by Celeste Hall
Prison of Dreams
A Historical Romance.
How would you live your life, if your soul was already damned? Emily Torr was accused of witchcraft and left to die in the cold dark bowels of Lord Stephen’s prison. She is haunted by strange dreams, and when those dreams take a frightening turn toward reality, she must confront her darkest fears while fighting to save the kingdom from falling into the hands of a tyrant.
A note from the author:
I wrote this story when I was still in my early teens. It was inspired by a vivid dream that I couldn’t seem to get out of my head. After dwelling on it for weeks I finally sat down and wrote it all out. Over the next few years I would occasionally stumble across it, read it again, and maybe change a few things here and there. But I always loved it for its heart!
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An Excerpt from Prison of Dreams
Warning: This excerpt contains spoilers!
“What is it? Why are you afraid?”
“It’s nothing. Just leave me be.”
She tried to press him aside, but he caught her wrists and studied her face.
“I remember now. That night Philip introduced you to Lord Griffon. You told him of being tried for witchcraft.”
Emily winced and struggled to free herself.
“It was terrible for you. Both having your friends betray you, and then suffering in the dungeon.” His head tilted slightly as some memory flickered across his mind’s eye, “Alone, in the dark.”
She shivered involuntarily as his words brought the pain back.
“I never thought I would be warm again. I believed I would never again feel the sun on my skin, or taste food that was not rotted beyond what could even be considered pig slop.”
Without meaning to, she went on to whisper of her darkest fears.
“Sometimes, I go back there,” she admitted, pleading with him to understand, “My mind. My thoughts. I go back there, and I’m trapped again in the darkness. I’m frightened, Rourke. It makes me feel as if reality is breaking down all around me. I can’t be sure anymore. What is a dream and what is real?”
“Emily…” he started, but she rushed on without pausing.
“I have dreams. Strange dreams. And sometimes, they come true. I’m afraid because I don’t know if this is all just a dream within a dream, and any moment now I’ll wake back up inside the prison cell. Maybe I’ve been there all along and those moments of terror are my mind’s way of warning me that I’m still there!”
“Emily,” he said again, catching her cheek in his palm and raising her head to meet his gaze.
She was silenced by the heat she saw there.
Not the flash of anger she was accustomed to, but a gentle warmth of understanding, which made her wish she could reach out and bury herself against him.
Brushing his thumb across her cheek, he held her gaze.
“You are safe, and you’re awake. This is not a dream.”
