Vale of Dreams

I wake up in a languid tangle of limbs, the scent of perfume hanging in the air, sickly sweet. Shadows claim most of the room, the heavy curtains drawn tight against the morning light. Or, for all I know, the afternoon light. Only a sharp glint of the sun pierces through a crack, casting a sliver of gold across the stone floor.


My head rests between someone’s breasts. I can’t remember her name, but I do remember the way she screamed mine.

Right now, my bed cradles the sultry forms of two naked women—one with long black hair that cascades over her shoulders, the other with white-blond curls that frame her sleeping face like a halo. It’s her full, round breast that I’m lying on.

So, no, it’s not as terrible here as I imagined it would be when my father, the king, ordered me back to the bleak landscape of Brocéliande. He thinks he’ll force me to marry a countess—but that is something I have no intention of doing, and it didn’t take me long to find other women here to keep me company while I work on a plan to forge my own fate.

The women’s breaths rise and fall in a rhythm that lulls me back toward the edge of dreams. Last night, I drifted into their dreams. For hours, I wandered through their fantasies of coronation, of scepters and crowns, of ruthless rule. They’re not getting near the throne, but they can,
perhaps, ease my boredom while I’m stuck here.

I turn my head to kiss the blonde woman’s nipple, my tongue flicking over it. As I do, the dark-haired woman grabs my bicep. She’s awake now, pouting at me, pulling me away from the blonde. Her large, green eyes
blink.

“You hardly paid any attention to me last night, Prince Talan. It’s not fair.”