Prince of Dreams (Messenger Chronicles Book 4) Page 4

  He painted a pretty picture, this fallen prince, but if I looked closer, I noticed its flaws. His boots were missing, his feet bare, and the dark shirt he’d shrugged on had lost a few buttons. Even his hair, once silky and smooth, was frayed and dulled. The Dreamweaver, wherever Oberon kept him, was weak. He looked like a dream that reeled you in with beautiful promises and then turned into a nightmare once its teeth sank in your neck.

  He gestured at himself. “Take it all in. I have all the time in this world.”

  He hadn’t moved from the throne. I wondered if he could or if the effort of keeping up this illusion had trapped him on this throne he’d fashioned for himself.

  “The saru in the palace are having nightmares. Are they yours?” I asked, keeping to the windows and their warm light.

  He sighed dramatically. “What else am I to do but terrorize saru?”

  “Leave them alone.”

  He smiled and my little saru heart fluttered with fear and far worse emotions. “Will you make me, Wraithmaker? Or should I call you Messenger now? She killed a queen, made a king, but they say she thinks it’s all a dream.” He flicked a hand, indicating the room, Arcon, and the dream we were in.

  “Or nothing girl?” I suggested.

  He laughed silently. “Nothing girl. I liked her. She was the ghost. But I see you are no longer her. A pity, really. She and I had a great deal of fun.”

  “I’ve come to bargain,” I said before his words could sink their claws into the past and drag all my memories out of hiding.

  “Oh?” He leaned forward. The shadows followed. “Please, do make it quick. I’m terribly busy losing my mind as well as my heart.”

  “I free you, and in exchange, you help me save Arran.”

  He screwed up his face. “Who, by Faerie, is Arran?”

  “Aeon.”

  “Aeon?” Aeon probably didn’t feature in his past at all. He’d spent the last thousand years in Halow, a long way from Faerie and its recent history. But he would have learned of Aeon from Sota’s memories. It took him a moment of searching to recall. “The dead gladiator? What did he do? Profess his shallow saru love for the Wraithmaker and catch my brother’s attention?” He blinked. “Oh, exactly that. How very… saru.”

  “It’s more complicated than that. Can’t you see it all up here?” I tapped my forehead.

  He sniffed and shrugged a shoulder. “Your head is a tiresome place when filled with the vakaru and your silver fae.” He rolled his eyes. If he hadn’t delved into my head recently, then perhaps he didn’t know about the events on Hapters and Valand, about Kellee and Talen or the Nightshade raising an undead army. That was good. I needed to hold all the cards in this game against the Dreamweaver.

  “You do not have the power or the knowledge to bargain for my freedom,” he said. Under his gaping shirt, the tek veins throbbed, feeding life into his human-made heart. The heart I had ripped out. A precursor to the religious talismans on Hapters. And here was their god. Not so godly now.

  “Tell me how,” I said, “and I’ll do it.”

  “Hmm…” He turned thoughtful. “I propose a counteroffer, to test your intentions. A small bargain. A foundation on which we can build our new partnership. What do you say?”

  “All right.” A small trade could work, but Arran didn’t have long. The bargain would have to be something significant. “Stop dreamwalking the palace saru.”

  He pursed his lips, pretending to consider it. “And what do I get in return?”

  “Me.”

  “You?” He seemed skeptical, but then he was bargaining with an infamous liar. “In what regard?”

  “In a dream. For one night. Twelve hours.”

  “One night?” He sat upright on his throne, planted both feet in front of him, and leaned forward. “What makes you think I want you?”

  I smiled my Wraithmaker smile. “You spent nine months with me. Nobody forced you. You already told me once how you enjoyed it and wanted that again.”

  “Nine Halow months is nothing to me.” He shooed away my explanation. “A blink in my lifetime.”

  “Tell me you don’t want this bargain and we’ll move on.”

  He stilled, guarding his response. If he said he didn’t want this, he’d be lying. If he said yes, well… he’d be admitting too much. He couldn’t answer unless he spoke the truth, so he didn’t answer at all. “I will leave the palace saru to their sweet dreams for a week in exchange for a night with you, beginning now.”

  “Beginning when I choose.”

  He laughed, and the sound crawled inside my bones. “Well, that could be any time, and I doubt your little gladiator has long. Do you think the Hunt will come for him? The things of nightmares rarely waste their time on saru, but the Hunt do as they please. Or they used to… Faerie is so different…” His focus shifted, growing distant, until he caught himself and grinned. “What a show that would be. I imagine a saru body wouldn’t survive more than a few minutes, and the mind… well, the Hunt might take that for eternity.”

  I swallowed the bile rising up my throat. Arran’s intentions had always been good. He did not deserve an eternity of torture.

  “All right.” I was really doing this. Twelve hours with the Dreamweaver. He could make one hour last a lifetime. Twelve? He’d almost destroyed me during those nine months. Twelve hours to free the saru from the Dreamweaver for seven days and earn his trust so we might bargain with bigger stakes. I’d be all right. The nothing girl was dead. I was the Messenger now, and Eledan couldn’t get to me. “Tomorrow night.”

  “Twenty-four hours from this moment?”

  I nodded. “One thing…”

  “Oh, now she adds terms? What other things will you have me do, Messenger?”

  “Make it known to the palace saru that it was I, as the Messenger, who gave them back their peaceful sleep.”

  His smile crawled across his lips, making them twitch. “You wish for me to tell them how you tamed the Dreamweaver?”

  “Only for seven days. As you said, what is seven days to you? It’s nothing. After that, you may stalk their dreams again.”

  He pretended to think on it. I had him. I’d had him since this dream began. Wherever Oberon had locked him up, Eledan was starved for company. Real company. He had been lonely on Calicto. Now, his isolation had driven him out of his mind.

  “Very well, Messenger. I agree.”

  “And you’ll consider the larger bargain? You save Arran and I save you?”

  “Let us begin small. I have my doubts as to whether you can save me, especially as you helped bury me in this prison to begin with.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Twenty-four hours,” he reminded. “Enjoy your time in the real world. I intend to enjoy you during every moment of mine.”

  Chapter 4

  Marshal Kellee

  We were on a tek ship. That became clear as Earthen guards led me away from the holding cell. Point Juno, my home for a few decades, once had the same glass-and-metal aesthetics as this Earthen vessel. Every polished surface shone. Lights blinked and rippled along walkways. The barely audible hum of tek fluttered around me like an insect buzzing on the periphery of my hearing. My gritted teeth ached.

  Men and women dressed in similar dark blue overalls, marked with the Sol symbol of connected circles, which symbolized their precious planet Earth and its mighty star at its center, went about their business. Tek shimmered in the seams, enhancing their clothes, enhancing them. Ocular implants meant their penetrating glances saw beyond my outward appearance. If Sol had access to Halow’s old databanks, each person who glanced my way already thought they knew Marshal Kellee.

  Glass walkways bridged enormous bays that displayed a small army of Earthen crew and their drone-helpers. They were deliberately giving the tour. Look at how mighty we are. So mighty they hadn’t lifted a finger to help Halow. And this ship was easily the size of Shinj, and perhaps bigger. A tek juggernaut. Earthen tek had come a long way since they had sought to ma
ke peace with me on Valand, but all the tek in the worlds couldn’t change their nature.

  My tour ended in a room lined with hovering screens, like a gallery, only the screens depicted the movement of troops and atmospheric readings on a planet I didn’t recognize, with numbers and text scrolling on and on. It couldn’t fail to impress.

  “Marshal Kellee, my apologies for keeping you with that monster,” a woman said. She appeared to be in her late forties. She appraised me with kind, wise eyes, free of ocular implants. “I admit we were at a loss about what to do with you. We still are. I’ll arrange for more comfortable quarters once we’re through here. Please sit.”

  My escorts filed out, and the doors sealed closed. I didn’t hear a lock, but I didn’t believe, with all this tek, that the room would have security as antiquated as a mechanical locking system. If the captain was linked with her ship or a drone, she could lock the door with a glance or a thought.

  “My name is Captain Pierce. Welcome to Excalibur.”

  Taking up the offered seat, I flicked my gaze over the captain, at the Sol Alliance logo on her uniform jacket, her tightly pinned dark hair, and her easy smile. Captain Pierce had given the order to attack us on Hapters. This friendly demeanor was one of her many faces.

  My fingers itched. I locked them together and gave the captain a charming smile. “Interesting name, for a spacefaring vessel.”

  “You know the Earthen legend of King Arthur?” she asked, brow lifting.

  “I have a friend who likes to read old Earthen tales.” The friend you have locked up. “If I remember correctly, Excalibur stood for peace.”

  “That’s right. But it was a sword, a weapon meant for war.”

  “Must all weapons be used, Captain?”

  “Yes. At least once, as a deterrent if for nothing else.”

  “Those in power during the thousand-year war say the same. Your tek prowess killed millions as a deterrent…”

  Some of her softness hardened. “Millions of fae. And in doing so, their queen signed a treaty that heralded peace between us for hundreds of years. A treaty their new king has tossed aside, making those countless deaths meaningless.”

  She was right. Oberon had thrown away millennia of peace in his crusade to kill all his humans. I conceded with a nod.

  “We observed your ship and its crew for several weeks.” Her tone had lost all its friendliness, as had her eyes. “When it became clear certain individuals were unleashing fae magics, we swiftly disabled the vessel.”

  I’d suspected they had been tailing us since their appearance on Hapters while Sirius had distracted us. They believed they had seen us free the dark fae on Hapters and Valand. Admittedly, it appeared that way from the outside. “There were civilians on our ship—”

  “The Hapters civilians are perfectly safe. Once we’re safely out of Halow space, we will house them, temporarily. When Hapters is cleared of fae, we will return them.”

  Had they let us do our job, Talen would have controlled those dark fae and the Hapters people would have had their homes back by now, but arguing over the past wouldn’t help the future.

  Was Hulia among those they had saved? They might not know she was namu, the same as they didn’t know I wasn’t human.

  “And our ship?” I asked.

  She hesitated. “Contained.”

  Contained. A simple word for what was likely torture. “And what of the fae on the ship?”

  “Executed.”

  I hid my grimace by rubbing a hand over my mouth. War. There were never any winners. I’d killed fae. Killed a shit-ton of humans too. But always in battle, when it was kill or be killed. I hadn’t lined up my enemies and executed them. There was a line, and without that line, Sol’s humans were no better than the fae they fought. They hadn’t always been this way. Once, their emissary had come to Valand speaking of choices and peace. I’d killed her. It seemed both humans and the last vakaru had changed a great deal.

  What happens when both sides are wrong?

  “Then why am I sitting here, Captain?” I asked. She was watching my every expression and weighing each word. I would not easily talk my way around this woman.

  “My orders are to scout the Halow system, assess the aftermath, and report my findings back to the Sol Alliance. You’re the first authority figure we’ve encountered. It appears the fae struck strategic points first with surgical precision. Halow’s infrastructure collapsed within days of the defense net falling. There are numerous channels of chatter, but no organized force remains. No central government. To your knowledge, did anything of Halow survive? Can anything be salvaged?”

  Fear surfaced in the captain’s eyes. The fae had wiped out billions on their doorstep, and now they might be coming for Sol. She should be afraid. Unless they had an armada of these shiny vessels with this tek, the fae would come and cleanse the human infestation the way they had in Halow. The only reason they hadn’t was the distance of Sol from Faerie. But it would happen. They would come.

  That was why Captain Pierce had fired on us when our back was turned. Fear.

  “Very little survived,” I said. “The fae are working their way through Halow. A few pockets of resistance remain—”

  “Like this Messenger figure? We’ve heard much of her—”

  “A myth but a nice thought.” I smiled, treading carefully.

  “A myth?”

  “What else could she be? A woman capable of killing thousands of fae with a magic whip and an antiquated wardrone?” I chuckled. “It’s a nice fantasy, like your King Arthur. People need hope to cling to.”

  Captain Pierce wasn’t playing my game. She came around to my side of the long table. I picked up the thwump-thwump of her strong heart. The fear I’d sensed in her had fluttered and died. This woman was iron wrapped in the guise of a Sol captain. Many over the years had underestimated her. I wouldn’t.

  “What was the purpose of your visit to Valand?” she asked.

  “We were searching for survivors.”

  “And you happened to find a fae warcruiser prior to this?”

  “The fae left it behind. Stealing it seemed like a good idea.”

  All her friendliness was gone now, shaved off behind a stern razor’s edge. “The fae in the cell, he piloted it?”

  I laughed to diffuse the rising tension. “Well, I sure as karushit didn’t.”

  “He helped you search for survivors.” Another statement. “Why would he do that?”

  “Because he’s on our side.” I swallowed, feeling the heat of her gaze.

  “Why?”

  “Is this an interrogation? Because it’s beginning to feel like one.”

  “Does it need to be?”

  By cyn, this woman would have made a formidable marshal. “We registered an enormous energy spike on Hapters. It overwhelmed many of our sensors. What transpired on Hapters isn’t entirely clear. Were you helping to free those fae or fight against them?”

  “Wouldn’t it have been pertinent to find that out before you attacked?”

  “We did, but I want your answer so I can know the man I’m dealing with, Marshal.”

  I leaned forward. A sound clunked from across the room, and a wardrone drifted into sight. The tek itch ramped my senses up a notch. Sleek and silver, the drone resembled a floating dagger. A single lens at its front was flanked by two smaller lenses, making the three-eyed thing unnerving. It hovered into position behind Pierce and watched. My history with wardrones wasn’t the best.

  “We were dealing with the fae threat on Hapters and working to return the refugees to their homes,” I said. “Had you thought to ask before you attacked, we would have explained our intentions. We could have worked together…” I spread my hands and leaned back like none of this bothered me.

  Her drone’s gaze drilled down, reading my body heat and heart rate. I’d been shot by Sota enough times not to want to anger her floating slice of lethal tek.

  “I would like to believe you, Marshal Kellee,” she said,
returning to her spot behind the table, “but all evidence points to the contrary.”

  “Then your evidence is karushit, just like your policy of shooting first and asking questions later. We were attempting to contain the dark fae threat. Our intentions were always good.”

  She swept a hand across her table, bringing a console to life beneath its surface. “There’s something good you can do for us. We picked up an old drone on Hapters.” She tapped away at her screen, moving on to a new topic. “It suffered considerable damage, but it’s intact. As well as being highly modified, its databanks are encrypted.” Looking up, she used two fingers to fling the image across the tabletop. I looked down at the picture of Sota. “Perhaps you could help with that?”

  I’d warned Kesh. Sota was a liability. And now he was in Sol’s hands. They wouldn’t stop picking that damn drone apart until they discovered its secrets, such as the map to an ancient and all-powerful Faerie weapon. “I’m more of a hands-on kinda guy. Tek isn’t my area of expertise.”

  Her smile cut like a knife. “I’m sure you’ll manage.”

  With the resources they had here, they’d crack Sota open eventually and find the map. A weapon like the polestar in human hands? I wasn’t sure what was worse: the fae or the Earthens wielding it.

  “I’ll do what I can.” At least I’d know where Sota was. Considering everything I’d seen so far, Excalibur was a fortress, and Talen and I weren’t getting off this ship without some serious firepower. Plan B was looking more and more tempting.

  Chapter 5

  Kesh

  I’d been glad for the pain before. Anything to serve Oberon. The woman I’d been, the saru who had wept tears of joy even as her prince had mutilated her, she was long gone. Now, I endured and I survived Oberon’s affections. There were more lives at stake than my own.

  In the basement chamber, where the faelights flickered and the swirls in the floor glowed, Sirius watched, outside my line of sight, like he always had, and Oberon poured his ink-acid concoction into incisions in my skin. I endured every meticulous cut and every drip as I thought about Kesh Lasota’s life on Calicto. The nobody messenger girl with a fake life. It hadn’t been a bad life. Somewhere in all that time, I’d begun to believe my own lies, making them true. And then there was Kellee, the smart-mouthed marshal who had followed me home and never left. Despite all our ups and downs, he had stuck by my side. And Talen, the imprisoned pilot. Imprisoned behind more than tek and bars. Imprisoned behind a name he no longer wanted. And Aeon, foolish Aeon. He had tried to save us both, again, by forgetting. And here we were, in Faerie’s clutches, about to be crushed. But I had a plan. All I had to do was make the Dreamweaver mine. Here, he was powerful, and with him, I would be too.