She was never one for patience. Selene had always been the patient one. It took everything inside of her to stand there and wait for her opportunity.

Damien bid someone good night, and she heard a door close. A candle provided light within. He sighed, and she could hear him pacing. A trickle of sweat dripped down the side of her face. What was he doing? Was he waiting for her sister to come back?

Did they share a room?

Amara swore inside her head. Most lords and ladies had separate rooms, but there were the occasional couples who shared. This could complicate things.

Finally, the light went out, and there was a soft thump, then silence. She hesitated. She could hardly see anything, but that also meant no one would see her either.

Her heart beat faster as adrenaline filled her body.

Amara glanced inside the room. The tiniest slip of light shone beneath the door, but not enough to illuminate the room. She could barely make out a body on the bed, on the side opposite the door.

She leaned against the wall and figured out her course of action. In a few more minutes, she would move in, then find a place to make skin contact and enter his dreams.

Time ticked by as everything that could go wrong flew through her mind. Selene could come in, or one of his guards. Or she wouldn’t have time to figure out his nightmares. Maybe she wasn’t strong enough.

She could fail.

She clenched her hand. Failure was not an option.

Amara slipped into the room, silent as the night itself. She followed the wall along the right, then the next wall, until she reached the bed. Selene and her mother might be more powerful than she was, but she had worked hard and her power was at least sufficient enough for this task. And what she lacked in power she more than made up for in stubbornness, something her mother had noted during their dreamwalks together. She would hold on to her target until she had accomplished her mission. Tonight would be no different.

She knelt beside the bed opposite of the main door. She could hear Lord Damien’s breathing, steady and soft. Perfect. The bit of light from one of the side doors let her see where his hand lay across the mattress. Slowly, carefully, she reached for his wrist and made contact.

Nothing happened. It was like there was an invisible wall along the barrier of his dreamscape.

Amara closed her eyes and focused on where her fingers met his wrist.

Still nothing.

Cold sweat poured across her body. Dart’an! What did this mean? Mother had spoken of powerful dreamscapes that were difficult to enter. Was his one of those?

Her chest tightened, and she pressed her lips together. No! I can’t fail! I won’t fail. For Opheliana’s sake.

Amara drew upon every ounce of her power inside her and pressed against his mind. Harder. Harder.