Page 17 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
I need to get out of here.
“I’m going to bed,” I announced too quickly, pushing back my chair with a screech.
Rankor and Kent both shot me looks of confusion.
“Okay?” Rankor drew out the word.
Kent stood, brushing off his pants as he did. “Let me walk you out.”
I nodded my thanks, and he guided me to the door with a respectful hand on the small of my back, stopping in the hallway once we were out of Rankor’s earshot.
“Don’t worry about the trial,” he said softly, rubbing a hand supportively along my shoulder. “You’re going to be fine.”
“Right. Yeah.” I forced a smile beforebacking away. “Thanks.”
“Thea,” he called after me sharply, and I turned back.
His expression was unreadable. Too careful. Too knowing.
“Is there anything else that has you upset? You seem off lately.”
A shiver ran down my spine. There was a myriad of things that had me upset, and I couldn’t talk to him about a single one.
I shook my head. “No, of course not. Just pre-trial jitters. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”
No.
I don’t want to be here.
Music seeped through the realm, dark and melodic. The same grating chords he always played. The melody was maddeningly short and repetitive. I hated it.
I hated his music.
I hated this place.
I hated him.
Did he know I was here? Did he know I was standing at the edge of his river? I didn’t even know how far his magic extended. Was he all-knowing here in this realm? It seemed ridiculous to think that I could avoid him here in the realm he had total dominion over.
In the distance, a low howl pierced the air, then another, and another. Hyrax’s three-headed hound howled for him, and panic overtook me. Spinning on my heel, I broke into a desperate sprint. I didn’t know where I was going; I just knew I couldn’t stay here, couldn’t face him.
I couldn’t be the one to release him back into the Mortal Realm.
I wouldn’t be.
“Wake up!” I screamed desperately at myself.
Something wasn’t right.
The air was too cold. A sharp chill bit at my skin. Winter drafts had begun creeping over the mountains lately, but I always closed my windows before bed. After this past year – after everything I’d been through – I had developed a careful ritual before bed. One that included no unlocked doors and no open windows.
I reached for the blanket, still half-caught in the haze of sleep, but instead of finding the familiar weight of my quilt, my arm bumped into something hard. Solid. I opened my eyes, and absolute darkness filled my vision. I froze, breath stuttering in my throat, every nerve in my body on edge.
Something was wrong.
Verywrong.
I pushed at the space around me, frantic, and my fingers scraped against the smooth wood. Walls. A ceiling? No, it was too close for that. My chest tightened, my breaths shallow and sharp. This wasn’t my bed.
