Page 61 of To Kill a King
The first time he’d dream walked her, the magic had only lasted for a few minutes. If she could fight him long enough to delay him, she’d poof back to the clearing near Filathas, where Elessan and Zadé waited.
Wedging her fingers under his, she pried at them. Clenching her teeth, she pulled with all her strength.
It was no good—he was too strong.
Going limp at the knees, she collapsed.
With a growl, the king hauled her to her feet. Grabbing her by her upper arms, he held her in front of him and strode down various hallways. She’d have a hell of a bruise if she survived this. Malkov stepped into a room with a slab of stone in the middle over a drain angled at the lower end of a mildly slanted floor. Several chains and tools whose use she couldn’t fathom hung from the walls. Aliya’s gut roiled as an acidic taste burned the back of her throat. This could only be the interrogation room in the dungeon beneath his castle. It reeked of rotten blood and excrement.
Oh, Gods.
There was a body chained to the table, wearing the Larimar colors.
No. No, no, no.
She tried to close her eyes, but found herself looking into the king’s evil grin. “Let’s get started, shall we?”
The man strapped on the slab began to shriek. Aliya stared; her eyes wide as they latched on to Hart’s face.
She screamed.
“Aliya, wake up!”
Malkov’s magic shattered. Strong hands pinned her shoulders against the ground. Her eyes snapped open with a rush of adrenaline-spiked heat. She yanked her hair away from her face. Her power crackled at her fingertips, ready to protect. The dungeon faded. Elessan’s concerned face hovered inches above her own.
Her throat burned as her lungs heaved air in and out. A drop of sweat crawled its way down her temple.
After several heartbeats, her breathing calmed enough to allow speech. “Elessan?” Both hands fisted the material of his tunic, holding on as the world settled into place.
He bent down until his face was level with hers. “You were screaming. Did you have a nightmare?”
Self-conscious, she dropped her gaze and released his shirt, brushing out the wrinkles. Swallowing, she nodded.
“Who’s Hart?”
“Who?” She gave him a wide-eyed blink, hoping to cover the shard of ice that slammed into her chest at his question.
“You screamed ‘No, Hart’ over and over.”
She swallowed twice past the lump in her throat. “He was...one of the guards who tried to arrest me. We grew up together.”
“What happened?”
She took a trembling breath. “The King—Malkov—he made me watch while he tortured Hart. As punishment for running away.” Pressing her lips into a thin line, she closed her eyes. Burning tears leaked from between her eyelids.
Elessan pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, and rested his temple against the top of her head. “Shh…It was a dream.”
She leaned her forehead on his chest and took a couple deep breaths. Elessan’s fresh scent, like a pine forest after a rainstorm, surrounded her, sweeping through her lungs and chasing the last of the dungeon’s reek away.
“Are you okay?” he murmured.
She bit her lower lip and swallowed. She should tell him, but it wouldn’t do anything except make him worry. Even he couldn’t force Malkov out of her brain while she slept.
Aliya sniffed and tugged her sleeve down over the hand-shaped bruise on her upper arm. “I’m fine.”
He shifted, bringing his mouth near her ear. “We’re being watched.”
She brushed a hand over both cheeks to dry her tears and pulled away slowly. “I’m sorry. I—”