Chapter 16
The details of the dream world gradually came into focus, as if someone had lit a candle in a darkened room, illuminating what had once been obscured to reveal that I was back in the same dreamscape I’d been visiting nearly every night.
I idly wondered why I kept having the same continuous dream—perhaps the result of the sleeping curse whose origins, like everything else, remained a mystery.
But the question faded almost as soon as it formed, swept away by wonder.
For a moment, I was too awed to speak, my gaze drinking in each luminous detail.
The world seemed to have expanded since my last visit.
The fog that had once shrouded the horizon had lifted, revealing forests and rolling hills that stretched impossibly far without fading into haze.
Each ridge held its shape and each tree stood distinct, as though I might walk for hours and never reach their end.
The colors stole my breath. The greens were deeper than I remembered, layered in shades that shifted with the light—emerald, moss, and gold where the sun brushed the leaves.
A breeze stirred, cool against my skin, lifting a strand of my hair before letting it fall softly against my cheek.
I drew in a slow breath, fuller than any I could remember.
The air carried the scent of earth and wildflowers, rich and vivid in a way I’d never noticed while awake.
Almost too vivid. The thought came unbidden.
Dreams blurred at the edges, slipping from one’s grasp no matter how tightly you tried to hold them.
But this held, as though the world existed beyond my imagination.
I had the unsettling sense that if I reached down and pressed my hand into the soil, it wouldn’t dissolve beneath my touch—but yield, cool and real, against my palm.
I swallowed, pushing the thought aside before it could take root.
Amid my awe was something quieter—relief, as if part of me had feared I would be trapped forever inside the world I had just left behind, caught in the ever-shifting castle with its secrets.
Now standing here, I felt as though I had come home after a very long and weary absence, a contentment so unfamiliar as a nomad thief that I scarcely recognized it.
The feeling deepened when I spotted Evander standing near a clump of roses, his arms folded, tension drawn tight through his posture.
I moved towards him…and the world tilted.
A wave of dizziness struck without warning, stealing the ground from beneath my feet.
My steps faltered, the vivid landscape blurring into streaks of color.
He was at my side before I could fall. One strong hand closed firmly around my arm, anchoring me in place, while his other arm wrapped steadily around me as he guided me to a nearby bench.
His touch was careful but certain, as though he knew exactly how much pressure to use to keep me grounded without causing harm.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured.
The reassurance seemed to penetrate the spinning haze.
Even after I sat, he maintained his secure hold.
It took awhile for my dizziness to subside, but gradually the blur of color settled back into the detailed backdrop.
He remained at my side, as though his presence alone tethered me to something real.
“It appears I fell asleep again,” I finally managed. A dull ache pulsed at my temples, and wisps of drowsiness clung to my mind like the last strands of morning mist before the sun’s warmth washed them away. I pressed my fingers to my head, willing the world to still. “Why am I so disoriented?”
“It’s the effects of going back and forth,” Evander explained. His grip tightened slightly, almost imperceptibly. “It appears to grow worse each time,” he added, quieter now. “You’re not meant to do it this often.”
The restraint in his tone sent a flicker of unease through me. “Do you know about the sleeping curse afflicting me?” I asked.
“Unfortunately, not in any detail beyond how it allows you to transcend both these worlds.”
Both worlds. The phrase lingered, catching against my thoughts. But wasn’t this one merely a reflection of the waking world?
I wanted to question him further, but my vision had only just steadied enough for me to truly see him.
Something in his expression had changed.
The easy composure I’d come to expect from this version of Evander had hardened into something more guarded.
For a fleeting, disorienting moment, I wondered if the Evander from the mural room—whose warm touch was still a pleasant memory against my wrist—had somehow followed me here, if the two worlds had blurred just enough for him to step through.
But dreams couldn’t be entered like doorways, nor did they leave traces. The thought lingered longer than it should have, accompanied by a strange unease, one I couldn’t quite name.
“Are you upset?” I asked, unable to keep the anxiety from my voice.
His jaw tightened but he did not look at me immediately. “Not enough to prevent me from waiting until you can stand without swaying before I scold you.”
His tone was stiff but not unkind, assuring me that he was likely only annoyed rather than truly angry.
Still, the reprimand settled uneasily over me.
Over the years, I had been the cause of irritation for many—fellow thieves, merchants, guards—but this was the first time disapproval had truly bothered me.
I stubbornly lifted my chin. “I’m not a delicate maiden. You can scold me in whatever state I’m in.” The words came out sharper than intended—for once not from pride, but the unwelcome need to set things right.
To my relief, the corner of his mouth shifted, the faintest shadow of a smile that softened the severity of his expression, a victory that assured me that whatever my crime he wasn’t too upset with me.
“You appear entirely unmoved by the fact that my concern for you exceeds even my frustration at your blatant disregard for my advice,” he said.
“Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised; you have a habit of treating well-meaning warnings as challenges. ”
“I knew the moment I saw you together that you had placed yourself far too close to danger, despite my warning.” His voice was quiet, but edged with accusation at my having teamed up with the enemy.
“I did what I had to in order to gather the information I needed,” I replied, though my voice lacked some of its earlier certainty. “That may have required…certain tactics. But working together is not the same as trusting.”
It was almost word for word what Evander had told me in the mural chamber. A flicker of recognition passed across his expression, as if he remembered the words spoken by his counterpart.
His frown deepened. “So you’re aware of the darkness that no amount of charm or royal decorum can disguise.”
“I considered your warning and simply chose for myself whether he was worthy of my trust,” I said.
He sighed. “A weak justification for your recklessness.” This time, I detected something else threaded beneath the edge of his words—not just frustration, but hurt.
I’d experienced more than my share of rejection and cruelty through my life, and had found that an emotional response was unproductive…
yet this time, an unexpected twinge of remorse prickled against my will.
I wrung my hands in my lap and lowered my gaze.
I had not meant to defy him. I had been alone for so long, and survived for even longer without relying on anyone, that the idea of placing my trust in another person had not even occurred to me.
“It’s only prudent for a thief to verify things for themselves.
” Though the defense sounded weak and hollow, even to my own ears.
He swiveled on the bench to fully face me. “Even at the cost of caution?” he countered. “Such pride is something we have in common. A stubborn insistence on independence, even when it works against you. Are you afraid of something, or is there something you’re trying to prove?”
The question struck deeper than I expected. For a moment, I could not answer. It felt as though he had reached past every carefully constructed wall and laid bare the truth beneath it.
“I—” I faltered, then forced myself to look away. “Why can the other Evander not be trusted?”
My attempt at deflection was obvious, but he was kind enough to let it pass rather than continue perusing the secrets I was determined to keep hidden.
Evander’s gaze shifted, his expression tightening as he looked away. “Because he is the embodiment of my worst self,” he said at last. “Every prideful instinct, every selfish inclination. You would do well to avoid him.”
His words settled over me, neatly fitting with the pieces I had been gathering since the beginning.
“So you are the same person.” Just as I had suspected.
Even if I couldn’t yet understand how such a thing could be possible, the realization brought with it an unexpected sense of relief—an explanation for the strange pull I felt towards both versions of him.
He hesitated, then gave a single, reluctant nod. “Which is precisely why I know I’m unworthy of your regard. I will do whatever is necessary to achieve my ends. You deserve better than to become entangled by my greed.”
Every instinct I had honed over years of survival told me he was right, but I’d become too deeply involved to turn away now.
“Who am I to condemn someone for their weaknesses, when I am no stranger to my own? Is a flawed person any less worthy of friendship?” Or love? I did not say the last aloud, but I felt it linger all the same. I’d already spoken more truth than I had intended to reveal.
Evander opened his mouth, as if to argue. Something unreadable passed across his expression before he sighed. “You continue to surprise me,” he said. “I didn’t expect a thief to place faith in anyone, least of all someone who has given you every reason not to.”