Damien.

She let out her breath and slumped forward. It was just a dream. A really bad dream. She lay back down and curled up on her other side. Damien continued to sleep on, apparently unfazed by her sudden awakening. Good. The last thing she wanted now was for him to wake up to every little noise she made. Her experience during her reconnaissance missions was that he was a heavy sleeper.

Selene yawned and snuggled down deep beneath the blanket. Sleep pulled her back under.

A woman wailed beside a burning pyre, beating her chest with her fists as embers shot into the night sky. Fire turned into a dark cabin where a small girl stood crying in the corner, her face gaunt with hunger. The cabin and girl disappeared. Trees as tall as the castle walls surrounded her, and on the path between them lay a red-haired man, his throat ripped open—

Her eyes flew open, her heart racing inside her chest. Selene rolled onto her back and stared up at the thatch ceiling. Faint light from a nearby window indicated morning was quickly approaching.

She recognized the dead man from her dream. Hagatha’s father. And she could remember the other dreams, all of them from servants at Rook Castle. But why was she dreaming about them now? She’d never relived anyone else’s dreamscape before.

Damien shifted.

Selene quickly rolled onto her side and squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe she could find a little more rest before she had to wake up for the day.

But sleep never came. Only image after image of previous dreamscapes. She curled into a tighter ball, her body so tired she never wanted to leave the sleeping mat. But her mind would not let her drift off.

She heard Damien move as the first rays of light entered the window and shone across the far wall. Too late. Day was already here. A day that would be filled with more traveling.

She pressed her lips together and swallowed hard. Then, drawing on all of her strength, she opened her eyes and sat up. Her body felt heavy and slow, and her eyes were dry and scratchy.

“Sleep well?” a tenor voice asked.

She gripped the blanket between her fingers and stared down. “I’m afraid I don’t sleep well in new places.” Maybe that’s what was causing the nightmares.

“My brother was the same way.”

Selene looked over at Damien. He was kneeling down beside the hearth, folding the quilt he had slept on. “Your brother?”

“Yes.” He glanced over. “Quinn hated traveling and could never sleep anywhere but in his own bed.” He chuckled and stood, but Selene didn’t miss the way his eyes shifted and lost their spark.

She vaguely remembered seeing three caskets sent out to sea in Damien’s memories and hearing her father speak of another son of House Maris. “My father told me of your loss.”

He sighed. “It was almost two years ago. I wish I’d had more time with him.”