Sleep took Zaeryn fast, but it definitely did not offer any peace or rest.

The dream was a hazy, suffocating mess of cold marble and towering shadows.

Zaeryn found himself standing in the center of a massive circular room. Above him, sitting in impossibly high thrones, were women whose faces were completely obscured by darkness. He didn’t need to be told who they were. The Matriarch Tribunal. He couldn’t see their eyes, but he could feel the crushing weight of their judgment pinning him to the floor.

Whispers echoed from every corner, overlapping and drowning each other out.

Anomaly. Royal blood. A problem to be tidied away.

The shadows on the floor suddenly shifted. They crawled up his legs and arms, hardening into heavy, icy chains that yanked him to his knees. He struggled against the metal, but it only bit deeper into his skin.

When he looked up, the vast room was no longer empty. He was surrounded.

Familiar faces stared down at him from the gloom. Ysmeine, Sage, Aeris, Ravena, Daphne. Even Ingrid was there. He looked for any sign of comfort, any spark of the bonds that gave him his strength. But their eyes were completely dead. They looked at him with pure, unadulterated disappointment.

A sickening fear twisted his gut. This was his absolute worst nightmare. Not the Tribunal, but failing the women he cared about. Losing the bonds that kept him who he was and gave him power in this crazy but beautiful world.

A booming voice cut through the overlapping whispers, dropping the final verdict.

"Guilty. Erase the anomaly."

Before the chains could drag him into the abyss, the marble floor cracked open. A searing, unnatural heat washed over the room. A figure stepped out of the splintering stone, eyes glowing with a terrifying golden reptilian fire.

He looked like a dragon.

The entity smirked, looking down at Zaeryn with absolute contempt. "I warned you, boy," the deep, echoing voice rattled against Zaeryn’s skull. "They will never accept what you are. You should have joined me when I offered you the throne. Now you die as their pathetic little pet."

A colossal hand reached down from the darkness, fingers closing around him like a vice. He couldn’t breathe. The air was being squeezed right out of his lungs.

Zaeryn jolted awake with a sharp gasp.

He shot up in bed, chest heaving, sweat clinging to his forehead. For a few frantic seconds his eyes darted around the dark room, half expecting to see the Tribunal waiting in the corners. But there was only the soft moonlight filtering through the curtains and the quiet, rhythmic breathing of Daphne sleeping soundly beside him.

He let out a long, shaky exhale and rubbed his face with both hands. Just a dream. The terrifying part was how real the threat had felt.

Careful not to wake her, he slipped out from under the covers. His throat felt like sandpaper. He needed a glass of water, and maybe a few quiet minutes to get his heart rate back to normal before trying to sleep again.

The kitchen was dark and still. He filled a glass at the tap.

"Stupid dream," he muttered to himself.

He meant it. The nightmare’s grip was already fading, leaving behind only a vague residue of unease and a surprisingly clear sense of purpose.

He drank the water in slow gulps, letting the cool liquid soothe him. It was just a dream and nothing else. But goddess, was it scary. It gave Zaeryn an immediate, almost physical need to train. He had never felt so powerless as he had in that room. That must never happen again.

And so he decided, very calmly and very reasonably, that starting tomorrow he was going to train even harder than he already was.

Because apparently his sleeping brain had decided to motivate him through psychological terrorism.

Wonderful.

He set the glass down and padded softly back to the bedroom. Sliding beneath the heavy covers, he found Daphne exactly where he had left her. She stirred just enough to drape an arm across his chest and hook one smooth thigh over his legs, claiming him again with the lazy confidence of someone who had absolutely no idea she had nearly been abandoned for a midnight glass of water.

Zaeryn glanced down at her. Her warmth chased the last of the chill from his bones, and this time sleep took him without much of a fight.

Morning arrived with a bright, unapologetic beam of sunlight cutting straight through the gap in the curtains.

Zaeryn woke feeling far too rested for someone whose dreams had apparently tried to execute him.

He squinted against the glare and noticed that Daphne was already awake. She was lying on her stomach, her chin resting on one folded arm, watching him with the quiet, unhurried attention of someone who had been awake for a while.

Her blue hair was loose and thoroughly ruined from sleep, spread across her arm. She looked completely unbothered by this.

"Bad dream?" she asked. There was no sleepiness in her voice at all.

He looked at her. "What gave it away?"

"You sat up like someone had grabbed you." She held his gaze, unbothered. "I didn’t follow. You clearly needed a minute alone, not someone trailing after you asking questions."

"It was just a stupid dream," he said. "The Tribunal. A trial. The worst possible sentence." He rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Well. Good for you it’s just a dream," she said.

Zaeryn smiled. "Yeah."

They lay there for a moment doing nothing in particular. Outside, the city was already humming, distant and unhurried. A thin stripe of light moved slowly across the ceiling as a cruiser passed somewhere beyond the curtains.

He looked at her in the soft morning light. Without really thinking about it, he reached out and let his thumb brush gently over her cheekbone.

Daphne blinked. Her body tensed just a fraction, and she looked genuinely taken aback. Her usual composed mask slipped for a split second. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice quiet and slightly confused.

Zaeryn let his hand rest there. It hit him then that a woman of her status, powerful and constantly guarded, probably never experienced touches like this. "Do you need me to stop?" he asked smoothly.

Daphne held his gaze for a long moment. Then, very slowly, she leaned into the caress. She closed her eyes with a quiet sigh, looking very much like a pleased, very dangerous cat. "No, I like.... It."

He kept his thumb there, enjoying how her skin felt on his hands. "Are we hiding in bed all day?" his voice dropped a little lower. "Because I could probably be convinced to cancel my plans."

Daphne opened one eye, visibly considering the offer. She reached out without looking and stole a corner of his pillow. He let her have it. "As tempting as that sounds, I have an entire estate to run. And you have whatever it is you do when you aren’t actively finding new ways to get into trouble."

"I deeply resent that. I am a model citizen."

She snorted. Even so, it was a very ladylike sound that made him grin wider, because class and elegance never seemed to leave her. "You are a walking disaster, Zaeryn. But you happen to be my favorite walking disaster, so I tolerate it."

She looked at him with a look that could only be described as affectionate, but in that Daphne way. "Besides, with your special situation, you can’t stay out of trouble even if you tried."

The comfortable silence stretched again.

"Are you hungry?" she asked eventually.

"Starving."

"There’s nothing in the kitchen."

"I know. I checked last night."

"I’ll have something sent up."

"After the shower," he said.

She looked at him. "After the shower," she agreed.

She sat up slowly. The sheet slipped down to her waist, exposing her perfectly full breasts to the morning light. She didn’t bother pulling the fabric back up. Morning light caught the blue of her hair and turned it almost silver at the edges. She just let him look, completely comfortable in her own skin and fully aware of the effect she had on him.

Zaeryn watched her for a second, not for any particular reason. Just because she was there and the room was quiet and nothing was on fire.

"We should probably get moving," he said.

"We should, I have so much work today." She stood, stretching her arms overhead with a lazy groan. "But first, we need to wash yesterday off."

Ten minutes later, the massive glass-enclosed shower was filled with thick white steam.

The hot water felt incredible. It beat down on Zaeryn’s shoulders, washing away the lingering cold sweat of his nightmares. He leaned his forearms against the slick marble wall, eyes closed, soaking in the heat and letting his mind go blank.

Then the glass door clicked open.