Dreamweaver: Dreamwalker, #4

By Angela Wallace

Book Four, The epic conclusion to the Dreamwalker saga.

With her father in a coma, Princess Taryn tries to hold her kingdom together in the midst of crisis. Soulless raider ships ravage the coast, and the sleeping sickness is spreading as people are snatched from their dreams. Taryn wants to confront the mysterious evil in the dreamscape, but she's got her hands full with problems in the waking world.

Duke Garth is trying to wrest control from her, and the insufferable Prince Fenir still wants to marry her. Yet when the prince saves her life, Taryn discovers a whole other side to the young man from the North. Could she learn to accept an arranged marriage, especially when her kingdom is desperate for help?

As Taryn wrestles with limited options, the enemy moves his final pieces into place, unleashing a horror no one could have imagined. Lexa is lost in the dreamscape, and Taryn finds herself alone, pitted against an unearthly invader. In a battle to save both the dreamscape and waking world, she may have to sacrifice everything she holds dear.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Angela Wallace
• Release date: Nov 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9798227556301

Angela Wallace

Angela Wallace has been penning adventures ever since she was sucked through a magical portal as a child. What she saw and whom she met gave birth to exciting and complex fantasy worlds where defying the laws of physics was a bonus. She has since come back down to earth, only to discover this mortal realm has magic of its own. Now she is quite at home in the world of urban fantasy, though believes that love, faith, and hope are of a stronger magic than fire wielding and sorcery. She loves gun-toting good boys, and could have been a cop in another life except real blood makes her queasy. She'll have to stick to solving supernatural mysteries. Language is her pleasure, whether it's weaving words on a page or lassoing linguistics into translations as a sign language interpreter.

Book preview

Part One

​I

​A brisk headwind whipped over the prow and twisted invisible fingers through Taryn’s jet-black hair. The gale flung wild strands across her eyes, mocking her feeble attempts to hold them down so she could see. Toland Castle loomed up on the coast like a spiked tortoise spearing the sky with assorted towers. Home.

After four days of sailing, the Snipe was almost there. And then came this headwind throwing itself against their progress at the last mile. Taryn didn’t know whether to feel impatient or relieved. She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the afternoon sun and squinted at the central tower of the castle where the king’s private chambers were located—where her father lay in a coma.

It’d been two weeks since Taryn ran off to chase down a raider ship without telling anyone. She’d claimed it’d been to solve the problem that had been plaguing her country’s coast for weeks, but in truth it had been a tantrum, a frustrated response to the pompous lords trying to outbid each other for her hand in marriage. They didn’t care about her, didn’t care that she had years of education and could participate in political conversations, that she was a capable warrior and one of the best archers in Toland—no, they saw her as a trophy, a means to an end. As much as she feared seeing her father in a coma, Taryn worried whether those lords were waiting for her inside the castle walls as well.

The Snipe angled into port. Though home of the royal family, Toland village was only a small fishing town, primarily self-sufficient with maintaining the castle a quarter mile up the road. It was a quiet residence on the seaside. Beyond the keep, the land rose into steep cliffs that plateaued in a meadow before plunging into thick woods. Up on the precipice above frothing waves, a herd of nubok grazed. Glossy black coats shone in the sun against stark white chests. Antlers crowned their heads like branches of obsidian lightning. Long tails with arrowhead shaped barbs flicked back and forth, perhaps swatting at bees. The nubok stag was the emblem of Toland’s house—proud, strong creatures. What omen was their presence on the cliffs meant to signify? To bolster Taryn’s courage, or condemn her for running away?

Though it was a warm spring day, the village was unusually quiet. Taryn couldn’t see anyone out and about from her vantage point. Several yards up the shore sat the Navarro, Neil Duram’s merchant ship. It had almost been destroyed after an encounter with the raider ship. When Taryn had left two weeks ago, men had been working on clearing the debris and repairing the hull. Now a new mast held the ship upright, though work appeared to have stopped. As with the rest of the village, fear of the sleeping sickness kept people hiding indoors.

Sailors moved the gangplank into place as the ship slowed to a stop along the dock. The head of Taryn’s personal guard stepped up to her shoulder, his six foot two towering over her five foot seven. Sepia-brown hair curled around his ears, extending down into sideburns and a trimmed beard.

The captain has sent word to the rest of the fleet to rendezvous in pairs; no ship sails alone, Shepard informed her.

Taryn nodded. Two ships had gone missing in the past several weeks, one of which had resurfaced with a crew turned into mindless, ravenous marauders. With no idea how it happened or how to protect against it, they couldn’t afford to leave ships out there as targets.

The remainder of her guard—Brutus, Danes, and Kaleb—joined Shepard and followed as she disembarked from the Snipe.

Movement from the other ship caught Taryn’s eye as Neil emerged from the captain’s cabin. He jogged down the ramp to a makeshift dock and over to meet them. Bushy brown hair stuck out at odd ends and dark circles rimmed hazel-blue eyes. He hadn’t shaved in a few days.

Your Highness. Neil swept his gaze over her shoulder toward the deck and furrowed his brow. Where’s Lexa?

She went to the Haven for help. We were in Nurin when I got the message… Taryn swallowed. About my father.

Neil’s frown deepened. She went alone?

No, she joined an Artasian ship.

He ran a hand over his scratchy chin. I haven’t heard from her in a week.

Taryn scuffed her foot on the dock, catching a splinter in the toe of her tread. The cords started following her into people’s dreams, so we agreed to break off all dream contact.

As dreamwalkers, Taryn and Lexa had the rare ability to enter an otherworldly realm called the dreamscape, and from there they could step into dreaming minds. Taryn had stumbled into the ability when she was twelve, and since Lexa was the only other known dreamwalker, the ex-Artasian soldier had come to Teltania to train her. It had been just the two of them for the past five years, but now there might be someone else, someone using the dreamscape for evil.

Though the comas had started as possible poisonings from raider attacks, Lexa and Taryn had discovered that strange cords in the dreamscape were snatching people from their minds. So far, neither dreamwalker had been able to stop them or find where the people had been taken. The victims’ physical bodies remained alive, under some kind of spell since they suffered no physical deterioration. And in the past week, those magical comas had begun spreading like a plague. Taryn would still be with Lexa hunting down answers if her father hadn’t succumbed to the sleeping sickness. Now the duty of ruling the kingdom fell to her.

Taryn cleared her throat. How is my father?

Neil’s gaze turned sympathetic. The same as everyone else. No one has died yet.

She’d expected as much, though it didn’t allay her worry. Are the dukes still here? The castle had been crowded with visiting lords who’d come to celebrate her eighteenth birthday. Taryn hadn’t expected the date to open the floodgates to marriage proposals, and she’d hoped that by taking off, the dukes would give up and go home.

Most of them, he replied.

So much for that plan.

Lady Renee fell into a coma four days ago, so Duke Armand packed up his family and returned home. Duke Rinaldo also fled back to Sor Dalgo. Maybe they thought they’d be safe in the central duchies, though with the way this sleeping sickness is spreading, it could eventually reach there.

Taryn’s stomach knotted. So Dukes Garth, Salazar, and Conrad are still here? Great, her three least favorite lords.

Neil nodded. Yes, but Salazar is also in a coma. Garth has been running things. I’m sure he would have kicked Prince Fenir out if some of his men hadn’t also fallen ill. Trekking a group of sick across Teltania could spread the disease quicker, which Garth won’t risk.

Her mouth went dry. Prince Fenir is still here? Okay, there was one person she dreaded more than the three dukes. Of all the marriage proposals, Fenir’s had come as a complete surprise, a prince out of the wild North that Teltania had little contact with. Taryn’s father had been interested in Vale’s superior weapons made from dragon scales, and deemed Fenir’s age of twenty-one a better match than thirty-year-old Garth.

Though awkward and incessant with superfluous flattery, Taryn thought she could’ve given the young prince a chance. Until he declared the two of them were destined to give birth to a mighty dreamwalker who would rule the world. Fenir turned out to be just like everyone else: he only wanted to use her. It wasn’t long after that Taryn had boarded the Snipe and sailed away. She’d hoped to escape her problems, but should have known better. Now, Taryn turned her gaze to the castle. The strong wind buffeted against her, like a warning urging her to turn back. But she couldn’t put it off any longer.

I’ll walk you, Neil said softly.

Taryn’s four guards flanked them as they headed up the road. The village wasn’t as deserted as she originally thought, for a few people went about their daily work. The blacksmith’s rang with the clanging of metal up one street. Curtains fluttered in windows and doors creaked as people peeked out to witness Taryn’s return. What did they think of their princess? If only she’d been able to find answers, then she wouldn’t feel so defeated slogging back home now.

Neil cleared his throat. An emissary from Artasia is here as well.

Taryn frowned. Oh, right. Lexa mentioned a Councilman was on his way about the assassin. An old man had infiltrated Taryn’s birthday party and tried to kill her. Perhaps she should have been more concerned about it, but Lexa had killed him, and no one else had tried to finish the job since. What did it say about Taryn that she’d been more worried about marriage contracts than murder ones?

Was the assassin from Artasia? she asked. Though she had no idea why the neighboring country would want her dead, the investigation had led there.

Mathias didn’t recognize him. Neil shook his head. Sorry, Councilman Mathias. Listen, he’s being detained.

Detained where?

Here.

Taryn shot him a confused look.

Duke Garth has him under house arrest after they heard that an Artasian ship attacked Tralin. Neil’s jaw tightened. I know I have no right to ask, but Mathias is a friend. He came here on good faith and doesn’t deserve to be treated this way. Neil was from Artasia, as was Lexa before she came to live at Toland to train Taryn. If Neil trusted the Councilman, then perhaps Taryn could believe whatever he had to say about the assassin, though at this point that was the last thing on her mind.

I’ll fix it, she said.

Thank you.

They fell silent for the rest of the walk to the castle. The closer they got, the more anxious Taryn felt, and she quickened her pace. Unlike the town, the bailey inside the castle walls was busy with servants going about chores, though it was obvious that the number of staff had decreased by at least one-third. Everyone stopped to stare at her, their mild-mannered princess, responsible and disciplined, home from a brash quest. Hopeful eyes met hers and she looked away.

The double oak doors of the main entrance groaned and swung open as a man pushed his way out onto the landing. The Steward of Toland was mostly bald, save for thinning salt and pepper hair around the sides and back of his head. He had a narrow goatee and mustache, also graying, that framed a mouth pressed into a tight line. His customary green jacket with slightly puffed shoulders was wrinkled, as though he hadn’t washed and pressed it in days.

Taryn came to a stop in the courtyard, not knowing what to say. Hector had been on the dock when she’d declared her intention to sail with the Snipe. He’d begged her not to go, and she’d dismissed him as though he were a common servant, and not the man who helped raise her.

Hector finally hobbled down the steps. His face melted into relief, and for a moment he forsook protocol and scooped her into a tight hug. Thank the heavens you’re safe.

Taryn hugged him back. I’m sorry, she whispered.

He stepped away and tugged his jacket down. Did you find anything?

She dropped her gaze. No. But Lexa is still looking.

The steward ran a hand over his face. Things are bleak, Your Highness. Duke Garth has declared himself lord of Toland while the king is ill.

Taryn lifted her chin, trying to look braver than she felt. Well, I’m here now. She hesitated. Hector, though I have no right to ask, will you do me a favor? Keep the lords at bay just a little longer. I’d like to see my father first.

Hector bowed his head. Of course.

She reached out and squeezed his arm. After dismissing her guards and thanking Neil, she headed for the kitchen door, using the servants’ corridor and taking back ways up to her father’s tower. She was relieved the dukes hadn’t been in the courtyard to meet her. Though she would have to face them, she needed to face this first.

Taryn climbed the stairs of the central tower to the fifth floor and her father’s chambers. The door stood closed, and she paused with her hand on the knob. The brass grew warm beneath her sweaty palm. She’d faced horrific monsters in the dreamscape without fear, yet now that she stood on the other side of seeing her father ill, she was paralyzed.

Taking a deep breath, Taryn pushed the door open. Rugs and animal skins covered the stone floor of the sitting room. A six-shelf bookcase stood against the wall to the right of the door. Across from it on the left wall was a hearth, and next to that a window with curtains hung wide open. Bright daylight spilled in, illuminating an upholstered chair against the far right corner with baskets of yarn around it. A half-finished blanket lay draped over the back of the chair.

Taryn’s breath hitched in her throat. She hadn’t been up here since her mother died, and for a moment it was like stepping back in time—her mother’s knitting sat untouched, ready for the Duchess to emerge and take them up again. Why hadn’t her father moved it?

She drifted her gaze toward the entry to the bedchamber and her pulse picked up. Her mother’s face flashed through her mind, an alabaster visage kissed by poison. Taryn swallowed. She couldn’t lose another parent.

Her legs felt like lead as she forced one foot forward, then the other, slogging toward the door. She stopped in the entryway. In a large bed, covered with multiple blankets, lay her father. His arms were laid out by his sides on top of the covers, which was just as bad as if they had been placed upon his chest in a burial pose, for he looked lifeless. His thick black hair lay lank and flat across his pillow. Though his brows weren’t pinched as they often were when awake, even this dreamless sleep couldn’t erase the worry lines that’d been permanently etched around his mouth and eyes.

Taryn’s breath hiccuped. He looked just as her mother did in death—peaceful, beautiful. Her fingers curled around the doorjamb as she stared at her father’s chest. After a long moment, she could finally see the subtle rise and fall of shallow breaths.

On the other side of the bed stood a nightstand with several bottles of smelling salts and oils. A young woman with a long black braid busied herself with recapping some of the vials, her back to the door.

Taryn cleared her throat. Amelia.

The handmaiden turned and gasped. Your Highness! The bottles clinked as she set them down and hurried around the foot of the bed. Were you and Lexa successful in finding a cure?

Taryn shook her head. Lexa is still searching.

Amelia’s face fell. Oh. Well, if anyone can solve this, Lexa can.

Yes, Lexa could fix things. Unlike Taryn. Every decision she’d made recently, no matter how good her intentions, had backfired. She nodded to her father. How is he?

The same as the others. He’s not in pain, Amelia quickly added. We’ve done our best to make him comfortable.

Taryn took a step closer to the bed. Her father was a young man, yet over the years he’d aged from the stresses of ruling a kingdom. Taryn had wanted to take on her share of responsibilities to ease that burden. Now, she would shoulder them all.

Could you give me a minute?

Amelia gave a short nod and swept past her. Taryn closed the last few feet to the edge of the bed and gazed down at her father. She’d been so angry with him for indulging the visiting lords seeking her hand in marriage. Everyone claimed the raiders were a significant threat, that they had to find a solution. Yet he’d refused to consider using Taryn’s dreamwalking—he never liked to talk about that subject. No, the only solution was marriage with the Prince of Vale in exchange for superior dragon scale weapons. She thought she’d show them all that wasn’t the only course of action, that she could stop the raiders without dreamwalking and without Vale’s weapons. But nothing had gone according to plan.

Her heart constricted at the thought of Carlos, one of her personal guard. She’d left him in Tralin after he’d fallen into a coma. He wouldn’t have taken the poisonous wound if she hadn’t gone off on that foolish errand. More than that, Taryn had tried to protect him by guarding his dreams, but she’d unwittingly laid out his mind and the others of the Snipe for the taking. And those black cords had come and snatched them all away.

Taryn sank into a chair by the bed and took her father’s hand. It felt like ice, as though blood had ceased to flow through his veins. Despite the deathly cold touch of his skin, he didn’t look ill. Some magical force in those dream snatching cords was keeping his body alive and well, but for what fell purpose, Taryn couldn’t guess. Tears welled in her eyes.

I’m sorry, she whispered. All I ever wanted was to make you proud. How disappointed you must be in me. Her voice cracked. But I’m back now, and I’m not leaving again, I promise. Just…please come back. Please forgive me. Tears trickled down her chin and dripped onto her father’s hand. I know I said I could handle things, but I’m not sure that’s true. What am I supposed to do?

Taryn dropped her forehead onto her hands and rocked as she cried. She wanted to go into the dreamscape and look for him. Even if she had to go all the way to the distant mountain to bring him back, she would just for a chance to make things right. But Taryn had promised Lexa she wouldn’t enter the dream world alone, and she didn’t think she could bear disappointing one more person. She could only wait for Lexa to contact her with answers. Then the two of them could stop this.

Eventually Taryn’s tears dried up and she pushed herself to her feet, wiping tear-plastered hair from her cheeks. She went into the bath chamber and splashed frigid water on her face; she couldn’t face the dukes looking like a sniveling girl. Her reflection caught in the mirror and Taryn flinched. A mass of tangles gave her a ragged appearance. She tried running her fingers through the knots, but they snagged and pulled at her scalp. Frustration brought fresh tears to her eyes and made her want to hit the wall or smash the mirror. She yanked her fingers free and patted down her unruly waves. Fine, forget appearances.

When she came back out, Taryn spared one last look at her father. She was ready for this; she had to be.

Amelia waited on the landing outside. What do you need?

Taryn pressed her lips together. Nothing for now, but stay close. She had too few friends she could count on right then. Taryn may have been home, but her keep had been overrun by wolves.

​II

​Taryn headed for the great hall on the first floor. The last time she met with the dukes, they’d treated her like a naive child, a pretty girl to be indulged and sheltered from the complex aspects of government. Now she was in charge, though she didn’t expect Garth to relinquish control without a fight.

As she approached the large doors, raised voices echoed from within. She paused outside and took a deep breath. You faced bloodthirsty raiders and monstrous Nightmares; you can face a bunch of pompous men.

Taryn pushed the door open and strode inside. The voices immediately silenced and four gazes turned toward her. Hector bowed his head, while Dukes Garth, Conrad, and Duchess Colette eyed her warily. Taryn tried to exude confidence as she marched to the foot of a long, rectangular table in the center of the room. Behind its other end was a dais, above which hung Toland’s house banner from the high ceiling to the floor. The giant rendering of the nubok stag puffed its chest out, proud and fierce. Taryn pulled her shoulders back.

Your Lordships, she said.

Princess Taryn, Garth replied. How good of you to return. His thin beard didn’t conceal the slight curl to his upper lip. With broad shoulders and leather-black hair untouched by gray, he appeared the most stalwart among them, a man eager to become king. Well, one good thing about Taryn being in charge: she could refuse his marriage proposal once and for all.

She lifted her chin. You’ve no doubt heard that the Snipe destroyed the raider ship that’d been attacking our coast. I wish I could say that brought an end to our problems, but things are worse than we initially supposed.

Duchess Colette snorted and looked down her sharp nose at Taryn. That, we can see.

We also heard of the Artasian ship that attacked Tralin, Garth spoke up. They’ve declared war and we must retaliate.

We will do no such thing, Taryn said. That Artasian vessel had been brainwashed by the raiders, turned into mindless killing agents.

Garth angled a skeptical brow. Brainwashing? More likely a cover story to distract us.

I was there and saw for myself. Besides, the same happened to one of our vessels, the Roark. Lexa and I caught up to it in Artasian waters and the crew was…they were no longer men.

Hector ran a hand over his mouth. Do you still have no idea what is behind this?

Taryn’s mouth pressed into a grim line. They had an idea, just nothing concrete. Yet. We do know that both the comatose and the brainwashed soldiers have all been taken into the dreamscape, but someone on the outside must be orchestrating this, so if we find them, we should be able to reverse things. In the meantime, I’ve ordered our fleet to rendezvous in pairs. No one sails alone and risks being caught and turned against us.

That is your only plan of action? Garth asked.

Taryn drew her shoulders back. Lexa is pursuing a lead. I should hear from her soon about what to do next.

The duke narrowed shrewd eyes. Where exactly is Lady Lexa?

She sailed on to Artasia to speak to some people who could help.

He nodded smugly. She’s run home, likely to rejoin her country before they launch a full-scale invasion.

Taryn gritted her teeth. I told you this isn’t Artasia’s doing. More likely a sorcerer is—

Sorcery! Conrad blurted. His cheeks flared red and he launched himself at Taryn, grabbing her by the front of her vest. Her yelp of surprise was drowned out by Colette’s shriek.

What did you do to my son? Dreamwalker witchcraft put him in that deep sleep. Take him out! Conrad shook Taryn, fingers clenched so tight his knuckles whitened.

Hector and Garth jumped in and tried to pull him off. Spittle from the mad duke’s mouth splattered Taryn’s cheek as he raged at her. Instinct from training drills with Lexa kicked in and she stomped on his instep. Hector wrenched Conrad’s fingers back until they released Taryn’s shirt and she staggered away.

Garth wrapped an arm across Conrad’s chest and yanked the older man’s arm behind his back. Compose yourself!

Taryn’s heart pounded in her chest, more from shock than fear. Wait, Cameron was in a coma too?

Conrad struggled against Garth’s hold, but the sixty-nine-year-old was no match for someone half his age.

Be calm, man, Garth urged. Or they’ll have no choice but to call the guards and seize you.

Conrad’s face seethed puce red and slaver dotted his beard, but after a few moments his breathing slowed and he relaxed. He gave a sharp shake and Garth released him.

My apologies, Your Highness, he ground out. I am…distraught over my son.

Taryn forced her breathing to slow. We are all worried, Your Lordship, but we can’t afford to lose our heads.

Duke Conrad has a point, Colette spoke up. She patted the side of her beehive hair as she regained her composure. Can you not use your dreamwalking to wake them up?

I tried, but was unsuccessful. That is why Lexa is searching for more information, so we will be better armed to confront this problem.

Then what good is that power? Colette turned her nose up. I don’t know what my husband thought you could accomplish.

Taryn bit back a snide retort. She would not be goaded into going after those cords on her own. No one has died; therefore, we still have time.

Garth took a step toward her, the lines of his face softening. You must be weary from your journey and overcome with grief for your father. I will see to these matters for you. He reached out a hand to brush her arm. The sleaze.

Taryn stepped back out of reach and lifted her chin. Thank you for looking after things while I was away, Your Lordship, but now that I am back, you may return to the care of your own duchy. It wasn’t an order to leave, nor did she think Garth would pack up that easily. Taryn turned to Hector. Now, I understand a Councilman from Artasia is being held under guard? I’d like to speak to him and apologize for the mistreatment.

He has in no way been ill treated, Garth interjected. Though with his nation declaring war, we had cause.

Taryn whirled on him. "You have no cause to speak on behalf of my duchy. He came here in good faith to help with the assassin mystery—"

And denied any knowledge of the man’s identity. Garth snorted. Quite helpful. More likely he’s a spy trying to gauge our reaction to their covert attempts at war.

Taryn clenched a fist, the urge to punch Garth coursing through her muscles. She shoved her hand behind her back; a princess didn’t strike those who irritated her.

Artasia has people in comas too. They are not our enemy, but victims as well.

We’ve had no reports of that.

Because whoever’s behind this has been smart enough to target our regions furthest from each other to keep us in the dark.

Garth rolled his eyes. Is that what Lady Lexa told you? Who exactly is running Teltania?

Taryn bristled. She was not a puppet, and she wouldn’t let Garth incite her into a childish argument. Reining in her temper, she turned to Conrad and Colette. I suggest you return to your loved ones. I’ll let you know when we have a concrete lead. With a nod to Hector, she spun and strode out the great hall with the steward on her heels.

Well done, he murmured at her ear.

For round one. Taryn had no illusions that Garth would give up easily, but neither would she.

Hector led her to where the Artasian Councilman had been sequestered. Taryn stiffened as they turned down a corridor toward the north wing—Prince Fenir and his men had been boarded in this section as well. Why hadn’t he returned home after Taryn sailed away? She’d made it clear they would never marry and she would never become pregnant with his dreamwalker baby. But had he packed up like a gracious loser? No. He’d merely apologized for his lack of tact and swore to win her heart through time and patience.

Taryn should have told her father. If he’d heard that Fenir wanted to breed dreamwalker warriors, he would’ve been furious and thrown the prince out. But Taryn hadn’t wanted to evoke such ire, for as angry as the king would have been with Fenir, some of it might also have been directed at Taryn. It wasn’t that her father hated her for being a dreamwalker; he just didn’t understand, and the subject was carefully avoided.

The people of Vale valued Taryn’s dreamwalking abilities, which had given her a glimmer of hope—perhaps an arranged marriage to someone who at least respected her wouldn’t be so bad. Until Fenir blurted out her value was in breeding stock. Taryn couldn’t win. Why couldn’t she find what Lexa had with Neil? A man who loved every part of her, and didn’t try to change her or take advantage of her powers.

Instead, Taryn got dukes wanting to marry into the royal family, and Fenir, the lunatic boy out of the wild spouting destinies. How was she going to face him again? And now that some of his men were sick and he was trapped in Toland, she was responsible for him.

Taryn quickened her pace. Luckily, the hall was empty save for two guards at the end in front of the last door on the left. They straightened at Taryn and Hector’s approach.

You’re dismissed, she said. Return to your normal duties. With sharp nods, the men strode away, and Taryn knocked on the door. After a moment with no answer, she pounded her fist again more forcefully.

The door swung inward, held by a man with mousy brown hair that hung over his ears. He had a muscular but thin build, and wore a simple black uniform with a blue armband on his upper left arm: the mark of an Artasian soldier.

He blinked at her in surprise. Uh, Your Highness?

Good afternoon. May we come in?

The man looked over her shoulder at Hector and stepped aside. It’s your castle. He glanced at the corridor again and furrowed his brow. No guards?

I apologize for that. It won’t happen again.

Tobiah! a voice shouted from the bedchamber. You can tell whoever it is that as long as we’re hostages, I will not cooperate.

The soldier—Tobiah—cleared his throat. It’s Princess Taryn.

Another man swept out from the back room, dressed in fitted pants and a dark blue button-down shirt with silver cuff links. The few top buttons were undone and the lapels pulled back under a towel draped across his neck. He had short, sandy-brown hair, half of it streaked with gray, and bore a trimmed goatee. His eyes widened when they landed on Taryn and he frantically sought to button up his shirt. As his fingers fumbled with the buttons, his hand knocked against the towel and he whisked it off, throwing it into the back room.

Princess Taryn. He tugged his shirt down. I was told you were with Lexa.

Councilman Mathias claims he spoke to Lexa in a dream shortly before he arrived, Hector added.

The councilman bristled.

Oh, right, Taryn said. Thank you for telling us about the Roark. She pursed her lips as she studied the man. Some of Lexa’s stories had featured him as a prominent character, yet now that he stood before her, he didn’t look much like Lexa had described him. Certainly not pudgy.

So you made it to Nurin? he asked. What did you find with the Teltan prisoners?

Hector cleared his throat. Perhaps we should begin with the reason you traveled to Toland.

Taryn shook herself. Right, she was in charge here, not this foreign councilman. Even if he was a friend of Neil’s, she couldn’t blindly trust him. Yes, my men believe the assassin from my birthday party was from Artasia. Can you confirm that? Garth said the councilman denied any knowledge of that, but perhaps Mathias was just being stubborn considering the duke likely detained him the minute he arrived.

The councilman’s jaw twitched. As I’ve already explained, I looked at the sketch and the man’s effects, none of which I recognized. If he was from Artasia, he was a rogue.

Too bad. Still, that mystery wasn’t as important as the dream snatchers they faced now.

Taryn inclined her head respectfully. Thank you for coming out. I apologize for the manner in which Duke Garth has managed things while I was away. You’re free to leave.

Just a minute, Your Highness, Mathias said. Where is Lexa? She explained the comatose and missing ships had something to do with the dreamscape, but was on her way to Nurin to investigate the Teltan soldiers captured. Did she find anything?

Taryn resisted crossing her arms. While she didn’t appreciate being grilled, Artasia was facing the same crisis. They needed to be allies, not enemies.

The men of the Roark had also been snatched from their minds. Something else was…inhabiting them, pulling their strings like puppets.

Something? Tobiah repeated.

Lexa and I haven’t identified what yet. But when we separated, she continued on to the Haven in search of answers.

Mathias and Tobiah exchanged a look.

Well, the Order of Eldestar has helped us in the past, Tobiah said.

They had no clue the last time the Council checked in with them, Mathias muttered.

Taryn quelled a surge of disappointment. Perhaps with Lexa’s information they’d figure something out. The Masters at the Haven were High Priests of the Keeper; if anyone could solve this, they could.

I think it best we stay, Mathias said carefully. Lexa will likely dream contact you when she finds answers, and it would be wise for me to be here. Then both our countries will be able to respond as needed, and quickly. He cocked his head. Wouldn’t you agree?

Taryn ground her teeth. Add one more person to her weasel list—no wonder Lexa always groused about this man. Of course. She nodded to Hector. Have you two compiled information from both kingdoms yet?

No, Your Highness.

Taryn arched a brow at Mathias Then you can do so now. With that, she turned and swept out of the room. If the councilman wanted to be kept apprised, he had to be just as forthcoming.

Taryn strode down the hall quickly, wincing at the clomping sounds her boots made on the stone floor. The connecting corridor lay five doors ahead. Once she made it past, she could disappear for a while. The third door on the right swung open, and Taryn skidded to a stop as two men emerged into the corridor.

At first they didn’t see her, but the taller one glanced down both ends of the hall and his eyes latched onto hers. Surprise slackened Cedric’s face for a moment before it returned to his perpetual frown. The young man next to him turned his gaze toward Taryn and froze. After a stunned moment, he offered a half-smile and started forward. Crap, she’d been hoping to postpone this moment.

Your Highness, when did you return? Prince Fenir wore his customary leather tunic with a six-pointed gold star of the Northern Kingdom sewn across his chest. A silver loop glinted in his left ear, partially obscured by yellow blond hair that swept across his forehead, stray strands dangling over ice-blue eyes.

Taryn swallowed. This afternoon. I heard about my father.

Fenir nodded solemnly. Yes, it was grievous news. I’m sorry.

Taryn’s mouth felt dry. I understand some of your men are ill as well. I’m sorry. Also. She clamped her mouth shut, appalled at her blithering.

They still live, so there is hope.

Awkward silence fell over them. Taryn glanced at Cedric, who was still eyeing her with apparent enmity, though she didn’t understand why. He’d never been that approachable in the short time she’d spent near him, but this focused resentment was different than his customary aloofness. The prince’s right hand stood half a foot taller than Fenir, and his light hair was a more muted blond, like sand. A scrappy beard covered his face, save for a gap where a scar marked one side of his face from his jaw to his throat. He wore a leather vest with no sleeves, exposing big, muscular arms that would intimidate most people just by looking. For those who still thought they had a chance in a fight, he wore an armband of intertwining hemp knotted with beads. Fenir had told her each one marked a kill in battle. Cedric’s held a few dozen.

Cedric, could you give us a minute? Fenir spoke up.

The man threw Fenir a displeased look, but turned with a grunt and headed toward the end of the hall.

Fenir gave Taryn a sheepish look. So…was your mission successful?

My mission? she repeated.

Hunting down the raider ship. I was told that’s what you went off to do.