Page 85 of Avalon Tower

And salt air washes over me, and a spray of stars twinkles in the night sky. Stone stairs zigzag down to the sea. We’re free.

I inhale, the wind whipping at me. The night air is incredibly clear, and I can fill my lungs at last. Raphael has led us out of the nightmare.

“Come on, we don’t have much time,” he says.

We run down the stairwell, back to the dock where we left the boat. When we reach it, I almost sob in relief. We made it. I can’t believe we got out. As I step into the boat, Viviane cuts the mooring rope with a knife. We push off into the sea, and oars plunge into the waves as Viviane and Raphael row.

The sea spray drenches me, and I hold on to the edges of the boat. Up ahead, the shimmering veil waits. Strangely, the misty magical barrier feels like safety.

“Nia, will you be able to get us through?” Raphael asks.

“Yes, just get us closer.”

“The current is a real bastard,” Viviane grunts as she pulls at her oar. “It’s hard to row in this thing.”

“Yeah.” Raphael grimaces as seawater dampens his shirt.

I listen to the oars striking the water, staring at the veil. It doesn’t seem to be getting closer.

I glance back. “We haven’t left the dock!”

“It’s the bloody current.” Raphael shouts over the waves.

“Aren’t we in a bay?” Freya is heaving for breath. “There shouldn’t be a current.”

I stare at the murky water. Even in the dark, I can see the water churning as they struggle with the oars. Storm clouds gather overhead, blocking out the moon and the stars. Shadows gather around us.

Now we’re actually moving. The powerful current pulls us along with it, but not toward the shore. We’re spinning in a circle.

“We’re trapped in a whirlpool,” Raphael says, alarmed.

Fear grips my heart as I cling to the boat. The whirlpool is enormous, a yawning void. The boat whirls faster and faster, around and around, as Viviane and Raphael try to row us out.

“No,” I whisper. “We’re not trapped in the whirlpool. We’re trapped in the waking nightmare. We never left the Château des Rêves.”

CHAPTER 27

Rain pours from the sky, and the water churns, our tiny boat rocking in the speeding torrent. Raphael shouts instructions that are impossible to hear as he tries to free the boat from the deadly current. Viviane’s oar is wrenched out of her hands. I make the mistake of glancing at the center of the enormous whirlpool, an abyss waiting to swallow us. A void. Nothingness. The end.

With seawater spattering me and my heart thudding with terror, it’s hard to convince myself that none of this is real. But it’s not. I’m sure of it. Whirlpools such as this simply don’t exist in the normal world—that’s a nightmare thing.

Raphael was wrong. Although the dream is in our minds, we have no control over it. Our fantasy of escape is just that—a fantasy. The Dream Stalker let us think we were escaping, like a cat toying with a mouse, but we’re still there. Our bodies are still in the Château des Rêves, enfolded in a terrible nightmare. Sooner or later, the dark prince and his guards will find us. Fear crackles through my nerves.

If I know I’m dreaming, can I force myself to wake? I pinch myself, but that doesn’t help. Pain is real in this nightmare, and it’s not a way out. If we drown here, I feel disturbingly certain that would mean the end for us.

What does the Dream Stalker want? I’ve heard his thoughts for years. He craves pleasure and beauty, but he always feels alone. If I’m in the château right now, as I suspect, could I slip into his mind as I accidentally did before? Maybe—only then—we can find a way out of this nightmare.

The thought of going anywhere near him, much less his thoughts, scares the shit out of me. I’ve already come close to losing my sanity by invading too many people’s thoughts. It would be dumb to risk drowning in a sea of consciousness again, but do I have a choice? Not if I wish to escape this nightmare.

Gripping the slippery wooden edge of the boat, I close my eyes and focus on the magic inside me, the frenetic, high-pitched, violet magic that allows me to hear another person’s thoughts.

As I summon it, I recall the way the prince’s mind felt as it touched mine. Dark, brooding. Obsessed with sex.

I channel my telepathic powers at that mind and feel something brush my thoughts, a shadow of another entity. Dark. Alluring. Seductive. But right now—above all—furious.

But it’s hard to concentrate with the boat heaving up and down, threatening to spit me into the void. My fingers tighten on the wet wood. With racing breath, I grasp at that other mind, fumbling with my powers, stretching them toward his dark temptation like I’ve never done before.

And then, from far away, a voice.