In the presence of the king, though, Joslyn could not speak of her plans. In the presence of this monster, she feared even thinking of rebellion, let alone challenging him aloud.
“One final thing, before you go,” the king said to Joslyn. “The sword.”
“It was lost,” Joslyn said without hesitation, praying that Tasia would understand what she was doing and not give anything away with her face. The slightest twitch would doom them now. Would doom the whole world. “I lost it when we fled Pellon.”
The king’s expression shifted from a madman’s grin to something much darker. “I do not believe you.”
Joslyn shrugged. “I do not have it. If I did, it would be in the sheath upon my back.”
At a glance from the king, one of the assassins holding Joslyn ripped off the cloak she had stolen when she’d snuck into the city. There was a pause.
“The Terintan speaks the truth, Majesty,” the woman says. “There is a sheath upon her back, but it is empty.”
The king growled like an animal – or like an undatai. “I do not know what you have done with it, but I will find it.”
“You’re welcome to try,” Joslyn answered. Putting menace into her voice, she added, “If I could’ve found it, I would have already struck you down.”
A corner of the king’s mouth lifted into a snarl, but then it relaxed again, and his lazy grin returned. “It no longer matters. You will sleep, and dream, and after a time, we shall be as one again. I have missed the feel of your body.” He nodded at Tasia. “And hers.” He flicked his wrist. “Take them to their room.”
And the assassins had led them here, to this dank and dusty replica of Tasia’s apartments, where they’d laid Joslyn and Tasia upon this bed and sent them into a dream. Sent them into a q’isson between the Shadowlands and mortal realm.
Joslyn knew what she needed to do. It was time to retrieve Ku-sai’s sword from where she had hidden it. Then she would bring it back to the mortal realm and use it to bring death to the deathless king.
The plan was simple enough. Simple, but not easy.
She leaned over, shaking Tasia gently.
“Wake up, my love.”
But Tasia did not stir.
Joslyn tried again. “Tasia? Wake up. Please wake up.”
She put two fingers to the side of Tasia’s neck. There was a pulse there. It was gentle and erratic, like a baby bird’s. But it was there.
How long had they been here, dreaming inside this dusty imitation of Port Lorsin’s palace? It felt like only hours, but Joslyn’s instincts told her it had been longer than that. She swung her feet off the mattress and onto the floor, fighting an accompanying wave of dizziness that tried to force her back down. She pushed to her feet, stood with one hand upon the mattress until the dizziness subsided. Then she tottered to the table below the window, the table that was an eerie replica of the one where she and Tasia had shared so many meals, so many games of Castles and Knights. She inspected the plates again, picking one up to look at the ugly smear upon its surface.
They’d eaten here, hadn’t they? The Order of Targhan had served them a meal at this table, and … that was what had put them to sleep. They’d eaten drugged food, and once they slept, the king had dreamwalked into their minds, weaving a prison from an illusion.
Joslyn shuddered. Even in his weakened state, the king was strong. His dreamwalking made hers look like a child imitating an adult.
She put down the plate. Food did not turn into a dried brown stain on a plate in a matter of hours; food left out in a humid climate such as Persopos’s would rot after a week. A week and a half at most. For it to decay even further until all that was left was a brown smudge upon a plate…
They had been sleeping in this bed, trapped in their prison-dream, for months. Perhaps years. And no one would come for them. Thanks to the noble sacrifice of Gileon and the remaining palace guards, the mountain men, along with the Imperial Army, believed that the Empress and the Commander of the Palace Guard had fallen during the siege of Pellon.
They were on their own.
Joslyn tried again to wake Tasia, but she did not so much as shift in her sleep.
If she could not wake Tasia from outside the dream, the only other possibility would be to wake her from inside the dream.
Yet would Joslyn still be capable of dreamwalking after so much time under the deathless king’s thrall? And if he was as strong a dreamwalker as she believed him to be, would she stand a chance against his powers?
She knew of only one way to find out.
Joslyn lay back down in the indentation of her own body. She laced her fingers together with Tasia’s and closed her eyes.