I drop my hand and jerk back. I don’t have a tattoo. And I’ve never been with Sebastian. I don’t know where that thought came from. But Sebastian pulls me into his arms before I can get too far, and I let him.
Past and present, dream and reality all sort themselves and click into place.
He’s warm and safe, and I never want to leave. I am so sick of being alone. So I lean into his embrace, into his warmth. I feel his heart beating against my cheek and I want to cry. I want to cry because this is only a dream. Because it’s not real. I want to cry because I was once foolish enough to believe it was.
Everything’s different. Now I know what it’s like to take a life and to lose my own. I know what it’s like to plunge a blade into the heart of a king and feel no remorse. I know what it’s like to die and be brought back through the excruciating magic of a sacred faerie potion. I know what it’s like to love so deeply and have that love used against me.
Tomorrow there will be more running. I will still be alone. Sebastian will still have betrayed me.
“I thought it was real,” I whisper against his soft cotton shirt. “You made me believe you loved me.”
“I do love you.”
I shake my head because this is a dream, and dream Sebastian will always love me. Will always protect me. He would never betray me.
When he pulls back and tilts my face up to his, he looks into my eyes for a long time. “You have every right to be angry,” he says. “I am so sorry. I am so sorry I didn’t find another way.”
I stiffen. I don’t want to have this conversation. I want to pretend no apologies are needed and that none of this ever happened. But . . .
“I should’ve come for you myself, but I couldn’t, and now . . .” He shakes his head. “What’s your connection to the Wild Fae court? Who took you there?”
I can only stare at him. This is a dream, but not a typical dream.
“Come to me at the Unseelie palace. I promise I’ll keep you safe. I don’t know what my mother has planned, but I fear—”
“You’re visiting my dreams.”
His smile is slow and unsure. “I am half Unseelie.”
“I don’t want you here,” I breathe.
There’s devastation in his eyes. Heartache that I understand all too well. That I feel in my bones, humming right alongside my own. “Brie—”
“Get out.” Then I shove. With my hands and my mind, I shove until he disappears and I’m alone again and swept into another dream.
Later in the night, Finn appears in a dream, but I shove him out before he can say a single word.
Chapter Four
I sleep for hours without stirring, even without the tonic.
When I wake, light peeks through the gap in the curtains. I press my palms against my eyes and groan. I need to be entangled with another Faerie court like I need a hole in the head. Never mind that I doubt Misha is exactly a neutral party here. He and Amira were working with Finn to rescue Unseelie refugees from the queen’s camps. While knowing this makes it easier to trust Misha, easier to respect him, it also means that he has ties to Finn and those who want Finn on the Throne of Shadows.
Meanwhile, Sebastian is visiting me in my dreams and asking me to come to him at the Unseelie palace. Did he take the throne? Now that he has the crown, I’m not sure what would stop him, not sure what he might be doing that he would’ve found himself in the kind of pain I felt yesterday.
Sitting up, I swing my feet around to the cool stone floor. The room spins, and I close my eyes for a beat. I am still painfully exhausted. Misha said it was because I had exerted myself too much after taking the potion and I needed to rest, but I still I feel as ragged as I did during my worst days as a human. Perhaps the energy and vitality associated with the fae doesn’t come to those of us who drink the potion. Perhaps those gifts are reserved for the natural-born faeries.
I use the facilities, and when I return to the bedroom, a strange female waits by my bed, a cerulean gown with heavy skirts draped across her extended arms, like an offering.
“Who are you?” I ask.
“I’m Genny. I heard you rise and prepared your attire for an early dinner.” She smiles as if my waking from a nap is the best thing that’s happened to her all day. “May I help you dress?” she asks, stepping toward me.
I point to the gown. “Not that.” I’ll no longer allow anyone to weigh me down in heavy skirts and tie me up in breath-stealing corsets. I’m done with flimsy shoes and fine fabrics. I’m done being controlled.