Chapter 69 #2
“This was mine when I was young and more of a musician than a fighter.”
My eyes widened as I finally understood. Dion had given me a piece of his past, something connected to a part of himself undeniably precious to him. Cradling the small item to my chest, I stared at him with huge eyes.
“But the little trinket isn’t the real present. No, I’m making you a promise. An oath to tell you about my past, about everything that happened. Although telling might be the wrong word. I’ll show you, if you allow.”
“Show me? How do you plan to do that?”
“During our sleep. I’m sure I’ve mastered slipping into your dreams by now.”
“You have what?”
“Visiting your dreams. Come on, Naya, are you kidding me?”
“How, Dion?”
“When you were—held captive? Before I brought you to Ivreiana?”
“That conversation was real?”
“Yes.”
“What about the vivid nightmares in Ivreia?”
“I wasn’t aware of what it was back then, but yes, we had a few matching visions. So, most likely, we already visited each other’s dreams back then as well.”
Naya’s eyes had sunken deep into her face, and she looked so, so fatigued. Even her anger was no more than a tiny spark inside her mesmerizing irises. “And you didn’t deem the fact that you can dream-haunt me important enough to tell me?”
“Dreamwalk.”
“Dream-haunt sounds more fitting.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Fine, dream-haunt then.”
She sighed deeply, then sank deeper into the pillows—and into my arms. “Thank you, Dion. For this gift. I’d like to see your past. But we’ll argue about you keeping yet another secret from me once I’ve regained the energy to yell at you.”
“That’s fine, my goddess. If you want, you can rest. I’ll stay. And show you the beginning.”
As if this had been the permission she’d been waiting for, her eyes fell shut, and her breath evened out. She was still clutching my tuning fork, which made me smile despite the whole steaming shitpile of a situation we were in.
Gently, my finger lingered on the skin underneath her collarbone, and I pushed some more of my life force into her exhausted form.
Ireas had warned me not to overdo sacrificing winters, but since he wasn’t here and hadn’t examined her for at least two hours, I was better safe than sorry.
Also, transferring energy had the side effect of tiring me out too.
Tugging my tiny female closer to keep her protected, I concentrated on her dreams and on what I wanted to show her.
For a long time in my life, I’d considered my mother the most beautiful female I’d ever seen. I understood now that this was wrong, but she was still holding the second spot and would do so forever.
Seeing her sit in her favorite chair, book in hand, smiling down at an oh-so-young me with wild black hair sticking out in every direction, sliced right through my heart.
“Read to me?”
“Any wishes, my Dionny?”
“Hmm…let me think.”
“Perhaps the Tale of Noelk and the Twins?”
“No, that’s so sad, and the accompanying sheet music is much too complicated.”
I knew which day I was witnessing, recognized every word the faeling I’d been said, how he rambled about a ritardando that wasn’t at the coda where the sequence rightfully belonged.
What a fool I’d been. Today, I was well aware that sometimes, after a climax, events slowed down, only to return with a bang, both in music and life.
“I want to hear the Firebird and the Dragon.”
“Again?”
“It’s my favorite. When I grow up, I want to be like the dragon.”
“Of course you will be, my beloved son. You can be everything you want to be.”
“Grandfather insists that I have to become a soldier.”
“Don’t listen to him. He has no power or say over you.”
I didn’t pay my younger self further attention.
Instead, I observed my mother, how her long, ruby hair framed her face in soft waves, how her crimson eyes sparkled with mirth and affection whenever her gaze lingered on her son, and how her lips curled into the happiest smile as the door opened and my father entered.
“There you are.”
“Father. Mother wants to read me a story. The Firebird and the Dragon.”
“Aren’t you already too old for fantasy tales, son?”
“Nooo.”
Back then, he had been the center of my world too.
He’d been tall, even for a fae, and muscular, with long, almost white hair tumbling over his shoulders, with eyes in the non-color of diamonds.
He’d been the light to my darkness, at least in optics.
Later, I’d found some of his diaries and realized my hero worship had been unfounded—my father had been just as insane as Galrach.
“Your story has to wait, dinner is ready.”
“Oh, but I’m not hungry.”
“I’ll read to you later, promise.”
Nayana’s presence hovered next to me. This was the first time I wasn’t only sharing what happened to me, but also allowing someone inside my memories.
Was she aware of how big this was? How much I trusted her? When I had come up with this idea, I’d wondered if I’d feel too vulnerable with her here, but now—everything was oddly right.
My heart broke anew as the scene unfolded. Dinner was served, and my mother drained her goblet. Just a few seconds later—
“Caoin?”
“My love, I’m not feeling well. Something is wr—”
“I’m getting a healer. Dionadair, protect her.”
Younger me witnessed my mother collapsing to the ground, how my father dropped everything and hurried out of the door. The panic in his wild expression confirmed his innocence. He didn’t poison her, even though he’d been executed for that crime.
Because I didn’t take my eyes off the young fae, who desperately tried to rouse his unconscious mother under tears, I missed the door opening.
At this point, she’d already succumbed to the fast-acting poison, but the faeling didn’t give up on his desperate attempts to wake her. He begged her, pleaded with her.
He knew she was dead, but he didn’t want to accept her departure to Udiona yet. Back then, I’d been helpless in the face of oblivion. I wouldn’t allow myself to be that powerless ever again.
“Mother? Mother. Wake up. You can’t lie on the floor. Please…you promised to read me a story. Please. Mother? Mom?”
“Mom?”
“Please—”
My heart was bleeding. Ghostly tears ran down my cheeks as I witnessed a very young Dion breaking apart as he watched his mother dying.
Her assassination. Murder.
There was no doubt that the cute young fae male was perishing beside her, in a way. I wished I could reach out and comfort him, or at least his older self, but the latter was hiding somewhere from me.
“Scriosta.”
“Where’s Father? Please help Mother, Grandfather.”
“Your sire has been arrested for poisoning my daughter. He killed your mother. Now, go to your room until I call for you.”
Galrach hadn’t changed, not one bit. The cruel glint in his eyes when he’d spoken to Dion enraged me. The future High King’s daughter had just died, the beloved mother of the devastated youngling whom he’d barked at without any empathy, and he—gods, that bastard was emanating delight.
But I couldn’t observe him anymore, as the young fae did as he’d been told and stumbled back into his room.
The memory cut, and Galrach entered young Dion’s bedchambers. And somehow, I wasn’t just watching anymore. I was in Dion’s head, my sense of self evaporating.
“Stop crying, Scriosta. It is only me and you now.”
“But Father—”
“He is a traitor and found guilty—no, do not dare to cry again.”
“But Mother—”
“You are still young. Too emotional. But you are my heir now. This title might not mean anything for the time being, but believe me, soon, true power will come for you.”
Dion opened his mouth, but the older male intercepted him again.
“No, you have to listen and learn. Bury those foolish dreams of yours. No more dallying around. No more music lessons. The library is off-limits to you. You will get all the books that you are allowed to read from me. You have a lot to master that is more important than what you have been taught so far.”
The older male regarded his heir—a faeling on the cusp of pubescence with mussed hair.
His usually bright eyes had dulled from unshed tears.
After all, his mother had died just moments ago, and now his father had been convicted of being a traitor.
And he didn’t understand why his grandfather was so fixated on having an heir.
He wasn’t old or sick or a person of great importance.
And no music? No books? “What—do you want me to do?” His voice sounded timid, and he could see the disapproval in the older male’s gaze.
“Learn to live up to your potential.”
“Stop scaring the young one, brother.”
The faeling lifted his gaze, and he wasn’t able to suppress a shaky smile as he noticed his favorite uncle standing in the doorway. But he quickly averted his gaze to the floor since anger blazed in his grandfather’s eyes.
“The weakling needs to grow up. He can be glad he is not sitting in the same cell as his traitorous sire.”
“I still do not believe Mol planned treason, brother. You should let me speak to him.”
“There is no need for that. My mind is made up. He will be executed at dawn. And you, faeling, you will swing the sword.”
Gasping, I was catapulted out of young Dion’s head and stared into the open eyes of the real prince, who reached out to wipe the tears off my face.
“You witnessed your mother dying.”
“Yes. And he forced me to behead my father. After that, if I showed only an ounce of emotion, he’d wield his powers on me.”
I couldn’t suppress icy shivers running down my spine as I recalled the terrible feeling and awful pain of Galrach’s magic entering my system.
“Nayana, did my grandfather use his foul talents on you?”
Denying the truth made no sense, so I nodded. “Briefly. During the second ball, as he danced with me. Maybe on my food.”
“You’ll have to tell me everything that happened before you fled from Alaiann. And what you remember of your time at the Cuirt. But first, you need to eat, and I’ll order Ireas to examine you. Then we’ll make plans and decide what to do with this fucking clusterfuck of a situation.”
“Do you already have an idea of where we’ll travel next?” Exhaustion powered into me when I only considered sitting on a horse.
“There’s still some minor disagreement in our group about our destination. Antas and Fig don’t trust that the tear will stay dormant, and I don’t give a flying fuck and demand taking you to the Ainmhi for treatment.”
All I did was nod and hug closer to my prince.
Five minutes later, Dion gently disentangled himself before getting up and reluctantly stalking away.