“In Faerie. Not here.” He took her hands in his. “Are you in danger?”

He studied Rae, but no signs of distress were obvious. In truth, she looked as lovely as she did in her true mortal form. Oddly, though, she was wearing the plain dress her mortal body wore. Her hair was as long as it was in reality, tightly bound in the long braid he’d woven it into.

“I’m fine.”

“What are you doing?” He didn’t let go of her hands. “What if dreamwalking here is fatal? What if being here means you return to your body?”

She paused. “I needed to see you.”

“Rae…” He took one step back and caught her gaze. “Is that it? Is your body failing? Did you feel it? Some sickness? I can go to it—”

“No. I just needed to talk to you.” She looked wistful and lost for a moment. Hesitantly, she asked, “Can I see it? My body?”

Devlin re-created the cave where she’d fallen asleep so long ago. Behind her, a glass and silver coffin appeared. It took no concentration to fashion the details with precision: he’d made it himself. Every mortal year he opened it and checked on her body, which remained in a state of stasis since she’d stepped out of it. She’d lived in Faerie for over a mortal century, and as a spectral being within Faerie, she seemed able to live without aging. Her body, without her dream self inside of it, did not age, but if she returned to her body, all of the years she’d lived would become real, and her body would age—and die.

“I look the same,” she murmured, “but the cave has changed a bit.”

“I added some stabilizing beams. It was logical.” Devlin didn’t look behind him. He visited the real thing often enough that seeing the image of her body encased in glass was unnecessary. “I think the dress is still looking fine.”

“It will fall apart too. They all do.” Tears glistened on her charcoal-dark lashes. “Maybe I should finally change it.”

“If you prefer.” He’d suggested as much for years, but Rae had always insisted on being re-dressed in replicas of the dress she’d worn when she’d lain down in the cave that day. He thought it an odd insistence, but Devlin didn’t understand the mortal mind.

He had carried out her requests, refastening her into newer versions of the exact same dress when the old one fell to pieces, decaying like her body did not. They lasted longer since he’d picked her up from the damp cave floor and encased her frozen body in the glass box. Even though Rae and therefore her dresses were protected from the damp and the vermin in the cave, the material still fell apart over time, albeit slower.

Rae slipped her hands from his. “I have been visiting the mortal world for… what I think is fourteen mortal years.” She paused and looked up at him. “I visit Ani.”

He was suddenly grateful that this was a dream. In the waking world, he’d never allow himself the luxury of the extreme emotions that overtook his logical mind. Terror and envy and betrayal filled him.

A chair appeared behind him as he started to stumble. He sank into it. “You walk in the Hound’s dreams? Why, Rae? How could you… I don’t believe… why?”

Rae had removed the cave from his dreamscape and replaced it with a snowy field. “I want you happy. I want you to have everything you need. I want to tell you things I… cannot.”

“Rae?”

“I want to tell you so much,” Rae whispered as she sank to the snowy ground that stretched as far as he could see and peered up at him. Tears rolled over her cheeks. “You must keep her safe, Devlin, from those who want to hurt you both.”

Devlin brushed her hair back from her face. “Rae—”

Rae clutched his wrist in her cold hand. “Protect her, but be careful of yourself. Do you hear m—”

Her words stopped as Devlin startled awake. He was on the too-short sofa in the train, and something pressed on his throat. He felt like he was choking. He opened his eyes to see Seth’s serpent. The reptile’s attentive presence was disconcerting.

Devlin muttered, “Begone.”

It watched him through unreadable eyes for another several heartbeats and then slithered to the floor.

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been drugged, and while the medicinal draught had rejuvenated him, it had apparently led him to have ridiculous dreams.

Devlin stood and took a clean shirt and jeans from the stack of clothes on the chair where Seth had obviously left them. I’m here too often if he has extras of my clothes on hand. He was the assassin of the High Court. For all of eternity, Faerie had feared him, yet a recently-made-fey creature had drugged him and apparently looked into his future.

A faery Sorcha hadn’t told me was a seer.

Devlin hadn’t ever responded well to surprises.

The door opened, and the seer in question stepped into the room. He dropped a threadbare satchel onto the kitchen table. “Good morning, brother.”

“Stop calling me ‘brother’ and”—Devlin pointed at the coiled boa—“put that back in its cage. I dislike it crawling over me.”

“Boomer likes you.” Seth scooped the snake up into his arms and carried it to the terrarium. He glanced at Devlin assessingly. “You’re looking much better. A few more days to recover before you leave would—”

“Cease.” Devlin dropped the clothes back onto the chair and walked over to Seth. “I’m here to look after you.”