When I open my eyes, the first thing I hear is screaming. Once again, I'm back in Moonbright's palace—a place that was once so familiar to me—but this time, it's foreign. I don't recognize anything. I'm standing in the entryway, trying to get my bearings. Wherever I turn, the screaming gets louder.

Allie. Nicole. Ethan. Their names rush through my head, filling me with panic and fear. The screaming turns to begging. Pleading. "Lauren! Where are you?" "Somebody help us! Please!" "Lauren, help!"

That's when I hear a different voice, one that stops my heart and steals my breath. "You have to choose." Slowly, fear coursing through me, I turn around and come face-to-face with Queen Adelaide—a woman who had become my second mother. There's no love on her face now, though.

No—hatred distorts her lovely features, turning her gaze black and cold. I stare, dumbfounded, until a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye makes me look away. My eyes widen as a cry escapes my lips. Juliette appears before me, dragged by a tall man with a cloak obscuring his features. Aside from a split lip and a black eye, she seems unharmed.

When the man pulls the cloak back and exposes his face, I go limp as my eyes widen. "She's right, Lauren."

My legs buckle, but before they can give out, a solid body is behind me, taking my weight quickly. "Lean on me," a rough voice says, lips very close to my ear. Fabian?

I can't even process the shock flowing through me at the sound of that voice. My sisters' and husband's voices blur together as my father moves to stand beside Queen Adelaide. The smile on her face is so familiar, yet it sends fear coursing through me. I can't look away from the malice in her gaze.

This has to be a nightmare—the only question is, how do I wake up? All I can see are the faces of Queen Adelaide and my father; all I can hear are my sisters' and my husband's voices. "Lauren! Where are you?" "Somebody help us, please!" "Lauren, help!"

A heartbeat later, my legs do give out. Fabian is still there, supporting me. I try to free myself from his grip, but my exhausted body refuses to obey. "I—I have to help them," I murmur weakly. Even as the words leave my mouth, he tightens his grip.

Queen Adelaide pulls a dagger seemingly out of nowhere and hands it to my father. Before I can even blink, the man from before is in front of me again, only this time, it's not Juliette he's holding.

The scream that comes out of me is guttural, unnatural. I'm struggling against Fabian's grip, trying desperately to get to Ethan. I'm crying, shouting, screaming. His eyes are locked on mine, filled with concern, love, and worry. The grin that my father throws my way is sadistic, dripping with hatred.

When he speaks, Queen Adelaide joins him, their voices cold and harsh. "We told you, Lauren: you have to choose." I barely hear them.

It happens in a split second, yet I know the memory will last forever. Something vital inside me shatters irrevocably as the dagger plunges into Ethan's chest, right where his heart is. I see his eyes widen, then go blank. When Fabian finally releases me, my legs give out. I fall to the ground, crawling toward Ethan's prone body.

Another scream breaks from my lips, primal and shrill. "Ethan! Ethan, can you hear me? Please, you have to wake up! I can't lose you! I can't... I can't—" My words break off as the breath dissolves in my chest, leaving me gasping, choking.

Fabian is in front of me in a heartbeat, gripping my arms and speaking, but I can't hear anything. I'm gasping as I try desperately to get air into my lungs. Every time I close my eyes, I see the dagger plunging into Ethan's chest—see the light vanish from his eyes.

Whether it's the shock or grief or something else entirely, something pulls me from the nightmare. I don't even realize I'm crying until a tear drips onto my white-knuckled grip on the blankets. Almost involuntarily, I shrink away, convinced that I'm still there—that this is a trick, an illusion. When a warm, strong hand grips my own, I can't help but jerk away.

He holds firm, despite my continued attempts to scramble away. I can't look at him without seeing that same image—the light leaving his eyes seconds after the dagger plunged into his chest. "Hey, it's me. Breathe. You're safe."

Ethan's words are muffled and warped as if he's speaking underwater. "Lauren? Can you hear me?"

Like in the dream, the breath dissolves in my chest, leaving me wheezing and choking. Without warning, claustrophobia smothers me, a strangled gasp escaping me as I rip my hands from his. I barely have enough composure to remember to grab my flats and shove them on.

Nearly tripping over my feet, I rush out of our suite, making a beeline for the stables. The world rushes past me in a blur of color and sound, but I don't notice. I'm astride Fleetfire in seconds, forgoing tack once again. Her sharp neigh cuts through the tense silence as I press my heel into her side.

"Ride, girl." The words end in a choked gasp, but she obeys without protest. Her hooves are loud on the stable floor for a heartbeat before being muffled by the ground. We reach the forest in seconds, not even pausing. With every stride, my chest tightens even more. I'm all but gasping, struggling to bring air into my lungs.

I'm so distracted by the impending panic attack that neither Fleetfire nor I notice the horse and rider approaching us until I hear the panting of another horse. I don't react quickly enough: before I can pull on the reins, I'm over her head, slamming into the ground. I twist in midair, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision and landing on my shoulder. My ankle, however, takes the brunt of the impact.

I can all but hear the crack, pain lancing through me with the force of a dozen daggers. Swallowing a scream, I hiss an agonized breath through gritted teeth as I move to a sitting position.

Fleetfire, thankfully, doesn't seem to be injured; she walks over to me, nuzzling my neck, whickering softly. "I'm okay, girl," I gasp out. I think she can sense my lie, however, because she doesn't move when I slowly—painfully—attempt to stand. It feels like I'm standing on a bed of knives. Shooting, burning pain lances through my ankle as I put weight on it, faltering almost immediately.

I look around, foolishly hoping that whoever almost rode into us would have stayed behind. No such luck; it's just the two of us, my labored breathing and Fleetfire's worried snorts the only sound. My entire body trembles as the pain overtakes the adrenaline in my veins. I fall back to the ground and crawl over to a tree, tightly gripping the reins and all but collapsing against the trunk.

Closing my eyes, I take slow, deep breaths. When I open them, I find I can think somewhat clearer. "Hello?" I shout, knowing the unlikelihood of anyone hearing or responding. Unsurprisingly, silence greets me. Gritting my teeth, I gently grasp my ankle, biting back the scream that crawls up my throat.

It's already swollen to twice its usual size, turning an ugly shade of purple. "Can anyone hear me?" I shout again. Panicked tears spring to my eyes as the words again go unanswered. Thankfully, it's midafternoon; the sun shines high above the canopy of trees over our heads. But that also means that no one knows where I am.

I didn't tell anyone about my ride—it was more of a spur-of-the-moment thing. Ethan will most likely figure it out first; how long until he comes to find me? Panting through gritted teeth, I struggle to push down the panic swelling inside me. There's nothing to do now but wait.

Closing my eyes again, I take slow, even breaths. One after the other until the panic again fades away, replaced by exhaustion. Suddenly, blinking becomes a monumental task. I know I should stay awake in case someone comes by, but it's next to impossible to keep my eyes open.

I must fall asleep because the next thing I know, someone is shaking me awake. I wake with a start, biting back a scream as the movement makes pain lance through my ankle. "Lady Lauren? Can you hear me?"

My vision is blurry when I open my eyes, but it clears after every blink. Wyatt is kneeling before me, eyes wide and filled with worry as they flick from my face down my body. "Prince Ethan sent us to find you. He was worried when you didn't return." He turns his head, looking at someone I can't see. "I found her! She's here!"

The words haven't even finished echoing before more guards appear, the same worry in their eyes as they scan my body. Wyatt turns to one of them, a sandy-haired man with bright blue eyes. "Jameson, send word to the prince that we found Lady Lauren but she's injured."

Jameson nods, eyes flicking over to mine. I give him a small, grateful smile in response. "Yes, sir." With one last worried glance at me, he swings atop his horse and rides away.

Wyatt doesn't tear his gaze from mine. "Can you stand?" he asks, gesturing to my ankle.

I quickly shake my head, thinking of my earlier failed attempt. He nods, extending his hand. With a sharp inhale, I grasp his hand and pull myself off the ground. Before I can fall again, he tightens his grip, keeping me upright.

"Is she yours, my lady?" Wyatt asks, gesturing to Fleetfire. The mare hasn't left my side, standing guard over me while I slept, and now standing patiently by my side.

She snorts, puffing warm air into my hair. I nod, tears springing to my eyes. "Yes," I whisper. Her warm blue eyes regard me worriedly.

One of the remaining guards (whose name I can't recall) steps forward, gesturing to Fleetfire. I nod gratefully. "I'll see you soon, girl. Thank you for everything." I stroke her muzzle, kissing it once before letting go.

Without a word, Wyatt leads me over to his horse, gently lifting me into the saddle. The large black gelding waits patiently for his rider, not flinching at the extra foreign weight on his back. He mounts in one smooth movement, gripping the reins with practiced ease.

I let out a heavy breath, exhaustion clouding my senses. I don't mean to fall asleep again, but the lull of the gelding's hooves and the distant pain of my ankle make for a dangerous combination. When I open my eyes, we're back at the palace. Ethan is standing before us, his eyes filled with worry.

He gently helps me down, taking my weight effortlessly. As I look into his eyes, guilt comes crashing down on me. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you where I was going. By the time I—" My rambling is quickly interrupted by his finger on my lips.

"We'll worry about that later," he says quietly, eyes never leaving my face. "For now, you need to rest."

As if his words are a command, my eyelids begin to droop. He kisses my forehead, looking into my eyes one last time before exhaustion overtakes me completely.

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