Darius clears his throat. “The Dream Stalker, grandson of Queen Morgan. There are rumors that the Dream Stalker can not only control dreams, but also the weather.” Wrythe blanches. “We don’t speak of the Fey prince. Are you a moron?” His words echo off the vaulted ceiling. Darius shrinks in his seat. “Don’t ever think of him,” Wrythe continues. “Don’t speak about him. Don’t bring him
