Namara's POV:

“What’s wrong, Alex?” I asked, noticing his unreadable expression, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed my wrist, pulled me into my room, and shut the door with a force that rattled the frame.

“Alex, what are you…?”

He turned to me, jaw tight. “Why did you keep asking me about a dream on the coronation night?”

I blinked in confusion. “What dream?”

His eyes hardened. “You asked me if I was having a dream about you getting killed. ...