He reclined back on an elbow, and my gaze dipped from his eyes to the lean length of his stomach. “You were speaking in your sleep.”

“What?” That jerked my traitorous eyes back to his.

Casteel nodded. “You were saying something that reminded me of a…disturbing nursery rhyme, to be honest. Something about a pretty flower.”

The moment those words left his mouth, the nightmare came back in a rush of startling clarity. “What a pretty poppy. Pick it and watch it bleed,” I murmured. “Not so pretty any longer.”

“Yes. That.” An eyebrow rose. “And it’s as disturbing as it was the first time around.”

“I can’t believe I was saying that.”

“Neither could I when I heard it,” he commented. “Has someone said that to you before?”

“I…” My brows furrowed as I shook my head. “I don’t know. Sometimes, the nightmares I have of that night aren’t exactly how things happened, but I don’t remember ever hearing that before.” I curled my fingers around the collar of the nightgown. “And I…I try not to think about it when I wake up. I could’ve heard it before and forgotten. Sometimes, it’s—”

“Disorientating,” he finished for me.

I nodded, sifting through what I remembered. Nausea rose as I did. I could almost smell the blood, feel my mother’s wet hand against— “Someone spoke to my mother. In my nightmare. There was a voice right before the Craven reached us.” My eyes widened. “I think it was the one who said the thing about the flower, and my mother responded. But I…”

Frustration ate at me as I tried to make sense of the garbled word I’d thought she said. It could’ve been more than one word. I could almost see her lips moving, but it could also be a false memory. “I don’t… I can’t remember.”

“Maybe it will come to you later.”

“Maybe.” I sighed. “But I don’t even know if what I heard was real.”

“It might not be. Sometimes, things in the past seem to overlap one another in dreams. My capture often gets mixed up with Malik’s.” He eased onto his back, his eyes on the exposed beams of the ceiling. “The night of the Craven attack isn’t the only ordeal you’ve been through.”

My fingers slipped from the neckline of my gown. I knew at once that he was referring to the Duke. Heat crept up my throat, and I hated the shame that caused it—the humiliation of what he did to me that I’d been unable to stop. And as I’d just learned, if anyone knew how that felt, it was Casteel. He’d had it far worse than me, though. “How did you find out about the Duke? I never told you.”

“About his lessons?” Tension bracketed his mouth. “Duke Teerman was feared but not respected among his Royal Guards. It took only the smallest of compulsions for one of them to share what they knew.”

My mouth dried at the knowledge that he’d used compulsion, but it wasn’t that he’d done it that caused the reaction. It was the reminder of what he could do. That kind of ability was frightening—and awe-inspiring. And not using it whenever he could was also impressive. I doubted that I’d have that kind of strength of character.

I frowned.

Was I actually complimenting his character? The man who had lied, kidnapped me, and held me captive?

I obviously needed more rest.

“The thing you repeated in your sleep?” he said, jarring me from my thoughts. “It sounded like something the Duke might’ve said to you. It’s perverse enough for that bastard.”

Casteel was right. It was perverse enough for Duke Teerman. The voice had sounded familiar. Could he be right? Was it the two…ordeals overlapping? There were times I didn’t quite remember everything from the time spent in his private offices, when the pain of the canings had left me in a semi-lucid state.

“How often did he do it?” Casteel asked quietly. “Engage in his lessons?”

I clamped my mouth shut.

Casteel turned his head toward me. “I know what he did. I know that he wasn’t always alone. And I know that, sometimes, it only lasted a half an hour. Other times, the guard lost track of the time.” His features were sharp and stark. “And I know that he preferred to use the cane against bare flesh.”

Pressure clamped down on my chest at the image of Lord Mazeen holding my hands to the table, preventing me from covering my chest, stopping me from any shred of dignity. “Whenever he was disappointed in me,” I replied roughly. “He was often disappointed.”

His lips thinned. “If I had known that Lord Mazeen joined him, he would’ve been staked to that wall right alongside the Duke.”

I lifted my gaze to his. “I’m glad you didn’t. If you had, then I wouldn’t have gotten to see the look on his face when I sliced off his hand and then his head.”

Casteel stared at me, the corners of his lips curving up. His lips parted, and I saw a hint of his fangs. The dimple in his right cheek appeared, and then his left. I felt a curling motion in my stomach. “So incredibly violent, my Princess.”

The curl moved even lower. “I’m not your Princess.”

He chuckled as he turned his head away. “You think you can go back to sleep?” he asked. “We probably have a couple more hours before Kieran or someone will be banging on this door to make sure you haven’t found a way to murder me in the middle of the night.”

I rolled my eyes.

“As soon as the storm blows over, we’ll leave for Spessa’s End.”

I knew very little about Spessa’s End. Only that it was a small town similar to New Haven, sitting on the edge of Stygian Bay. It was the closest town to Pompay, the last Atlantian stronghold during the war. One of the Priestesses had told me that Stygian Bay was the gateway to the Temples of Eternity, overseen by Rhain, the god of Common Men and Endings. She’d described the Bay as black as the night sky.

Lying down, I turned onto my side, but I didn’t sleep. Instead, I stared at the dying flames, thinking of the Duke, the nightmare, and the knowledge that there would be little chance of escape between here and Spessa’s End.

“You’re not sleeping, are you?” Casteel asked sometime later.

“How did you know?”

“You’re rocking over there like you’re a babe being wooed to sleep.”

“I am not—” I swallowed a groan as I realized that I was doing exactly that. I stilled my lower half. “Sorry. It’s an old habit from when I was a child. I usually can’t sleep after the nightmares,” I admitted after a few seconds.

“Is that when you sneak off to explore the city?”

Since he couldn’t see me, I grinned. “Sometimes. It all depended on how late it was.”

“Well, there’s no city for you to explore,” he said, and I felt the bed shift as he moved. “I’m confident you remember how adept I am as a sleep aid.”

Sparks danced over my skin. Of course, I remembered the night in the Blood Forest, when he’d slipped his hand between my thighs, and for the first time in my life, I’d discovered what pure pleasure was. I tried to block those images. “That’s not necessary.”

“That’s disappointing.”

“That’s your problem—” I sucked in a sharp breath as I suddenly felt him against my back. I twisted. “What are you doing?”

“Holding you,” he answered, curving an arm over my waist.

My heart bounced like a child’s ball. “I don’t—”

“That’s all I’m doing,” he cut in. “I sometimes find that being close to another helps me fall asleep.”

I wondered how he’d gained that knowledge. Instead, I asked, “Then why didn’t you suggest that in the Blood Forest?”

“Because this is not nearly as fun or interesting as what I did then,” he replied. “I do have that diary around here somewhere. You know, the one with the throbbing co—”

“I know exactly which journal you’re speaking of. And that won’t be necessary either.”

“That’s all so disappointing.” He settled his head behind mine as he all but pulled me down. “I need my sleep, and that’s not going to happen when it feels like I’m on a boat.” He paused. “A rickety one.”

“I wasn’t rocking that much!” I denied, wiggling to put space between us.

“I wouldn’t advise that,” he said, voice gruff as his arm tightened.

“Why?”

“Squirm a few more inches lower, and I’m sure you’ll find out why.”

My eyes popped wide as I grew very, very still. Was he…? Was he aroused? Simply because he was lying in bed next to me? Was that all it took? After what we’d just talked about?

I bit down on my lower lip. Sometimes, all it took for me was to look at him, and I’d feel a certain way. Knowing that he could experience all the want and desire after what he went through was a relief. What he felt now had nothing to do with what had been done to him. What I felt when he touched me had nothing to do with how I felt when the Duke placed his hands on me. I knew that.

And I shouldn’t be shocked to discover that Casteel was attracted to me. That had been abundantly clear unless…that too had been an act.

No, I didn’t think it was an act.

There’d be no reason to force the attraction now, especially not when it was just us—

“I can practically hear the wheels of your brain turning, Princess,” he said.

“Why do you believe I’m thinking about anything?” I demanded.

“Because you couldn’t be stiffer. Sleep, Poppy. We have a lot to talk about tomorrow.”

The marriage.

Our future.

Two things that were irrelevant because the first was never going to happen, so there could be no future for us.

Besides, how was I supposed to sleep with him curled around me like one of those small, fluffy animals that lived in trees near the capital? What were they called? I couldn’t remember. I’d only seen drawings of them in a children’s book I’d once found in the Atheneum. They were cute and looked soft, but Vikter had once told me that they were vicious little creatures.