Court of Death and Dreams

CONTENTS Author’s Note Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Epilogue Bonus Epilogue Note From Meg Acknowledgments Stay in Touch The Rogue Exile The Chosen Universe Also by Meg Anne About Meg Anne This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental. Copyright 2023 © Meg Anne All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-951738-40-2 (Paperback Edition) You may not copy, distribute, transmit, reproduce, or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (including without limitation electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, printing, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the author. Permission requests can be sent to Meg Anne via email: [email protected] Cover Art by Story Wrappers Edited by Mo Sytsma of Comma Sutra Editorial Proofread by Dominique Laura For JJ, whose talent inspired one hell of a redemption arc. “Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while.” WESTLEY, THE PRINCESS BRIDE AUTHOR’S NOTE Court of Death and Dreams contains mature and graphic content that is not suitable for all audiences. Such content includes murder, torture, explicit violence and gore. Reader discretion is advised. A detailed list of content and trigger warnings is available on my website. CHAPTER 1 BAST “All right, you fucker, you better cover up anything you don’t want me to see. You asked for an hour, and I gave you double that, but this is ridiculous. We all get it. You can rail your woman into the ground. Bravo for you. We should all be so lucky. Now put your dick away and come back to the safety of the camp so the rest of us can get some sleep without worrying the two of you are out there dead or dying.” Despite the cavalier nature of his speech, apprehension hummed in his veins, the unrelenting buzz growing with every step. Having already walked the length of the beach within sight of the bonfire twice over, Sebastian prowled along the edge of the trees, shouting his frustration into the darkness beyond. “Come on, Ronan! Shadow! I’m not playing games. I require proof of life!” Since beginning his pilgrimage from Colvers across Empyria, he’d cultivated a persona born of indulgence and baptized by excess. Not only cultivated, perfected. To any who looked at him, he was a young courtier without a care in the world. The next high all that mattered, and responsibility the only sin recognized by a man who’d made pleasure his religion. How he paid for it now. No one took him or his warnings seriously. Instead, his sincerity was met with derision and amusement. Which was why he was out here searching for his missing friend alone. “Leave them be, Sebastian. They’ve more than earned their privacy,” Calypso had said when he’d asked the pirates to join his one-man search party. “You know I’m the last person to get in the way of a man and his intimate pursuits . . . unless they impede my own,” he’d added with his trademark roguish grin. “But this is hardly the place for one to wander off. Between my capture and the two separate attacks we’ve suffered in as many days, surely you must agree.” “I don’t disagree, but Ronan and Shadow are more capable than most. If they run into trouble they can’t handle on their own, they’ll call for us.” “What if they stray too far and we can’t hear them?” Calypso’s uncovered eye glittered in the firelight, the iris currently a warm amber. “They know the risks and have endured all that we have—more from the sounds of things. They’re smart enough to know how far they can safely venture.” Bast had wanted to pick up the log he’d been using as a seat and fling it up into the air. Why was he the only one who seemed to realize that believing in people’s abilities, whether the faith was justified or not, was what had gotten them all into this mess? Skill and reputation were not replacements for knowledge of their surroundings. No one knew how to prepare for the unknown, not completely. How could they? It was the exact reason they’d found themselves taken hostage by sentient shrubbery. And it wasn’t like he and Loren had asked to be plucked from their bed and absconded with by a small army of drakes and their ghastly riders either. These were the sorts of hazards one could not defend against. If he’d learned anything during his travels, it was to expect the unexpected. Calm was never a guarantee of safety, only the inevitable quiet heralding an oncoming storm. And Twilight’s Cove, with its many secrets, was more dangerous by far than any other realm he’d explored. On these sandy shores, threats were not a mere possibility; they were a guarantee. So if he, a notorious scapegrace, could so clearly see that, why in the name of all that was holy couldn’t anyone else? There were greater injustices in the world. Ones he’d personally suffered that ultimately changed the entire course of his life. But this? This arrogant naivete and willful stupidity felt like a damned crime that needed serious punishment. Nothing as painful as a public flogging, mind you, but perhaps something equally embarrassing. A naked parade while being lobbed with rotten fruit, for example. Just something humiliating and smelly enough to help reinforce the lesson. “You’d probably enjoy that, though, wouldn’t