Sera did not sleep.
Not after the dream. Not after the silver light. Not after Valerius stood in her doorway looking like the nightmare had reached through her skull and touched him too. Not after she heard Valerius and Cassian talking in the old war room in the eastern wing.
She sat on the bedroom floor until dawn. Back against the marble wall.
Dagger in her hand.
Knees drawn to her chest.
The lights stayed off.
The darkness was safer that way. Light showed too much. Light made shadows honest. Light turned the room into something real, and Sera was not ready for real. Not while smoke still lived in her lungs. Not while the memory of her father kneeling refused to leave her.
That was the worst part.
Not knowing.
Her mind circled the dream again and again, a starving animal pacing
