Her sleeping pills were meant to eliminate even her dreams, to plunge her into total, oblivious blackness, but they hadn’t worked last night, either. She’d spent hours in the throes of nightmares, tossing and turning so violently that the moss-colored duvet slipped off the bed and onto the floor. She had dreamed of him, of course. The Fairy King and his bone crown. She could not remember a time when she had ever dreamed of anything else. Sometimes the nightmares were sliced through with images of Master Corbenic, but they flipped back and forth so rapidly that at some point, they appeared
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