23. REALITY LIKE A DREAM.
Chapter twenty-three
REALITY LIKE A DREAM.
The mix of scents made Daemonikai's investigation a maddening task. Incompetent fools.
If he’d known they’d only muddle the scene, he wouldn’t have sent them to investigate in the first place.
Their footprints and scents cluttered every corner, making it harder than ever to sift out what truly mattered. But this wouldn’t deter him.
Three hours later, he was still at the crime scene, having retraced every step Emeriel had taken.
He combed through the garden, over and over, with a thoroughness bordering on obsession.
Yet, still, he found nothing.
Irritation gnawed at him as he prepared to repeat the search yet again.
This time, he shifted partially into his beast form to heighten his senses, focusing his nose to distinguish Emeriel’s scent from the web of others clinging to the air. But still… nothing.
Very soon, dawn would break. It was time to return.
His instincts had been on edge all night from being away from Emeriel. She was safe, protected under Vladya’s watch.
But while he trusted Vladya with his life, he didn’t trust the voices in Vladya’s head.
That risk alone had kept Daemonikai’s nerves taut all night.
“Wegai,” he called out.
His head soldier appeared instantly, having stayed close all night, wisely keeping his distance as ordered.
“Your Grace,” Wegai acknowledged with a bow.
“Gather the men. We’re heading back.”
They were near the garden’s entrance when Daemonikai froze, his senses latching onto something.
A scent so faint it was almost a ghost in the air. But he would know that scent anywhere.
“No one moves,” he ordered.
The soldiers stilled as he tracked the scent further into the garden.
There, on the concrete, a tiny drop of blood gleamed faintly in the shadows.
Daemonikai crouched, breathing the scent in deeply, letting it fill his lungs.
He hadn’t been mistaken. Sinai’s blood.
If it had been anyone else’s, he might have missed it. From a distance, all blood smelled the same, it required a level of closeness and familiarity to notice subtle differences.
This blood he knew intimately.
As familiar to him as his own, for he had lived on it, survived by it, for two thousand years.
What was Sinai’s blood doing here?
“Wegai, come.”
The soldier stepped up without hesitation.
“Go to the Ladies’ Headquarters and issue an official arrest of Mistress Laelsienai,” he ordered. “Do it now.”
***
“Hm, someone is quite pleased this morning,” Daryl murmured, his voice thick with sleep.
Sinai grinned, turning to face her lover. The first light of dawn peeked through the window, casting a soft glow over the room. Satisfaction thrummed in her veins.
Picking up her nightclothes, Sinai slid them on. “Nothing like good sex to celebrate a victory, Daryl.”
“I’d have to agree.” The high lord leaned in to kiss her. Pulling back, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Although you haven’t told me exactly what victory we are celebrating.”
“Ignorance is bliss, My Lord of Trade,” Sinai drawled, stretching luxuriously before she rose, casting a sly glance over her shoulder. “Let’s just say I finally caught a very elusive, very feisty mouse after a long time of setting traps.”
“Hm. And was this mouse worth all the trouble?”
“Oh, yes,” she purred, recalling Emeriel's pained grunt when the arrow made contact. A smirk curled on her lips. “Very much so.”
Daryl shook his head, half-amused, half-wary. “You scare me when you get like this. Is this mouse the reason for that bruise on your cheek?”
Sinai’s hand went to her cheek, wincing slightly at the faint sting. “My little mouse was—”
A sudden, loud knock startled them. The door burst open, and Nora rushed in, her face pale with alarm.
“Frostfall’s royal guards are on their way!” Nora cried out with panic. “They’re coming here, mistress! They—”
Sinai’s heart skipped, but before she could process Nora’s words, the soldiers stormed into her chamber.
Seven of them. Each clad in official attire, their stern expressions leaving no doubt about the seriousness of their mission.
The lead guard stepped forward, unrolling a scroll with ceremonial gravity.
“By order of the Grand King and in accordance with the laws of Urai,” he announced with authority, “I hereby declare you, Lady Laelsienai Gurtazivrk, under arrest for the crime of attempted murder and assassination of an esteemed guest of our land, Princess Emeriel Galilea Evenstone. You are commanded to surrender immediately and without resistance. Any failure to comply will be met with force.”
All color drained from Sinai’s face. What…?
“I have no idea what you’re t-talking about!” she sputtered.
Despite her attempt to sound indignant, her voice trembled. “How dare you barge into my residence and make such ridiculous accusations—”
“I suggest you come quietly, mistress,” the guard warned, his tone hard. “Or we will apply force.”
"This is a mistake!" She cast a hysterical glance over her shoulder. "Daryl, tell them they have the wrong person. Tell them I've been here with you all night."
The high lord scrambled from the bed, hurriedly reaching for his clothes, his eyes wide with alarm. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Inside, Sinai’s panic mounted, though she tried desperately not to let it show.
How had they found out? She’d taken every precaution, left no trace, planned every detail to perfection.
“I did nothing wrong,” she spat. “I will not tolerate being wrongly accused by the likes of you!”
Two soldiers stepped forward, seizing her arms, dragging her towards the door. She struggled against their grip, but she was no match for their strength.
"I'm innocent!" she cried, but her protests fell on deaf ears.
As she was hauled through the hall, much to her horror, the other mistresses in her wing emerged from their chambers. Their eyes wide with curiosity and wicked delight as they witnessed her being dragged away like a common criminal.
Sinai had never felt such humiliation.
"Let me go!" she shouted, thrashing against their hold. "I will walk on my own!"
But her pleas were ignored.
Dread quickly overpowered her shame.
Fear of Daemonikai's anger, of his wrath. One she had faced once before, and vowed, never to provoke again.
The fear settled deeper within her, clawing at her chest.
This wasn't supposed to happen . This was meant to be my victory.
How had everything gone so wrong?
***
Emeriel drifted in and out of consciousness.
Each time she surfaced, someone was pressing a bitter herb to her lips, cooling her forehead with damp cloths, or coaxing her to eat. It was exhausting, intrusive.
Why couldn’t they just leave her to her dreams?
Beautiful, sweet dreams of her and her Beloved.
Here in this world of warmth and light, there was no pain, no misery.
Here their bond was alive and flourishing.
Here she could feel his presence even when he was far from the fortress.
Here she felt everything in his heart, not just his pain but also his happiness. His love.
In this world, her belly was full and rounded, carrying their child. A child who brought even more sunshine into their already radiant world.
Her Beloved glowed with joy, untouched by the sorrow of grief and loss.
Emeriel did not want to wake from this idyllic dream.
If crossing over to the other side brought dreams like these, perhaps she should have crossed long ago.
It was beautiful. It was—
“Wake up, Princess. Open your mouth,” Madam Livia’s voice drifted into her dreams.
Not this again.
“Go away…” she tried to shout, but the words came out a garbled mumble.
“She’s overdue for her medication,” the head maid's voice chimed in, “but lately, she locks her jaw tight, refusing any disturbance.”
Blessed silence returned.
Emeriel relaxed, grateful. Thank heavens—
“Wake up, dearling.” A strong, gentle hand caressed her cheek.
Her heart stirred at the familiar voice. What was he doing outside her dreams?
Here, in this fuzzy half-world, he sounded closer… more real.
Perhaps she’d open her eyes for just a moment.
Bright light assaulted her vision.
Nope. Emeriel quickly squeezed her eyes shut.
“Draw the curtains closed, Livia,” her Beloved ordered.
“But she needs cool air—”
“Do it,” he insisted.
The sound of rustling curtains followed. The room dimmed. Then the wonderful silence.
Cautiously, she opened her eyes again, one at a time.
Her vision was blurry, but as she blinked, her male's face slowly came into focus.
“Hello, Princess,” he groaned, his fingers caressing her cheekbones.
Her head felt light and foggy, but this… this was a pleasant dream, too. Emeriel let out a soft, contented sound, nuzzling into his touch.
“That’s my good girl.” His hand moved to stroke her hair. “Now, you need to drink.”
A cup pressed against her lips, and a bitter liquid touched her tongue. She gagged, turning her head away.
“Bitter,” she mumbled. “Don’t want it.”
“I know, but you must.” He leaned closer, his face filling her vision, blocking out the rest of the world.
Emeriel found she didn't mind that at all.
“You’re so handsome,” she slurred. “But… there’s a little error here…” Lifting a hand, she flattened the lines of worry on his forehead, smoothening the frown between his brows. “There, much better. Don’t frown so hard.”
His gaze was filled with a tenderness that made her feel like the center of his universe.
Oh, she liked that. A lot.
“Keep looking at me… like that,” she murmured drowsily, lost in those eyes. “Sometimes, it’s like you see right into my very soul.” She paused, her eyelids fluttering. “It’s unnerving, but… I like it. Don’t ever stop.”
“You’re drugged out of your senses,” he said in that deep, sexy voice that made her tingle inside.
“No, I’m quite clearheaded,” she informed him with utmost seriousness.
Blinking hard, she frowned, her brow wrinkling as her eyes tried to focus. “Though you do seem to have… three eyes and two noses.”
He let out a deep chuckle. "Clearheaded, are we?"
“Absolutely.” Emeriel’s hand slipped to his neck, greedily tracing wherever her fingers could reach. “I wish you’d do that more often. Laugh. I want to hear it… to see it.”
“You make me want to,” he admitted, his tone raspy. “I never thought I would again, but you…” He picked up the dreaded medicine cup once more. "You do need to drink this."
“Do not.”
“Do, too.” It pressed against her mouth again. “Drink, Riel.”
Riel. The pet name made her insides twist pleasantly.
“Riel…” she savored the way it sounded. “I like it.”
“You do?”
Emeriel nodded enthusiastically. “Very much. Call me… Riel, Your Grace.”
“I will, dearling,” he promised softly. “Now, drink.”
Reluctantly, she opened her mouth and gulped down the bitter medicine, grimacing.
A smile touched his lips. “Good girl.”
Emeriel preened under his praise. “I had the most beautiful dreams…” she confided, groggily.
"Oh?" There was curiosity to his tone.
“Mmm.” She reached for him, clinging weakly. “Lie beside me, and I’ll tell you all about them.”
He sighed. “I’m needed in court, Riel.”
“Please… Beloved,” she whined, persuasive.
Another sigh, one of surrender. “Leave us, Livia.”
Emeriel barely heard the soft footsteps, the door opening and closing.
He lay beside her, and Emeriel rested her head on his solid chest, sighing in contentment.
His arms were her favorite place. The safest place in the entire universe.
“I dreamed of us.” She fought the pull of sleep. “Of our life together… You were so happy.”
“Was I?” His voice was soft.
“Oh yes.” She glanced up at him, her eyes heavy. “I was heavy… with your child.”
In that instant, Emeriel was grateful she could see his face. Could see the raw hunger sparking in his eyes.
The longing…
Sick or not, it was a sight that would forever be imprinted on her heart.
Her powerful mate looked… as though he might cry.
“It’s not something that will happen for me… for us anytime soon,” he said hoarsely, his eyes finally breaking away from hers. “Not for centuries to come.”
She ran a soothing hand over his chest, grounding herself in the steady rise and fall of his breathing, trying to keep her drug-addled mind focused.
“My late bondmate and I were together for four millennia and only two sons to show for it. Our youngest was eight hundred years ago… we tried for a third for centuries .” His voice faltered, and he drew a shaky breath. “I would give anything to have another child…”
Oh, my Beloved. Emeriel’s heart ached for him.
An old pain surfaced; she had no idea where it came from, but it was right there in her chest.
“Do you know what it means to try for a child for three hundred years , young one?” His deep voice rumbled through his chest.
Closing her eyes, she soaked in the soothing vibrations.
“It means each day feels endless. Every heat cycle that passes without conception is agony for both of you."
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t be.” His hand stroked her arm. “It’s a beautiful dream. I would give anything to have shared it with you, even if only in a dream.”
Her eyelids grew heavier, his sweet embrace lulling her into that drifting peace.
A memory stirred at the edge of her consciousness.
Something painful yet precious, but she didn’t hold onto it. Here, pain had no place.
“It’s a lovely dream,” she conceded. "Stay with me, my Beloved. Just a little while longer."
"I'm right here." He held her possessively as his beast once had, but with the male, there was a gentle protectiveness in his touch that stirred her very soul.
She liked that. She liked it a lot.
"I'm terrified of my heats… now even more than before," she whispered with one final effort. “But I wish… I wish to grow round with your fruit inside me. With everything in me, I wish I could give you a child.”
She was nearly lost to sleep when she heard his whisper.
“If you can, I will be the happiest male in the universe,” the softest vow in a hungry tone. “If you can, Riel, I will lay the entire world at your feet.”