He noticed her mood shift and steered their conversation to a less worrisome topic. “I have heard of your expertise with the bow and arrow.”
She wasn’t quite ready to let it go. “You seem to know a lot about me. How is that possible? You are a prisoner, chained like a criminal.”
He chuckled and finished his tart. “I hear much from my captors. They are inquisitive by nature, as well as murderous little cheats, but they love a good story. You have given them many over the years.”
She offered back the handkerchief, but he waved it away and she tucked it into her jacket pocket. “Unlike you, I have led a normal life, not exciting enough to draw anyone’s interest.”
“You caught Dylan’s interest, and he’s far from ordinary.”
“He loves me for who I am.” He loved her before he even knew she was real.
“Keep in mind, you were raised in an unorthodox manner.”
“Unorthodox for a first. I’m afraid in the human realm I am nothing very special.”
“Nothing special?” He stopped, his body suddenly rigid, his jaw tense. “The human realm is a spectacle of massive absurdity. One human trying to outdo another, not satisfied until they have embarrassed themselves not only in front of family and friends, but the whole world. Never say you are less than they. You are ten times—” He cut his tirade short.
The people around them had all stopped what they were doing to stare, blinking like owls after a mole. He drew in a deep breath and tightened his grip on her hand. “Forgive me. I hate hearing anyone with such obvious talents denigrate themselves. Please, show me your talent in the next competition.”
Immediately, a line of archers was before her, and beyond it, a dozen targets. Baun urged her forward and she took her place. They were allotted three arrows. A man shouted for the crowd to quiet and held up his hand. Kera notched her arrow along with the other archers and pulled the string back, resting it near her cheek. When the man lowered his arm, she released the string and the arrow shot forward, landing dead center. The other archers did passably well, but none as well as her. Polite applause sounded.
The man raised his hand again. She positioned the next arrow, and when his hand lowered, she let go. Once again her arrow shot forward. And when it hit, it spliced her first arrow in two. Ohhs and ahhs raced through the crowd. Never had Kera hit a target in the same spot, and never had she hit her own arrow.
The man raised his hand again, and when everyone was set, let it drop. This time Kera closed her eyes and let the arrow go, not worrying if the arrow would hit its mark or not. The crowd burst into thunderous applause.
Baun’s whispered words entered her ear. “Thus are what dreams are made of.”
She opened her eyes to see the third arrow had spliced the second one in two also. She lowered her bow and felt oddly empty.
“What is wrong? You won the golden arrow.”
In her hand she held a shiny gold arrow, her name inscribed along the shaft. When had they given it to her? It was then she remembered where she was. None of this was real. She held her prize out to Baun. “Take it. The win is not a fair one.”
“You won. I saw you.”
“This is all a dream.”
“Yes. And anything and everything is possible in a dream.”
“I want reality.” The word flew out on a catch, though she refused to cry in public.
Baun paused as if she were an oddity he’d never encountered. “Do you?”
“Yes.” She dropped the bow and golden arrow on the ground and faced him. “It is said you have more power than anyone. Is there any way you can help me wake up?”
Her question raced into the air, shaking the calm day. Gray clouds rushed overhead and thunder cracked in the distance. The light breeze steadily grew. Baun stood against the sudden influx of weather, impervious to its attack, his attention centered solely on Kera. “It won’t be easy. Nor pleasant once it’s done. Do you remember the last time you were awake?”
The vision of the multi-armed boy weaving a tight cocoon around her body made her shiver. She nodded and looked away. “Yes. I remember.”
People sped past, some knocking into Kera on their way to shelter. The wind rose, whipping her hair into her face. “I want to try. Will you help me?”
Thunder rolled closer and a crackle of light split the sky. Baun didn’t even flinch. “What do you plan to do once you wake?”
“Just…live.”
Her answer seemed to please him. “And so you shall.”
As the wind ripped through the open field, Baun faced Kera and held out his hands. She slipped her fingers in his and watched as he tapped into the remainder of his power. What she felt shocked her. What little he had was more than she ever dreamed of possessing. It rushed into her, sending her out of the dream and into consciousness.
The burrow walls wept, dripping and splashing into stagnant puddles along the edges. She was bound as far as her chest now, and she wasn’t alone. The boy’s back was to her, and she could hear him…chewing. His arms were in constant motion, turning whatever he held up to his mouth. She didn’t want to know what he was eating, afraid it would send her into a screaming fit.
She wiggled her fingers within the gooey interior of the cocoon, stretching it, sliding it inch by slow inch down her body. When it settled over her waist, she wriggled an arm free and started to do the same with the other. It was then she dared a peek at the boy. He sat frozen, his arms as still as a spider waiting for a fly.
He knew what she was doing. Without turning around, he began to sing. She tried not to listen, tried to fight the effects of his magic, but the lullaby slipped into her brain. A tear crawled down her cheek, and she called to Dylan, sending him her love one last time. Soon she stopped struggling and her eyes slowly closed as her breathing deepened.
Dreams fell all around her and she desperately grabbed for one and then another, but they slipped through her fingers time and time again. A new sort of nightmare began, one where she lived in a black void and could only watch as possibilities rushed by, tantalizingly close, but never attained.
Following
The low murmur of half a dozen soldiers as they search the maps drones in my ears. Reece and I have been “properly” dressed in button-down shirts—though without the detachable collars—lightweight jackets, finely pressed slacks, and dress shoes.
I’m sitting in a chair, my eyes closed, willing Leo back. The stress of not knowing where he’s gone or when he’s coming back is eating me alive. What if he’s gotten into trouble? That means I’m just sitting here, when I should be doing something. The thought burns my bones in an alarming way. I have to calm down. Hadrain wouldn’t be impressed if I suddenly combust and burn down his home.
I listen to the clock tick. I don’t bother looking when Wyatt and Halim raise their voices. Only when Halim smacks Wyatt on the forehead and calls him a useless piece of pond scum do I crack my eyes open and watch along with everyone else as Wyatt picks the boy up by the scruff of his neck and slams him in a chair facing the wall. “Time out. A human invention for bratty little kids. Stay put and no talking until I say you can move.”
Halim’s out of the chair and back to bugging Wyatt in less than five minutes.
Reece uncrosses his feet and shifts his weight restlessly in the chair opposite mine. He suddenly stands. “I’m going to find Signe.”
He’s across the room and out the door before I can blink.
Signe had left over thirty minutes ago to change and then check on Bodog, who’d opted to return outside. Hadrain’s glares even made me uncomfortable for the little guy. I still have a hard time believing he’d taken Kera when she was a child. Faldon said that Bodog had brought her straight to him, so she was never in any danger, but that he thought Hadrain wasn’t fit to father her made me nervous. The little man had never been wrong before.