning to fight tonight?” I asked.

“She plans to watch,” Phelan replied. “But your—” He caught himself, clearing his throat. “Mr. Madigan is joining us, I see.”

“Yes,” I said, keeping my voice low. “I hear he was once a great warden.”

“I believe he still is,” Phelan said gently.

“Phelan,” I whispered, and I wanted to ask if he would claim the chair should the dream break tonight. He was the hope of the mountains, because Olivette and Nura didn’t desire it, and Lennox was crooked in heart, and I was full of contradictions and lies. But I lost my courage; the words wilted within me.

He waited, but his mother approached us, and the moment was lost.

“Ah, I am glad to see you here tonight, Anna,” the countess said.

“Yes, Lady Raven,” I replied. “I’m ready to fight beside Phelan, per usual.”

She smiled, but the warmth failed to reach her eyes. “May I have a word with you, my son? Over here with your brother?”

Phelan released a soft sigh, one that I knew expressed his reluctance, but he accompanied his mother back across the hall to where Lennox stood.

I took note of the three of them, plotting in a shadowy corner. My father, who walked the aisle alone. And then there was me, caught between the two, full of hope and doubt and plans of my own.

The night arrived at last. The shadows in the hall sweetened until the multiple hearths ignited with enchanted flame, casting streams of light across the floor.

It took a while for the throne to materialize on the dais. But once it appeared, Emrys arrived to stand beside it like a magistrate at court, and the nightmare was not long to follow.

I watched the hall shift, molting its tables and benches and heraldic banners. The floors rippled into white marble with threads of blue; the timber beams in the ceiling sank to become arched and coffered. Chandeliers bloomed, glittering with silver leaves and candles.

I recognized this place. It was the ballroom at the countess’s mansion in Endellion.

I glanced across the way to look at Lady Raven. Her face was stark, her eyes wide with dread.

This was one of her dreams.

I hung back at its edge and watched.