Chapter 61
Sixty-One
Lapis Lazuli
I lie in bed with Graylen, my body spent, my eyelids drifting lazily open and closed. With my heart stitched back together, I finally feel like I’ve found some semblance of peace. The connection to my magic feels loose, but I’m not as scared with Graylen by my side.
It’s been months since I’ve tried to dreamwalk—months since Avery and her mother, Annora, took me into the forest and showed me how. But it isn’t something I could forget—it’s more like a muscle that’s gotten weaker, but it is still there. Hopefully.
Finally, I let my eyes shut and focus on my breathing like Annora taught me. There are no Nocturna fae here to help me slip into my dream realm. I try to force my mind to quiet.
Worries of the future swirl around in my head, rising to the surface each time I try to relax. I bat them away, swatting them like buzzing flies.
I let out a long sigh and roll over to my left side.
We fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms, but it wasn’t long before I scooted the overly warm Aegis off of me and kicked the blankets partly off to cool down. Graylen faces me now, his features smooth and mouth loose, sleeping peacefully.
Him being here grounds me—keeps me steady. He told me not to let him fall asleep so he could watch over me, but the moment he drifted off, I didn’t have the heart to wake him.
A small grin tugs at my lips as I flip onto my back again.
Nervous energy pulls at my legs, urging me to move—to get up and do something other than lie here.
I try to close my eyes and picture something happy, but the moment I hold the thought in my mind, it dissolves.
I’m too distracted.
Frustrated, I fling the covers fully off of me—earning a grumble from Graylen as he snuggles deeper into the bed.
Soren’s head pokes up over the end of the bed as he sits up from his spot on the floor. He watches me with his all-too-knowing eyes as I slip off the mattress, tossing a small blanket around me. His gaze tracks me as I wander over to the window, and it doesn’t take long for him to join me.
Frigid air seeps in through the panes, and I pull the blanket around my shoulders tighter.
I sit down on the small chaise beneath the window, patting the spot beside me for Soren to join. He eyes it for a second, seeming to weigh if he’ll fit. Instead of hopping up, he nudges my bent legs, pushing until I’ve straightened them out.
The moment I’m settled with my legs sprawled out, he jumps up.
A soft oomph whooshes from me as he plops himself right on top of my legs, resting his head just above my knee.
Soren’s crystal-clear blue eyes watch me closely, the heat from his fur warming me instantly.
I can almost feel him in the way I feel Zephyr, our connections similar in the way her emotions seem to intertwine with mine on occasion. Right now, Soren feels at ease, but there’s an underlying current of worry hiding there, too.
“Will I still feel you if I don’t find the dagger in time?” I whisper to him, careful not to wake Graylen.
Soren lets out a soft whine, his eyes turning to the window—to the destroyed market beyond.
I used to look out of this window when I was here as Amira.
I would sit here beneath the moon and stars, watching the tradesmen pack up their stalls for the evening.
But tonight, there isn’t a seller in sight.
Just empty, rundown carts and the occasional skittering of a cat hunting in the quiet square.
Rushing into finding the dagger isn’t going to help with what happened here.
Sloppiness will only cause me to make a mistake—a mistake that could cost me my life or the lives of those around me.
Nightfall won’t magically land in our lap, and the people of Penyth and Crea will suffer because I was too caught up in my own head to try.
This has to work. Not just for me, but for the Linnicks and Opals of Crea.
I lean my forehead against the cool glass of the window and try to focus on the icy surface pressed against my skin as opposed to the racing thoughts in my mind. With a hand resting on Soren’s head and the other across my abdomen, I close my eyes.
Soren presses his muzzle into my knee just as a feeling of safety and comfort washes over me. A soft rumble comes from his chest—a soothing sound that eases the quick tempo of my pulse.
With the reminder of what’s at stake and Soren’s comforting presence, I begin to feel the familiar sensation of drifting into the in-between—falling somewhere that isn’t quite asleep, but isn’t awake either.
Before I know it, I slip into the cracks of oblivion.
A hazy blanket drapes over my vision, dusting the dark room in a soft blur. The familiar weight of dreamwalking tugs at my limbs, weighing them slightly.
I look down, watching my own body rest peacefully beneath the window.
A smile pulls at my mouth. It worked. It’s been a while since I’ve done this—and even when I did, I was back in Penyth with Avery.
I blink a few times, concentrating on staying connected to my dream realm like Annora and Avery taught me, and the blur of my vision begins to clear enough to see fully.
My gaze finds Soren, who’s staring directly at me. At dream me. As if he can see me in this state, though he’s clearly still within the waking realm.
“Can you see me, Soren?” I ask hesitantly.
His tail wags, and he chomps at the air. He settles against my physical body, resting his head on my knee as if to say, I’ve got you while you’re gone.
I don’t know how this creature found its way to me, but it feels like fate.
“Watch out for Graylen, too,” I whisper—though there’s no one here to even hear me.
Soren’s eyes flicker to where Graylen is still asleep, and warmth spreads throughout my chest. It’s as if he’s letting me know he’ll keep us safe, and it’s enough to give me the confidence to glide out of the bedchamber.
I float through the door like a ghost, drifting down the dimly lit hallway and past the guards at our doors. One of the soldiers has his eyes closed and his head tipped back against the wall, while the other mindlessly cleans his sword.
We probably could’ve snuck out of here with how little attention they’re paying to our rooms. Still…it’s better to be safe, especially when we don’t know what Moros’s plan is.
I drift through the castle corridors, moving like a wraith haunting each floor until I reach the library.
No soldiers guard the entrance—in fact, I didn’t pass any on the way here. But instead of it feeling comforting, it feels…strange. Wrong. Like there’s a perpetual chill clinging to the walls, and a darkness seeping up from the floors.
I shake my head, stepping into the library.
Anticipation thrums through my body when I see the hidden doorway already there, easily accessible in my dream realm.
Something pricks at the back of my mind: that it was too easy to find—too unguarded for the supposed location of a weapon that could change the course of the brewing war—but I push it aside.
A quick look inside will tell me if it’s here or not.
The easy part is finding it—the hard part is getting here in the waking realm and retrieving the blade.
A head of long, delicately curled blonde hair flashes in the corner of my eye, halting my progress toward the room.
A woman sits in the library, face in her hands and shoulders trembling as sobs rack her body. I bite the inside of my cheek, worry filling me. I can’t see her entirely, but it feels so achingly familiar.
Everything about her brings a painful reminder of memories we once shared. Sparring together in secret when we were children, toes splashing the creek-bed of camp, and endless chores that would’ve been far more miserable had she not been there.
Could it be?
She sniffles and wipes at her tears, giving me a clear view of her crystal blue eyes—confirming that she’s who I think she is.
My heart nearly stops in my chest as she looks in my direction.
“Opal,” I gasp, starting toward her.
But she doesn’t look at me—doesn’t react.
I’m still in my dream realm.
She runs her hand under her nose and stands, straightening her finely made jade-colored skirts.
I have to talk to her, but I hesitate, my gaze snagging on the doorway to the hidden room.
First, I’ll find Nightfall, then I’ll talk to Opal.
I take a step toward the secret door, pushing my feet there instead of toward one of my oldest friends.
A scream tears through the room.
Alarm bells ring in my mind as I whirl toward the noise—toward Opal. She falls to her knees, clawing at her neck until red marks line it. Her screams fill the library, but no one comes.
I don’t know what’s happening, but I don’t have time to speculate.
Without a second glance, I close my eyes and will myself to wake up.