Chapter 9 #2
“You’ve done nothing wrong,” she insisted, resisting saying the empty words that it wasn’t about him, but about her.
She felt like she’d kicked a puppy, so she went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, nuzzling her head against his chest. His arms came around her, offering that affectionate companionship that mitigated her eternal loneliness.
She didn’t know how she could both crave Sebastien and loathe the idea of the future he painted for them, but that was all part of the tangled mess.
“I hate that we’re fighting.”
“Me too,” she breathed against him, holding on to him.
“You should come with me.”
“What—to Castle Vega?”
“Yes.” He squeezed her tighter, as if demonstrating his unwillingness to let her go.
“I don’t want to be apart from you. If you come with me, we can talk to my father together.
You’ll feel better about things after having a conversation with him.
Soren has his flaws, but he sincerely values you. And you’ll love Ali and Dianna.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. I’ll get permission from Madame Hendricks for you.”
He’d be able to, too. She pulled back and looked into his face, those sweet green eyes beseeching her.
Any other woman would be thrilled by the offer, but she had other priorities.
“I can’t leave right now,” she insisted, realizing it was true.
“Master Zoltan is on the cusp of teaching me to physically walk the Dream. I have to be here.”
Sebastien winced. “Terrible timing. You could talk to Monster Zoltan, tell him you’ll be right back.”
“Don’t call him that.”
He rolled his eyes. “The guy is a controlling monster. Why let him do that to you? It would only be a few days.”
“He might change his mind about whether I’m ready if I don’t show commitment.
” Master Zoltan disliked dilettantish behavior in his students.
He’d been hinting at teaching her this final, most challenging skill for weeks now, assigning her progressively more exacting tasks that felt like time-wasting, finicky busywork.
She’d been patiently enduring them, certain he was testing her resolve.
“This is important to me, Sebastien,” she added, pulling away from his embrace, discovering a new source of aggravation with him. “I told you that from the beginning.”
“Second lesson,” he replied ruefully. “No interfering with Rose’s academic studies.”
Rose smiled, feeling sad. Sebastien did care about her, at least as a friend. Perhaps she was the monster. The urge to apologize rose to her lips, but she squelched it.
Sebastien waited a moment longer, then shook his head. “I’ll see you when I return.”
“You really don’t have to go.”
“I want to go. My father would expect it and…” He touched her cheek, almost wistful. “I want this future for us, Rose. You might say I’ve done nothing wrong, but I think if I’d adequately pleased you, we wouldn’t be—”
“I’m not one of your patronesses,” Rose interrupted, stung by the sudden feeling that she’d used Sebastien just as they had. “It’s never been your job to please me so I’ll elevate you at court.”
He gazed at her a long moment, clearly hurt, and she wanted to drag back the impulsive words. “She pricks me with her thorns,” he said softly. “I have no illusions about my place in life. You needn’t remind me.”
Unable to bear what she’d done, Rose turned back to the mirror, glaring at herself, the dark eyes staring back at her full of accusation. “I apologize,” she said, having to firm her wobbly voice. “That was cruel and uncalled-for.”
“But honest,” he offered. “I can always count on my dark queen for that.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling wretched.
“Two apologies in a row,” he said lightly.
“My lucky day. You’re forgiven, Rose. There’s nothing I wouldn’t forgive you.
I’ll be back before you know it.” In the reflection, Nina and Nonna sprang to their feet, following Sebastien out the door without a verbal command.
Only after he left did Rose realize he hadn’t kissed her goodbye.
And, she noticed, the jewelry box with the ring no longer sat on the table, its absence another accusation.
She hated that they’d parted on such angry and uncertain terms, but while she would miss him, Sebastien’s absence would give Rose the opportunity to really think, to dwell on her dilemma as broodily as she wished.
While she recognized and valued the sunshine Sebastien brought her life, uplifting her from her moody tendencies, she didn’t want to give this very important decision short shrift.
Sebastien didn’t appreciate the ramifications of her choice, arguably because he’d never had to worry about ramifications before.
Rose had and did. And she needed time to consider her options—and their consequences—without even the unspoken influence of what he wanted. What she needed to do was work, so work she would.
Settling herself in the oneiromancy studio, Rose deliberately took deep, even breaths, counting out twice the number on exhale as the inhale. The meditation helped to calm and clear her mind while she waited for Master Zoltan to arrive.
In the wake of that new clarity, it occurred to Rose that Madame Hendricks had deliberately turned a blind eye to her relationship with Sebastien.
They hadn’t been that clever about hiding the fact that he slept in her room every night.
It could be that the academy had actively allowed Sebastien to court her, as His Majesty King Soren had wished.
And her father hadn’t objected either, so he must want her in Soren’s court, though he’d never said so.
She truly wished she could talk to her father, but she wasn’t progeny of His Majesty with royal license to ditch school at will.
And this wasn’t a conversation that could be trusted to written correspondence, obviously.
“Ah, excellent,” said Master Zoltan, briskly entering the small studio. “I can always count on you to commence meditation without prompting.”
Rose smiled, pleased by the praise, not confessing she’d been stewing over her love life rather than properly meditating.
“Today, you will learn to physically walk the Dream,” he declared.
She physically started in surprise. Imagine if she’d gone with Sebastien and missed this opportunity! Master Zoltan tsked at her.
“You must learn not to abandon the calm you’ve attained via meditation,” he chided. “Soon you will graduate and be on your own and then where will you be?”
Rose restrained an impudent answer. Zoltan had no sense of humor, except for his own jokes. “I didn’t know if I’d ever be ready to learn this difficult skill.”
“You show much of Oneira’s same promise, so I am hopeful.
” He frowned a little, and Rose knew it must be for the continuing mystery of Oneira’s disappearance.
The late unlamented King Uhtric’s court sorcerer, Stearanos, had been missing since before solstice, too, which seemed like a strange coincidence except that the two hadn’t even known each other.
Instead, they’d famously been lifelong enemies.
The puzzle had led some students to speculate that some greater enemy of the known world was picking off the preeminent sorcerers in some diabolical plot.
But so far only those two had vanished—though some darkly reminded everyone “only those two that we know of.”
To Rose’s mind, it was all useless gossip and, while she found the mystery intriguing in the abstract, it had little to do with her. Mostly she felt bad for Master Zoltan, who’d been gloomier than even his usual amount since the news had arrived at HASP.
Master Zoltan cleared his throat. “It would be remiss of me to not at least attempt to teach you what I taught Oneira.”
Rose didn’t much care for the emphasis on “attempt,” which thoroughly mitigated any pleasure from the implied compliment about her not being just any oneiromancer.
She should be beyond that sort of flattery anyway.
Her father had always taught her that inborn talent was worth nothing without the application of dedicated effort to acquire the skill to use it.
It didn’t matter if she possessed the most potential since the famed Oneira; only that she become as skilled as possible at her sorcery.
She had pride in her ability, but that same pride had been stung.
“I look forward to learning,” she said calmly, betraying none of her unsettled emotions.
“Excellent. Let us commence with a review of the dangers.” Zoltan began pacing the small studio, occasionally pausing to gaze out the wall of windows.
“First and foremost, when you open a portal into the Dream—and you will need a larger one than usual, so that you can step through it—you must not look directly at the Dream, as much as possible.”
Rose knew this. She’d opened large portals into the Dream before, sometimes very large ones, and she’d always found it easy to do, as natural as breathing.
A dragon or other enormous monster couldn’t be easily admitted via a small opening into waking reality.
Slightly impatient, but hiding it, she replied, “Because gazing into the Dream with a conscious mind can lead to madness.”
Zoltan glanced over his shoulder at her, expression wryly damning.
“You are impatient with what you believe is elementary information. Yes, I know you know this, and you’ve worked with large portals before, but I do not reiterate this first rule for no reason.
Indulge me.” He turned and folded his hands behind his back.
“Tell me the steps for reaching into the Dream to bring an object out.”
Curious now, Rose took this request very seriously, thinking back to the initial instructions for what had first been intuitive—and potentially disastrous with the nonexistent control of a child—then relearned as a painstaking and meticulous process, and had become second nature again over time.