Meeting a temporary dead end, we decided to hold our discussion for another time. Kris had to get back to her parents and Domenico, and, with even more things weighing on my mind now, all I wanted was to go home and get some rest.

Kris gave me a tight hug then walked us to the front door. “Call me if you need anything, Ave. Even if you can’t sleep, just pick up the phone and I’ll rush to you with chocolate chip cookies and warm milk, okay?”

“I might take you up on the offer.”

As we stepped out of the indigo-blue door, I noticed the red door across the hall; it was the same as the one in my dream from my first night of the Gathering. Turning to Vlad, I pointed to it and asked, “Where does that door lead?”

“The queen’s residence.”

Now that the door was in front of me, and very much real—not just a dream—I couldn’t help but wonder how many other parts of the dream were also real. “Is there another set of doors beyond it—for each Pure Royal family?”

That got his full attention. “How did you know?” He knitted his brows as he asked.

“Just a guess.” I paused and chose my words carefully. I was sure it would freak him out if I told him about the dream. “Tell me about them.”

Vlad looked at me a little curiously but obliged. “There’s a door to represent each of the Pure Royal families: Christoulakis, Ambrosia, and Stavros.”

“Zeus, Poseidon, Hades.”

“Exactly. Legend has it that each door accesses each god’s realm. One to the sky realm, one to the sea, and the third to the Underworld. Practically speaking, it’s where Pure Royal families keep their artifacts and sacred offerings to the gods. Well, where the Ambrosia and Christoulakis families do. Of course, the Stavros door hasn’t been used in a long time.”

I could see them perfectly, the doors from my dream—the doors that actually existed. How had I known?

Soon, we arrived back in front of my door at the Hyped, where I punched in the code on the keypad and started to swing the door open. Vlad put one hand on my shoulder and let the door close again. “What is it?”

“I don’t mean to babysit you. It’s not that I don’t think you can take care of yourself. I know you can. I’ve seen how strong you can be over the last few days. But I could never forgive myself if anything happened to you. And I don’t want to take any chances. You can hate me for being ridiculously stubborn. I’d rather be hated than see you hurt.”