Screams and sobs puncture my feverish dreams. This time, however, I'm in Moonbright. I hear Juliette sobbing, screaming my name. But every time I try to go to her, an arm wraps around my waist. I try to wiggle free, but my struggles are soon proven useless. Another voice—this one faint and worried—fills my ears, and I strain to hear it.

"Lauren! Lauren, where are you?" Ethan! Fear slices through me like a dagger, stealing my breath.

Before I even have a chance to open my mouth, a man appears in front of me. He's holding a sobbing, scared girl. Juliette's breathing is panicked, her eyes darting around. Bruises mar her otherwise perfect features, and one of her eyes is all but swollen shut.

When her eye lands on me, she desperately tries to break free. The man tightens his grip, drawing a whimper from her lips. However, when her gaze shifts to the man holding me, she lets out a frightened sob.

"Lauren, I'm sorry! I did everything I could, but..." She trails off, eyes widening in fear. A chill runs down my spine as the implications of that statement sink in.

As does the identity of the man holding me. He leans down so his lips are inches from my ear. When he speaks, I go limp in his arms. "Long time no see, Laur." The mocking yet casual way he uses my nickname makes my heart stop dead in my chest.

I whip my head around as I hear Ethan's voice again, louder this time. "Lauren! Can you hear me?" He's shouting, his voice carrying to where we are.

I open my mouth to shout back, but my father's voice makes any words dry up on my tongue. "You so much as utter a sound, and she dies." The man holding Juliette shakes her, drawing a cry from her throat. 

Something must pull me from the nightmare because the next thing I know, I'm back in our suite. My vision is blurry, but after a few blinks, it clears enough for me to see Ethan sitting in a chair beside the bed. His face is lined with worry as he scans my own. A heartbeat later, relief floods his features.

I struggle to push myself up to a sitting position. Even that little effort has me breathing heavily. Despite the fatigue still plaguing me, I throw my arms around Ethan's neck, holding him tightly. I open my mouth, but he shakes his head as we pull apart. "Don't speak, honey. Your body is still recovering. After everything that you've been through... We should have been more careful."

As the words leave his mouth, my heart skips a beat. He brushes a strand of hair off my forehead, caressing my cheek. I clear my throat, taking a deep breath. "Juliette," I whisper. "She... she's in trouble."

Ethan releases a tight breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "After you passed out, a servant found the letter she'd sent. You were right—something is going on. No one's heard from the royal family in weeks. We had the castle messenger analyze the letter, and he concluded it was fake." Fear shines in his eyes as he grips my hand.

He doesn't have the close relationship with Juliette that I do, but it's clear that he's as worried as I am. My breath suddenly catches as images from my dream float through my head. I've had vivid dreams my whole life, but this was different.

It was more than a dream; it was a premonition. It could be happening right now. Juliette could be—

I stifle a cry, unwilling to even think of the word. Dead. Terror fills every cell in my body as what I'd seen in my nightmare replays in my head. Ethan's eyes fill with concern at whatever he sees on my face. He opens his mouth to speak again, but before he can utter a word, a faint knock sounds on the suite door.

"Laur?" Allie's voice makes my heart simultaneously leap and lurch at the same time. My head had whipped towards the door at the sound, but I now turn back towards Ethan, meeting his gaze. My eyes are begging him not to mention this to Allie or Nicole. They'd only worry, and then they'd get Mom involved, and I don't want this to blow out of proportion.

"Please," I whisper, tears filling my eyes as my voice breaks. After holding my gaze for several seconds, Ethan finally gives in. I hate keeping things from my family, but I believe this is the right thing to do. Gwen appears by my bedside, those assessing eyes sweeping from head to toe. I hadn't even noticed her come inside the suite.

Ethan swiftly pulls her aside, hushed conversation passing between them. I take that opportunity to slowly (emphasis on slowly) make my way out of bed and to the suite door. I'm panting heavily when I finally open the door. Beads of sweat have popped up on my forehead, and my already-pale complexion has gone ghostly white, if such a thing is possible.

My sisters' faces are creased in concern as they see me. Allie scans my face while Nicole steps forward, taking my hand. "Is everything okay?" The latter's voice is tinged with worry, her eyes never leaving my face.

I blow out a shaky breath through my clenched teeth, closing my eyes. "Yeah," I reply as I open them. "I was just heading out to check on Queen Vanessa." The lie tastes bitter and wrong on my tongue, but I don't waver. Understanding fills both of my sisters' eyes. Even though they hadn't known the king well, they'd already expressed their condolences.

"I was going to take Fleetfire for a ride afterwards, give her a chance to stretch her legs. I haven't paid her near enough attention since we moved here." A knot of guilt forms in my stomach, this time for a completely different reason. This part, at least, is only half a lie. I am going to take her for a ride—right now.

I have always loved horses—from primary care to learning how to ride. For my 15th birthday, Mom and my sisters scraped together enough money to purchase Fleetfire from a slaughterhouse.

The poor mare was in such bad shape when they'd found her—it was sickening. You could see and practically count all of her ribs; her coat was covered in bruises caused by spurs. She was also severely malnourished and dehydrated. In the beginning, it had taken a lot of one-on-one training, late nights, and early mornings, but now Fleetfire and I were perfectly in sync.

It had also taken a while for her to gain back the weight and muscle she'd lost. She's a seven-year-old liver chestnut mare with a honey-colored mane and tail. I named her Fleetfire because when she gallops, her coat shines like fire. She has big glassy blue eyes and long delicate eyelashes. Her forelock has the cutest brown and black snip that I can't resist petting whenever I see her. Nicole nods, exchanging a glance with Allie.

"Okay. Have fun. Is Ethan going with you?" That was Allie. Her eyebrows crease in concern as the words leave her mouth.

When we'd first moved here, I'd craved independence. Don't get me wrong; I loved having Ethan and my sisters close by, but I soon began to feel claustrophobic. I'd lived so long under the watchful eyes of Fabian and the king that I'd forgotten about my love for horses. That's why I have to slip away at least once daily and have that uninterrupted time with her.

"Yeah," I lie. "He'll probably take Spirit." Spirit is Ethan's high-tempered Thoroughbred mare. He got her as a Christmas present from his parents a few years ago. He rides her as often as possible, but not as much as me. Truthfully, I had no idea whether Ethan had even planned a ride—more than likely, he'll be too busy—but the lie slips out before I can stop it.

Luckily, neither of them seems to notice. It's just as well—I can't have either of them discover my plan. I am riding, but I don't plan on letting Fleetfire stretch her legs. We will be riding hard and fast to get to Moonbright before dark. I have to find Juliette.

Her letter has haunted my thoughts these past few weeks. Even though I know it could be a trap (and most likely is), what if it isn't? What if she is in trouble?

Fear forms a pit in my stomach as I say goodbye to my sisters and leave my and Ethan's suite. I'm wearing a pair of grey flats that Allie got me for my most recent birthday, and I quickly pull them off, knowing they'll only restrict me. I know I'll probably end up tearing them off if I start running.

I make it to the stables in a flash. Whickers and neighs break the silence as various horses poke their heads over the stalls, aroused by my arrival. Typically, I would greet each of them or even offer a treat if I happened to be carrying one in my pocket. Not today: my focus is on my horse and my horse only.

Fleetfire pokes her head over the stall door, whickering at my approach. I don't even stop to greet her—that's how frantic I am. My hands shake as I hop once and swing my leg over her back. Once astride, I wrap my fingers in her mane, not bothering with a saddle and bridle. "Come on, girl," I say urgently, squeezing my knees against her sides.

She immediately leaps into a gallop, her long strides churning the dirt beneath her hooves. I'd left my hair unbound in my haste, and it flows behind me in the wind. Hours later, exhausted and panting, I arrive in Moonbright. Fleetfire's coat is soaked in sweat, and she's breathing heavily.

So am I—I'd forgotten what riding that fast felt like. Various heads turn at my arrival, but I pay them no attention. On shaky legs, I dismount, my bare feet hitting the ground with a silent thud.

I take Fleetfire's lead and start walking, trying to slow my breathing while keeping my expression calm. Everyone I pass either bows or curtsies, but again, I pay them no attention. When I finally reach the castle, my anxiety is so high I shake.

The guards at the front bow once before opening the door for me. I have taken only a step before a meaty arm grabs me around my waist. He jerks me against him, my breathing panicked and fast. When I hear his voice—familiar yet foreign—my heart stops.

"'Long time no see, Laur.'" His voice is low and gruff, almost as if he's trying to whisper. He tightens his grip on me, and I let out a whimper. Fleetfire's lead is jerked from my fingers, the rope burning my palm.

Without another word, he pulls me through a side door, taking me deeper into the castle. I go limp in his arms, fear and adrenaline choking me. When he finally releases me, I scramble away from him. We're in an unfamiliar room filled with clutter. A smile is on his face, but his eyes are filled with malice.

"Why?" I ask, my voice small. "Why are you doing this?" He steps toward me, and I let out a cry, jerking away from him.

Instead of answering, he snaps his fingers. A door to my left I hadn't noticed opens, and a man steps out. I hear a whimper and let out another cry. Juliette appears seconds later, her appearance the same as in the dream. He leans closer to her, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Aww. Your friend came to rescue you." She whimpers again, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Let. Her. Go." The steel in my voice surprises me, but I keep my face expressionless. I swallow hard as my father steps toward me.

It's my turn to squeeze my eyes shut, barely breathing as I wait with bated breath. Suddenly, I hear a heart-stopping scream, followed by razor-sharp pain. The next few moments are hazy. I open my eyes to see a panicked Juliette, face pale with shock.

Her mouth opens, but the words I can hear are muffled. "Lauren... Lauren, can you... Please..."

I close my eyes, gasping. When I open them again, another face swims into my vision, pale and worried. Queen Adelaide is beside her daughter, a hand over her mouth. Tears fill her eyes, but she hurriedly blinks them away as she turns to Juliette.

I don't remember closing my eyes again, but I must have because when I open them again, the pain has increased tremendously. I'm again clinging to consciousness, but I'm fighting a losing battle. Just like before, I hear a cry and a muffled thump before the pain overtakes me completely.

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