DISCLAIMER: The author's imagination and passion are the only sources of inspiration for this novel, which is a work of dedication. Parallels between these pages and the past or present may be apparent to some readers, but they are completely coincidental. You are free to interpret this art anyway you see fit, and it is meant for your enjoyment.

As midnight approached, the joyous ambiance of the Summer Gala reached its pinnacle. The soothing hum of enchanted lanterns and the aroma of pricey perfume permeated the air. Finally satisfied with wine and lobster, Reinn had started to unwind, believing that the worst of the social conflict had passed.

She was wrong.

The assault was a whisper rather than a scream. The ballroom lights flickered as Reinn made her way to the balcony for a breath of fresh air. A strange, violet mist—unnatural and heavy—began to ooze from the shadows.

"Reinn, get back!" Dyierrean's voice broke like a whip.

It was the corrosion of magic that he had first detected. Three masked people wearing the emblems of a long-forgotten cult leaped out of the shadows before Reinn could even turn. The woman who had emerged as the new heart of the nobility was the target, not the Emperor.

Giywon was a golden blur. Instead of waiting for his guards, he pulled out a ceremonial blade that was hidden and glowed with the white-hot heat of the Dragon's fire. "Touch her, and I will burn your souls from existence!"

Chaos ensued in the ballroom. Dyierrean moved like a ghost, a terrible violet light shining from his hands. A blade intended for Reinn's throat was deflected by him, and the metal broke against his magical shield.

After arguing all night about bread and dances, the two adversaries were now standing next to each other. The Lioness was literally surrounded by a wall of power made up of the Dragon and the Wolf.

"On your left, Dyierrean!" Giywon shouted, his blade carving an arc of fire through the air.

Without looking, Dyierrean unleashed a forceful blow that sent an assassin hurtling into a marble pillar. "Keep your eyes on the door, Giywon! There are more coming!"

However, the assassins used more than simply steel. One of the last of the physical assailants broke a glass vial on the ground as they fell. Swirled by a sinister spell, a thick, sweet-smelling purple vapor exploded.

Reinn gasped as she was trapped in the middle of the cloud. Her vision became fuzzy. The ballroom's gold and silver faded into a murky gray.

Dyierrean yelled, "Reinn!" and caught her as she fell.

A moment later, Giywon appeared, his face blanched with a fear never seen on a battlefield. "She's not bleeding. Why isn't she waking up?"

As he hurried forward, the royal physician's face went pale as he examined the remains of the vial. "It's the Dreamer's Curse. Her soul has been pulled into a deep stasis. She... she won't wake up until the poison clears her spirit."

The Hylde manor, usually a place of booming laughter and golden light, fell into a tomb-like silence.

Reinn slept in bed for seven days, her skin as pale as moonlight, her breathing so faint that the silk sheets hardly trembled. She had the appearance of a fallen goddess in a marble statue.

For the men in her life, time had stopped, but the outside world went on.

Eyldion and Duke Eyrion were devastated; the Duke spent his evenings honing his sword in the corridor outside her door, promising to track down every single cult member.

But the most striking change was in the Prince and the Duke.

Giywon had essentially relocated to the guest wing of Hylde. His eyes were rimmed with red, his silver hair disheveled, and he had deserted his royal duties. He held her lifeless hand while sitting by her bed for hours. His voice cracked with the weight of a love he had discovered too late, and instead of speaking with his typical haughtiness, he muttered tales of their childhood.

"I'll give you the whole empire, Reinn," he whispered on the fourth night, his forehead resting against the edge of her bed. "I'll let you nap for a hundred years if you just open your eyes and call me a 'personal problem' one more time."

Dyierrean was a silent, ominous phantom on the other side of the bed. He was not sleeping. His power pulsed around the bed in a calm, protecting beat as he remained in the room's shadows. He was preventing the Dreamer's Curse from penetrating further into her soul by using his own life power.

He was worn out. His hands were shaking from the exertion of suppressing the evil power, and his blue eyes were sunken.

On the sixth night, Dyierrean murmured, "You told me I needed a nap," in a growl-like voice. "You were right. But I can't sleep until I know you're safe. Come back, Reinn. The silence in this house is unbearable without you."

The rivalry had vanished. On the seventh night, Giywon and Dyierrean sat across from each other in the dim candlelight of the sickroom.

Giywon said in a hollow voice, "If she wakes up, I won't force her into the palace. She deserves the peace she was looking for."

A rare moment of understanding passed between Dyierrean and the Prince as they exchanged glances. "And I will protect that peace. Even from you, Giywon."

"I know," Giywon replied softly.

The room's atmosphere abruptly changed. The curse's thick, delicious aroma started to fade. There was a little, barely noticeable twitch in Reinn's fingertips.

Her eyelashes fluttered. The green eyes that had captivated the empire slowly opened, blinking against the soft candlelight.

Two faces hovered over her, one dark and tired, the other silver and streaked with tears.

Reinn croaked, sounding like sandpaper, "Are you... still arguing?"

She learned everything she needed to know from Giywon's cry of relief and Dyierrean's knees hitting the ground from sheer tiredness. The Dragon and the Wolf had stayed at her side even though she had been asleep for a week.