As Crow walked back to his bed chambers, he could already feel his heart beginning to pound in his chest. Between his hesitation to face his nightmare yet again and his worry that Penelope was going to find out he was doing worse than he claimed, the thought of going to sleep that night was quite unappealing. However, he knew he couldn’t just stay up either. After three nights of poor rest in a row, his weary body begged him to lay down. If he attempted to stay awake until the morning, he would probably just pass out.

He let out his breath in a conflicted sigh, stepping into his room and closing the door behind him. His eyes wandered to his bed, and he swallowed apprehensively. [i]Maybe I’ll get lucky,[/i] he thought to himself again. When he’d had the dreams the first time as a child, there had been occasional nights when the nightmare hadn’t appeared. So, while it was slim, there technically was still a chance that he would make it through the night without waking up in a cold sweat in the morning.

Clinging to the hope, the viceroy reluctantly changed out of his day clothes and laid down for bed. He drew his blankets up to his chin to stave off the cold, closing his eyes and sending a brief prayer to the gods that he would make it through the night without facing his nightmare again.

After lying awake for a little while longer, his exhaustion grew too strong to fight anymore and he let go of consciousness, drifting off into a light sleep.

--

If the gods had been listening to his prayers in the past, they certainly weren’t anymore.

Crow jolted upright on his bed, clutching his chest where Jaxon’s sword had been mere seconds before. His breaths came to him short and shallow as he tried to regain his bearings. The task seemed to be getting harder to do the longer his nightmare plagued him. Though he knew in the back of his head that he was safe in the castle, it was difficult to shake off the vivid images of the slaughter that tried to convince him he was still in danger. He clenched his jaw, trying to will the gruesome scene out of his mind.

Still consumed with the aftereffects of his nightmare, the viceroy wasn’t aware that Preston was already in the room with him again. His attendant sat at the table by the window as usual, keeping an eye on his master in wait to approach him whenever he was coherent enough to handle a conversation. He’d brought another glass of water, but knew better than to try to bring it to the bed until his panic resided.

When the door suddenly burst open, Preston startled and spun around in his seat. The guards on the third floor had grown sick of Crow’s “disruption” lately, so he had thought they weren’t going to bother coming to check on him. So, as Penelope stepped in with her sword in hand, the servant’s eyes widened with fright. He froze for a moment before slowly standing up from the table. The idea of confronting a knight who outranked him was intimidating to say the least, but after the way the viceroy had reacted to the last guard who tried to help him, he knew he had to warn her off.

“Um,” he started nervously, trying to get his thoughts straight as he kept her sword in sight. “Collin doesn’t want any guests right now… Please, you shouldn’t be here.” Fighting past his nervousness, he made his way over to the door, gesturing to usher the knight out of the room.