Dreams Lie Beneath

by Rebecca Ross

My plan was simple. Deceive Phelan. Take advantage of his resources while I positioned myself to uncover dirt on his family, because all noble families had secrets to hide. Set that secret free. Watch the Vespers fall, one by one, into disgrace, including Lennox in Hereswith.

This is such a stupid plan

“Take care, Clem,” Imonie said, waving a wooden spoon my way. “Pride always sets a snare.”

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I knelt and removed his helm. The streetlight spilled over his face. A face I knew alarmingly well. It was my father.

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“I wanted it to be you,” he said, his voice deep, rough-hewn. “When I returned to the museum for that final interview . . . gods, how I wanted it to be you.”

Ambrose would never want it, of course. I could smell his fear every new moon; he wanted you to lead a normal, safe life despite the bruise our curse had left on your soul. But fathers often underestimate their daughters, don’t they?”