I waited for him to evade or dodge the question, as he had before, along with every other male in my life. But apparently Oliver was tired of being afraid, too.
“It started when I split from my shadow self,” he told me, keeping his eyes on his hands. “I saw how much I was hurting you, and I hated it. I kept thinking of how I wanted to be rid of the darkness I always felt inside me. Jealousy, anger, fear. I didn’t know that wanting something in a metaphorical sense would make it literal. The disappearance of my paintings? Your bad dreams slipping past me? Those were effects of the separation. They probably would’ve stopped there, but then I left. I wanted to have an identity outside of you.”
Even now, he wouldn’t turn my way. He pulled some blades of grass from the ground beside him. One by one, he released them into the breeze. I watched them go as he continued, “More things started changing. It didn’t take me long to figure out what was really happening—the more I discover my sense of self, the more I become someone beyond what you created me to be, the less I can control the dreamscape. Now this place actually follows the orders of time, and I can’t manifest things with a single thought.”
“Because it’s me,” I said. “The dreamscape is me. And you’re not part of me anymore.”
Saying the truth out loud made something between us shift. The sorrow and pain were still there, but now there was a sense of… awareness. A feeling I’d never experienced before around Oliver. Unnerved, I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and squinted toward the setting sun again. I felt his gaze linger on me for another moment before he turned his head, too.
As we sat there, I allowed my thoughts to wander. All of this had started because I’d met Collith. Everything about my life had intensified, including Oliver. There I’d been, thinking of him less and less, and there he’d been, trying to evolve past the make-believe childhood sweetheart I’d created.
Magic always sought a balance. And it was magic that had caused the disruptions in this seemingly imagined world—I could no longer deny the dreamscape was tied to the Nightmare part of me, in some way.
Whatever that meant for Oliver, though, I had no idea. Telling him anything would only create false hope. For both of us.
I’d just finished the thought when my body began to lighten. Shit.
“Oliver,” I said, lifting my head.
Oliver looked over and realized what was happening. His expression didn’t change. “Already?” he asked.
I tried to answer, but it was too late.
I woke up.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Oh, goody. You’re alive.” Gil’s face hovered over mine, so close that I could make out flecks of amber in his brown eyes.
Once the vampire saw I was awake, he leaned back. Despite the casual way he’d spoken, there was real worry floating between us.
“I seem to be,” I said, struggling to put Oliver from my mind. “Alive and surprisingly… fine.”
It was the truth. I sat up, noting that the mask was gone and I had been returned to our cell. Compared to the dank arena I’d just fought Finn in, this room felt downright cozy. I’d also been cared for while I was unconscious. In place of that horrible leather costume, I wore a fresh set of scrubs. Every injury on my body, including the ones I’d sustained in the arena with Finn, were gone. Even the blood smears had been washed away.
Belanor must’ve ordered Iris to use her magic, which could only be a bad thing—he tended to like me at full strength when he started a new torture.
But Laurie was here now, I remembered in a comet-bright burst of excitement. It was only a matter of time before he found us down here. And Laurie always had a plan.
A plan that I’d bet didn’t include Finn.
“How long was I out?” I grabbed Gil’s arm in my urgency, fingers biting deep into his skin. There was so much to process. Holy shit, I was a Nightmare again. “Where did they take the werewolf? And how do I look to you? I mean, is my face different?”
The vampire went still, probably reacting to my proximity. His fangs were out, and the sight of them answered my next question on whether he’d fed. I let go quickly, but I didn’t look away. Not when Gil’s answers were so important. “They—” he started.
We both tensed at the sound of the footsteps in the hall. The door shot up with a hissing sound, and Gil’s shoulder bumped mine as he shifted closer.
Fende entered first. The instant I saw him, my pulse was off like a frightened hare. He was wearing his helmet again, and I wondered if there was a Scary Faerie Handbook somewhere that suggested they should keep their faces hidden at all times. Better chances of terrifying your victims, the author had probably observed.
Focus, Fortuna. I was letting my fear take control. I took it back as Fende was followed inside by Belanor and two Guardians.
“Well, look what Tinkerbell dragged in,” Gil said, tilting his head toward mine as if we were conspirators.
This was the part where I said something equally clever or biting. But I was having trouble paying attention, because I’d noticed there were handcuffs on the wall across from us. This wasn’t the same cell we were in before, I thought as my breathing went shallow. Why had they moved us? Why did they need handcuffs?
Shit, my face. The mask was gone. Belanor would see me and know that the Games had worked.
I looked back at Belanor, trying to draw my power close. Now that I wasn’t in the heat of the moment, I was slow and fumbling as I got used to the feel of it again. That was when I realized the Guardian next to him was Peeks.
Son of a bitch. I glared at the red-haired faerie in recognition. He was the one who’d stopped me from shredding every mind in that arena. It was his scent that gave him away. Now that I had my abilities back, my senses were better than the average human’s, and I knew I was right.
Peeks had called himself my friend. Why did he help me survive against Belanor that day, only to get in my way when escape was within sight?
“What do you fear, little Nightmare?” the Seelie Prince asked by way of greeting, drawing my gaze back to him. More time must’ve passed than I realized, because Belanor had changed clothes since we last saw each other—this looked like something he’d wear to dinner. A black jacket, pressed slacks, and shining dress shoes.
His question finally registered. It occurred to me, then, that Laurie’s twin hadn’t noticed any changes in me. He really didn’t know he’d been right all along. He couldn’t see that his vile methods worked. Peeks had swung his spear at my head before I could display the full return of my power, and Belanor probably explained Finn’s sudden show of restraint as a result of whatever I’d said in the werewolf’s ear.
As for how my Nightmare abilities weren’t influencing the face he saw, for whatever reason, my true face must’ve been Belanor’s idea of beauty. Thankfully, no other Guardians had come into the room with him, and if Fende had noticed anything different about my appearance, he wasn’t saying anything.
My thoughts moved quickly. I could use this to my advantage—the longer I kept my abilities hidden, the longer it would delay the mysterious spell Belanor was so desperate to complete. All I knew was that it was a spell he’d killed for. A spell he’d sacrifice anything to see its success.