A time when people had wings and could lift into the sky without a second thought.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I arrived at the dreamscape in the midst of a snowstorm.
Wind and cold battered at the makeshift walls. I pushed myself up slowly, scanning the glowing space for Oliver. He knelt beside the tent flaps, peering out at the squall. A howling, frigid gust stirred locks of his golden hair and made one half of his face white as the snow blowing past.
“Welcome back,” Oliver said, sparing me a glance. Even that brief look betrayed the worry in his eyes.
I smiled, thinking of how relieved he’d be to hear that I was finally home. “Good to be back. Should we—”
“What is that?” Oliver asked, his voice sharp.
His blue eyes had gone to my shoulder. Looking down, I realized my wound was slightly peeking out from the unbuttoned collar of my shirt. Strange that it had come into the dreamscape with me. The marks were already beginning to scab over, and I felt nothing as I tugged my shirt to cover them. “Oh, this? Just a parting gift from the new Unseelie Queen.”
“A parting gift?” Oliver echoed, raising his eyebrows.
In response, I left the warmth of the nest we’d made and started putting clothes into my backpack. As I rolled my sleeping bag up, I talked about everything that had transpired since last night. My bizarre conversation with Viessa, breaking Collith out, reuniting with my family. I still didn’t mention what Laurie and I had done.
And Oliver, though he must’ve felt some of it while it was happening, didn’t ask.
This time, my telling only took a minute or so, and it felt like the first time I had a semi-optimistic ending. I’d gotten so used to hardship and grief that the words tasted like a lie in my mouth. But they were the truth—besides the conversation I still needed to have with Cyrus, all was well in the real world. Adam had taken in Gil without hesitation. Damon had forgiven me, and he was actually happy.
It was a strange feeling, knowing that everyone I loved was safe. For now, at least. If Belanor ever woke up, I had to be ready.
Just as I had been with my family, I was honest with Oliver about the potential danger. He didn’t ask any questions, and the worry in his eyes had only gotten brighter. I knew if Oliver wanted to talk about it, he would. But I didn’t need to ask what he was so concerned about—me. It was always me, no matter how strained things might be between us now. Quiet filled the tent, and my mind wandered as we continued preparations for the next part of our journey.
“Lightsabers,” I said suddenly, raising my head in a burst of excitement.
Oliver rubbed his eye, and his jaw flexed as if he were on the verge of a yawn. “What?”
I didn’t answer; I was too busy staring at him. Realizing there might be another reason for his silence. In all the years we’d known each other, I couldn’t recall ever seeing Oliver like this. Drained. Lined. Exhausted. What if… what if there had been other changes, other consequences to the shifts in the dreamscape? For as long as he’d existed, Oliver had never needed to sleep. But seeing him now, I suspected it was another way he was being affected by the fluctuating rules of this place. Why hadn’t he slept while I was gone?
The answer came to me instantly—because Oliver had been entirely alone in the tent, and thanks to me, monsters roamed these lands. If he’d allowed himself to fall asleep, there would’ve been no one to keep watch. No one to protect him while he was vulnerable.
Guilt struck my heart like a mallet to a cymbal. I was starting to get used to the terrible feeling, though, and I made sure Oliver didn’t see any outward signs of it.
Realizing that I still hadn’t responded to him, I cleared my throat. “Why haven’t we ever used lightsabers? They’d probably be way more efficient than swords or guns.”
Oliver considered this. He drew the zipper across the top of his bag. “Do you know how long it would take me to make that? The more detailed the object, the more time I have to spend on it.”
“Fine, party pooper. It was just an idea.” I turned away, muttering under my breath, “A really good one.”
Oliver shook his head, but he couldn’t quite hide the grin tugging at his mouth. Feeling lighter, I finished tying the laces on my boots. Oliver stepped outside, and after one more glance around, I followed him.
Snow and wind blew into my face, surprisingly vicious. I tugged and adjusted my scarf until only my eyes were exposed. Oliver did the same. We made short work of disassembling our small shelter, no easy feat when one was wearing thick gloves. Less than five minutes later, the two of us put our backpacks on again, now laden with pieces of the tent. In unspoken agreement, we put our heads down and plunged into the storm.
With the wind moaning past our ears, attempting a conversation would be pointless. Unfortunately, there was also nothing much in the way of a view. I was forced to watch my feet and count each step to keep my thoughts from running rampant. Every now and then, I looked up to see how much distance we’d covered. It was always much less than I expected.
This is taking forever, I thought with an irritated frown. I was the one who’d made this world, so why couldn’t I cross it with a snap of my fingers or a simple impulse?
If I’d been secretly hoping for some kind of answer, I didn’t get one. There was just the moaning wind and the miles of raging snow. I scowled and bent my face toward the ground again.
We were five or six hours into the hike, by my guess, the gray sky beginning to go black, when something did appear through the snow—a thin bit of darkness that didn’t move or disappear. My heart quickened and I squinted my eyes. It was a river, I realized with disappointment. Part of me had hoped it was another memory. I followed the river’s length as far as I could see in this whiteout, and it seemed to lead directly into the mountains we were aiming for.
“Fortuna,” Oliver said, his voice hard and urgent.
We’d been in danger enough times now that I’d learned to recognize that tone. My stomach sank as I turned, following Oliver’s grim stare. For an instant, I could only gape at the sight and think, We are so royally fucked.
It was a massive horde. Not quite the size of an army, but close enough.
Minotaurs.
They’d started to surround us, using the storm for cover. With the head of a bull and the body of a man, they looked like something that belonged in Hell. Every one of them held a double-bladed ax in its bare fists, and their corded, muscular torsos were barely protected from the snow by scraps of threadbare-looking clothes, like something from the Stone Age.
Oliver and I reached for our weapons at the same time. Each of us now held a handgun and a knife, but the knife felt woefully inadequate as I eyed the massive size of the beasts coming toward us. Two minotaurs marched several yards ahead of the others, and I suspected it was because they were slightly smaller, and therefore, faster.
“Bet those lightsabers are looking pretty great now, huh?” I said under my breath.
“If we survive this, I’ll make you a green one, and I’ll also get a tattoo that says Fortuna was right on my ass. What do we know about minotaurs?” Oliver added, keeping his eyes on the one closest to him.
I smiled humorlessly. “We know they’re carnivores.”