Josephine's voice kills any man who hears it-except for the assassin sent to capture her for the king that's been chasing her all her life...but what happens when he decides he doesn't want to hand her over and keep her for himself instead?
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Every time I dreamed, I was suffocated by the things I'd done in my past.
For the entirety of the dreamscape, I'd be confronted by the crushing weight upon my chest that was guilt.
It was like a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that something horrible had happened, something that would hurt the ones I loved and change my life forever.
It was only when the revelation came that it was all my fault—that the weight of that guilt finally crushed me under its horrid hands, I became twisted and molded until I was nothing but an empty vessel for the demons that I'd allowed to invade me while I was sleeping.
I was just screaming at Peter to wake up when I was sucked out of the dream by a touch on my face.
Inala's finger poking my cheek was the thing that awoke me from my exhausted slumber against Oren's lap.
Oren's lap.
My head was on his thigh, and his fingers had been buried in my hair, but they stilled immediately as he noticed my eyes fly open.
The air was stark and fleetingly whipping past my cheeks, a salty brine carried on the voice of the wind.
This was not the secluded dark and hidden alcoves of the caves of the Ness Mountains we'd been sequestered in.
No, this was open and blinding sunlight and fresh air that peppered fresh chills along my skin, and my breath hitched in my throat as I took in the scenery that awaited me.
The rocking motion of the small vessel Oren had somehow acquired pitched us forward and backward, the ocean and horizon line dipping up and down in my peripheral vision as bright azure waters expanded out all around me, reminding me of the crystalline beauty that accompanied Port City, my hometown.
Tears stung in the back of my throat as I recalled the one place where I was ever happy.
"Took you long enough to wake up," Inala muttered, rocking back on her heels and sitting back down on the bench seat built into the side of the boat's frame.
"Where are we?"
My voice came out in a bedraggled, rasping whisper, and I cringed as the scratch traveled up my throat and set it on fire.
What had I done?
"We are on the Valencia side of the Strait of Barron, only a few hours away from the sea cliffs of Hefeta's community."
"How...how did we make it so far? We were just in the Ness Mountains."
I knew I should have stopped talking, but I had to know how we'd traveled such a far distance in such a short amount of time.
Oren paused before answering, body stiffening as I attempted to lift my head, still sore and pulsing with pain, but answered nonetheless.
I was thankful that he hadn't attempted to use his powers of emotion over me, even though I might've needed to be calmed down a bit before his answer.
