Selene turned toward the figure, but it disappeared in a gust of smoke, only to appear again in the corner of her eye. Always there, waiting. Watching her.

The dream changed. Selene stood on a high cliff within the Magyr Mountains. The sun was setting, a deep ball of red across the mountain horizon. Bitter cold wind sliced through her clothing. She looked down. Her toes were lined up with the stony edge, and past the rim, hundreds of feet below, were jagged rocks and pine trees. Everything inside of her urged her to take that one last step.

Take it. Take it and end the heartache inside. . . .

Selene gasped and her eyes flew open. It took her a moment to realize she was no longer in the dreamscape. She stared up at the sky and clutched the wool blanket between her fingers. The cool night air froze her face as her heart thrummed inside her chest. Nearby, the fire had burned down to coals. Four figures lay around the campsite, and a fifth—Karl, perhaps—sat in the shadows, watching.

More nightmares. Dreamscapes she had visited while training, the fears and secrets of the servants of Rook Castle. But now there was a shadow in the background, a figure draped in black, watching her.

Why? Her face scrunched up, and she pressed her lips together. Was the Dark Lady punishing her for forsaking House Ravenwood?

But I left for the sake of our house. The cycle of hatred and murder needs to be broken. We can’t keep going on like this.

Selene squeezed her eyes shut. Apart from her rapidly beating heart, her chest felt hollow. Beneath her eyelids, her eyes burned with tears. I just want to sleep. Just one night of peace.

But no peace came.

Every time she started to drift off, the dreams and the shadow returned. The wolves from Hagatha’s memories and the fire from Petur’s. Each dream she had ever entered.

A half hour later, she rolled onto her side. The hard ground made her hip ache, so she rolled onto her other side. A rock jabbed into her thigh and the cold air seeped down her neck.

A couple of feet away, the man closest to her breathed softly in slumber. Damien.

He lay on his side, his back to her, with his arm tucked under his head. Selene stared at his back and listened to him breathe. There was something calming about his presence.

Her eyes slowly closed. She breathed in the earthy scent of the forest, smelling hints of pine and smoke. A horse neighed, and one of the other men began to snore.

She snuggled down again, finding the right spot on the ground where there were no rocks, and let out a long breath. She slowly drifted off. . . .

And woke up with a start as an image of Renata’s captor stood at the edge of her mind.

No, no, no!

Selene rolled onto her back. “Why is this happening?” she whispered. Only the subtle sound of snoring and the soft hoot of an owl answered her. Exhausted, her body finally took over and placed her under.