Crow dreamed he was in the village of Tamsworth.

All around him, a market was bustling with activity. Vendors called to the crowd, encouraging them to come see their wares and tempting lookers with low prices. Buyers flitted from stand to stand among them, drawn like bumble bees to colorful flowers. The chaos was deafening but also exhilarating in its own, unique way that sent thrills of excitement through the thief. He couldn’t remember why it had been so long since his last visit.

He wove through the sea of people, his feet carrying him effortlessly between them as he joined their exploration of the secrets the market had to offer. The sounds of their cheerful voices were musical. They lifted his spirits and painted a smile on his lips as he wandered among them. He couldn’t recall why he had come to the market, but he didn’t care. He was too caught up in his intrigue with the exotic wares of the traveling merchants. Everything was new and strange in a captivating way.

For a while, he meandered about the marketplace, bouncing from stand to stand with the rest of the villagers. However, as he did, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something; that something was off. He just couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Disturbed by the foreboding tug at his heart, he slowed to a stop and spun in a circle, looking around at all the happy people in the market. There was no sign of danger anywhere. He frowned, confused why he seemed to be the only one with a sense of dread. If something was wrong, surely someone else would notice it too, right? But nothing seemed out of place.

Suddenly, he felt his heart begin to race, and a terror gripped him that made his breath catch in his throat. He brought a hand to his chest. He had an intense urge to look up, but he somehow knew that if he did, he was going to break the spell. The cheerful marketplace was an illusion, but he didn’t want to let it go. He wanted to hold on to the dream because the reality was too frightening to face.

But the urge was too strong to fight.

Against his own will, his gaze lifted to the sky, and his eyes widened with horror. The once-blue canopy had turned blood red, like a gruesome sort of sunset. He stared at it, transfixed, until his attention was ripped away by an agonized scream. All around him, the market had plunged into chaos. Knights on horseback rode through the streets, cutting down anyone and everyone in their path, and bodies had already begun to litter the ground.

Crow’s breaths came to him short and shallow as panic began to well up inside of him. He turned and ran, sprinting as fast as his now child-sized legs could carry him toward an overturned cart nearby. If he could just make it there, he knew he would be safe. The knights wouldn’t see him. He could just wait until they left.

He had almost made it when the tax collector cut him off.

The thief skidded to a stop, staring at the man on his horse like a bird before a serpent. His eyes were fixed on the ebony mare’s bloodied hooves, stained crimson with the blood of his own people. He wanted to run, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He knew he was going to die. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a scream of his own just as the knight’s sword pierced his flesh.

“Goodbye, stray.”

Crow’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the sickeningly familiar voice. Suddenly, he was no longer in Tamsworth; he was in Jaxon’s camp. The murderous thief was standing before him with his sword pushed through his middle, all the way up to its hilt. He gagged, feeling the blood well up in the back of his throat.

“Don’t…” the word came out, weak and pathetic, as he begged for his life. It only seemed to encourage Jaxon more. A sinister smile contorted the other thief’s face just before he ripped the blade out, and everything turned scarlet as the sky…

--

Crow gasped and sat up with a jerk, clutching at his chest where Jaxon had stabbed him. It took a moment for him to regain his bearings enough to realize he wasn’t in the thieves’ camp. He was in the castle, and there was no sword in his chest either. Still, he couldn’t stop the trembling that had taken over his body. It had felt so real. He could have sworn he had just relived it.

He lifted his shaky hands to his head, trying to slow his breathing. “Just a dream…” he murmured to himself, as if saying it out loud would make him believe it. He repeated it a few more times under his breath until his heart finally stopped hammering so painfully in his chest. He let his hands fall to his lap, his jaw hanging open slightly as he panted with adrenaline. It may have been a dream, but it had been a vivid one. He found it difficult to completely shake off the unease that wrenched his stomach.

Still on edge, the viceroy startled as his door suddenly opened and Preston stepped inside. The attendant’s skin was slightly flushed, as if he had been running. He stared at him with wide eyes for a moment before he hurried over to his bedside. “Are you okay?” he asked concernedly, resting a hand on his arm. “Do you need me to get Eldon?”

“I’m fine,” Crow shook his head, leaning away from the boy’s touch. He didn’t want Preston to feel him tremble.

“I heard you scream from halfway down the hall,” Preston knitted his brow in disbelief. “It sounded like you were in pain.”

[i]I screamed?[/i] Crow blinked. He’d had nightmares in the past, but he’d never screamed out loud before—at least, not to his knowledge. “I’m fine,” he repeated, forcing himself to climb down from the bed. His legs felt weak, but they didn’t give out underneath him. He turned back to the attendant. “Help me put the linens back in the wardrobe. I was too tired to put them away last night, so I just shoved them under the bed.”

Preston eyed him with a frown, and for a moment, the viceroy worried he wouldn’t drop the subject. However, after a pause, he nodded compliantly. “Okay.”

Crow sighed quietly and sat down on the floor with the boy as they worked together to untie the mass of sheets and fold them neatly. The task took most of the morning, since Preston was a bit perfectionistic, and the thief’s hands were still unsteady, but at least it helped him take his mind off his dream. When they finished, the viceroy reluctantly accepted his servant’s help to get dressed and then made his way to the Great Hall for breakfast, wondering if he would even be able to eat while his stomach was still filled with rocks.