by Jessa Lucas
“After eons of being punished and misunderstood, humans revolted. The war was bloody. The godspawn could have won had they truly wanted to. It was not the strength of men which surprised them, but the resilience. They relented and set their sights on other worlds, not wanting the effort of ruling over such a rebellious race. This was, of course, after the mass slaughter and destruction of mankind made the point of their might.”
I shook my head. Bloodshed everywhere, in every land, in every dream. “That sounds awful.”
“From all that I have learned, it was. This is why the peace that came with your father’s rule was so unprecedented. I am sorry, though, that your only memories of a father are so considerably deceptive. I wish your true life could be restored to you.”
“Why do you think I can’t remember anything?” I asked, scrunching up my nose.
Sy shook his head. “Perhaps so you might have nothing to fight for.”
“Bitch,” I muttered under my breath. He raised his eyebrows, tossing a glance my way. “That damned queen,” I clarified. “She was a real piece of work.”
“At least she was beautiful.”
I slid my eyes to him. The pipe hung from his mouth, the corners of his lips curved upward, but he didn’t look at me.
“Tell me the truth,” I said, “was she really that beautiful, in your very masculine opinion?”
“Oh yes,” Sy said, “but she was always sneering, so it was hard to see it sometimes. You are far more beautiful.”
I looked back over at him, expecting a punch line. The man didn’t play his cards that easily.
He cut his eyes to me. “You’re far younger.”
I smacked him. “That— is— such— a typical man thing to say!” I said, punctuating each word with a playful punch.
“Whoa, whoa, you are meant to be a dainty princess, not a wild savage!”
“And you’re meant to be a chivalrous man, but in the absence of good manners you will be my punching bag! So shut— up—!” I said, giving him two more good whacks.
Sy offered me the pipe, and I shook my head as my mouth stretched wide in an unexpected yawn. I stood, taking on the false tone of a mock royal. “Well, Syrus of Altrontez, I do believe your tales of war and might have had just the effect I hoped those books might. You’ve bored me so with your speech that I do think I shall return to my bed.”
I began to make my way back to the passageway when he interrupted my movement. “If you would like to make your way back without the darkness and cobwebs, you can go down those steps to the right. It leads through my room.”
I narrowed my eyes. “How did you know the way I came was full of cobwebs and darkness, unless you’ve been sneaking down secret passages yourself?”
Sy raised his eyebrows and jerked his head at me. “Cobwebs are in your hair, Saylor, and I supposed it was only logical to follow that a place with so many cobwebs would also be void of light.”
I went back to him and gave him a glare, snatching the candle from the ledge and marching off back into my dark tunnel. Well fine then, answer me with perfectly sound logic.
I turned on my heel at the entrance, a question hooking into me suddenly. “Sy, why do you call me Saylor instead of Saylora like the others?”
He shrugged, his answer so casual that I couldn’t read into it even if I’d wanted to. “It is what I have always called you.”
Fair enough. “Night, Sy.”
“I wish you a dreamless sleep, Saylor.”
I nodded as he looked away, eyes fastened on the dark among all those stars, and I turned to leave the stargazer with his thoughts, hopeful I would find the dreamless sleep he wished upon me.
When I made it back to my room, I pushed a big armchair in front of the bookcase.
Just in case.
Chapter 8
The Dream and the Dreamer
The light of the courtyard was warm and gentle as I looked around at the bright colorful shapes the stained glass cast onto the cobblestone.
“Jude?” I asked.
His back was turned to me, a paintbrush in his hand hovering over the canvas in front of him. I reached out to touch his shoulder. When he turned, I took a deep breath, for some reason worried it wouldn’t be him.
“Hi,” he grinned.
The breeze was perfect as it funneled through the archways, the illusion of freedom such a tempting hope when the whole world was just mere steps away. Everything was eerily peaceful, and I felt my mind subdued like in the moments before falling asleep.
“I thought we couldn’t be out here.”
“In dreams we can do whatever we please.”
It hit me then... the reason why everything felt a bit hazy, like it lost some clarity when I looked away. “You said you wouldn’t put me in a dream,” I said vaguely.
“I said I would not put you back into the Grimms’ dream, which to be fair sounded quite more like a nightmare.”
“So what is this then?”
“Call it... a demonstration?” Jude shrugged.
I folded my arms into one another. “You’re showing off.”
He grinned again. “Occasionally I give these dreams to the others. It is good, to remember what it’s like to be outside, dirt at our feet, sky unreachable above. To hope for freedom, if only in our dreams.”
“You drugged me!” I frowned, remembering him offering me a drink at dinner. It was no light accusation. “I’m going to need a cupbearer now to taste everything the Middle-Dreamer serves me!”
“No harm meant,” Jude said, unfazed. “Sometimes dreams are more effective when unexpected. But allow me to reassure you, Saylora, that from any dream I gift you, you are more than welcome to wake. I never mean to trap you.”
Still not appeased, I narrowed my eyes. “Was this forbidden in your oaths? Dream-drugging people?”
“Technically, but the best always break the rules.”
“That’s the second time you’ve admitted to being a dream criminal. Not so great for your reputation as a good boy, Jude.”
“I never said I was a good boy.” Even with the suggestive words, his gaze softened. He seemed so unconcerned by my anger. So sure that whatever this dream was, it would reassure me of his intentions. “You can leave at any time, you need only to open your eyes. And if this courtyard does not please you, I can take you anywhere...”
The landscape around me shifted, and I looked around to see that we were on a hill, an abundance of wildflowers sprinkled throughout the grass. The smell of spring was everywhere. I couldn’t help the hum that whispered through my mouth as I glimpsed the line of mountains, their tiered peaks jutting up into the sky like a painting.
“How did you know I loved the mountains?” I asked. It was one thing to see them from a window in a tower, another thing entirely to stand beneath them in reverence.
“You told me of it once.”
I considered Jude. That smile was so ineffable, so free from ill-will. With an exhale, I unfolded my arms and moved around him.
“Hard at work?” I asked as I inspected the canvas on his easel.
I must’ve gasped or something, because Jude placed a hand on my arm and said, “I am a far superior painter in my dreams. Do not give me too much credit.”
“You don’t plan on painting my official portrait to hang in the halls of the palace?” I joked.
“They would hang me, thinking I was a traitor for painting an ogre in place of a princess.”
“You can’t be that bad,” I rolled my eyes. “What’s this?” I pointed at the series of vertical strokes, thick and thin, that rose from the lateral length of the canvas. It looked like an abstract skyline of sorts, a blazing sunset pouring sparkling light onto a sea of buildings far more visionary than any I could’ve imagined.
“It’s Dramon Dagma, or the starts of it, I suppose.” Jude tilted his head, considering his most recent stroke.
“It’s... pretty for a place that seems so sketchy.”
“But aren’t some of
the most beautiful things the most dangerous?” Jude looked over his shoulder at me, a smile in his eyes. “Beauty is not a virtue. Something the queen might have done well to remember.”
I snorted. “You think you’d hang for your paintings, but you sound far more traitorous with comments like that, watchman.”
The corners of his mouth lifted and he dropped the brush, the paint speckling the blades of grass at our feet. Jude pulled me into him and with the thrill of his touch, I had to remind myself it was only a dream.
“Do you ever make dreams for yourself, of people you miss?” I asked.
So I was probably the least subtle person on the planet. Not that this was news.
Jude caught my drift. “I am quite lonely sometimes, but I don’t like to fill my head with things that could never be.”
I chuckled. He seemed to like filling my head with a lot of himself.
He leaned in and began nipping at my ear. It tickled in all the right ways as he began to work his lips against my neck, and I fought to keep myself still. I wanted to enjoy the feeling of his tongue on my skin, even if it sent shivers down my spine.
“God…” I whispered, trying to pace my wants. Calm down, breath. Calm down, body.
“Would it not feel better if it were real?” Jude murmured against my cheek as he planted a kiss there.
Oh yes, it would. It so would.
“Shut up, Jude. Or are you just my subconscious arguing with me? This is confusing.” I took a step out of his arms.
“The subconscious moves towards what it knows is true,” he smiled mischievously and something deep in my belly sung with desire.
“So what’s my truth here?”
“Come find me and you’ll see,” he said. “The corridor that leads to the terrace on the seventh level. Now open your eyes, Saylora.”
My eyes opened and I shot up. Had that been real? The flames raging in my body and between my legs sure wanted to think so.
I breathed out heavily, trying to expel some of the heat in me while I considered what to do. It didn’t take long to figure it out. After all, I needed answers... everything else would just be an added benefit.
I dressed quickly— I would be stealing no man’s cloak this night!— and carefully wedged the dinner knife into my boot. As I flung my door wide, I abruptly remembered that I was under patrol. The door clicked back shut quietly, just in time to evade Jabari’s watchful gaze as his stride turned back towards my room.
Well, fuck.
I stared at the bookshelf long and hard, like it was a sworn enemy I was about to face, before finally sighing and hefting the armchair out of the way. Through Sy’s room it would be.
I made my way through the long cobwebby hall once more, candlestick in hand, hoping Jude wouldn’t mind a few grey non-hairs in my hair if he was, in fact, waiting for me. I fell into the open night, rounded the corner Sy had indicated to me and danced down the handful of steps I found there.
His room was half a floor down from mine, and the balcony doors were open to the night air, curtains swaying on the light breeze.
What luck.
I cowered in the shadows for a moment, waiting for the wind to brush back the drapery and the moonlight to illuminate the room, just in case he was still awake. No candlelight, no sounds of stirring...
All forces go.
Tiptoeing inside, I saw that this bedroom was a fraction of the size of mine, modest and clean. Something glinted on the wall next to the bed, the handle of a sheathed sword where it stood mounted, inches away from Sy’s sleeping form.
I studied his face a moment in the flickering light of my candle. He had faint scars on his chin and cheeks, underneath all the stubble. He really was very handsome in a roguish second-glance sort of way, and as his breath caught on a deep intake of air, I realized how peaceful he looked in sleep. How much smoother his skin was when his face wasn’t hiding behind winkles of thought and concern.
I wondered how many nightmares Sy— or any of these men, really— had had to suffer on my account. As I considered his face, I hoped that, whether by illegal oath-breaking dreams or merely natural cause, Sy’s rest was easy tonight.
I snuck out into the hallway, careful to shut the door to his room quietly behind me.
Just as I was beginning to worry the dream had come of my own volition, I turned the corner and almost ran headlong into Jude. He was standing in a beam of moonlight falling through one in a series of windows along this corridor, and he covered my mouth just as I nearly cried out in fright.
“Shhhhh, shh!” he said, trying not to laugh at what I could only assume was a very amusing expression on my face.
Even after Jude lowered his hand, I didn’t move. I could feel his heartbeat throbbing underneath his leathers, and the impulse skipped through my mind to ask if he ever took them off. My imagination had a brief flirtation with the idea of him taking them all off, and then I had to backtrack to catch my breath.
“You are too much,” was all I managed to get out in greeting.
“My methods seem to work, what with you here in my arms.”
“See? Too much.” I shook myself free and my eyes flickered between my feet and his gaze. “I guess you’ve had a long time to come up with lines though, and no one to really use them on.”
“That is...” Jude shook his head at me, a crinkle forming on his forehead, “so off the mark, Saylora.”
We stood there for a moment, and god, I was so very tempted to use that knife on all the tension before I decided there was a better way to break it. “Are you really lonely, Jude, or did I make that part up myself?” I asked, daring to look up into his eyes. I felt them search mine as if to verify that my question was genuine.
“It was not made up,” Jude finally said softly.
I swallowed, and very carefully reached out to grab his arm. “You don’t have to be lonely anymore.”
His muscles flexed just barely under my touch, and then I started thinking of all the other things that could be flexing at my touch and I was as good as gone—
I plunged into the space I’d put between us, lips meeting his with the ferocity of my need. He was ready, one hand at my lower back, one to brace my head as he pulled me closer.
“Do I get to see your room?” I murmured between breaths. Good to know that, effective or not, the siren in me was alive and well.
Jude laughed against my lips. I loved the way his laughter fell into my mouth, shook through even the farthest recesses of my body. His hands fell on my waist, reeling me in tighter until there was no space between us. I welcomed the feeling of hardness against me, the overwhelming rush that flooded my body every time his fingers found their way in contact with my bare skin—
The dreamer awakes—
His tongue brushed against my lower lip.
The dreamer awakes, the shadow goes—
I opened my mouth, wanting the taste of him on my tongue.
—the shadow goes by, the tale I have told you—
I pushed through the onslaught that was like a glitch in a record player ringing in my brain, pressing closer into Jude as if to welcome it—
—the tale I have told you, that tale is a lie—
I felt it call to me, felt my mind slipping away into something it needed to know, each touch a spark, each kiss a revelation...
—The tale I have told you, that tale is a lie
But listen to me bright maiden—
“Saylora?” Jude pulled back from me and the words shattered and fell away. I opened my eyes, suddenly aware of the tightness of his grip on my shoulders.
“What?” I asked, wondering what possible reason he could have for stopping mid-makeout to ask me something. (Not that I’d ever done that or anything.)
“Saylora, you’re trembling.”
“I’m fine, I...” I held my hands up into the light and sure enough, they were trembling. “I’m just cold.”
“Do not lie to me. Please. What’s the matter?”
Jud
e cupped my face and I was filled with wonder. I told my brain how stupid it was to think it, but the guy was literally perfect. Like, the actual stuff of fairytales.
Too good to be true— and yet, he was.
I looked him in the eye and it was easy to believe that he once loved me. That he still did. It was also easy to believe that, given more time in this godforsaken tower, I might’ve come to love him, too.
But two weeks wasn’t enough time. I needed to remember.
I could tell Jude wouldn’t settle until he was satisfied I’d told him the truth. So, the generalized truth he would get. “I’m afraid,” I admitted.
“Of which thing? There are many deserving options,” he said kindly, his lightness coaxing a smile from me. He wasn’t exactly wrong.
“Trust me, the irony of this statement doesn’t escape me, but…” I braced myself to say the words I’d never said before. “I feel vulnerable, being with you like this.”
“We don’t have to do anything that you do not wish to.” Jude pulled me in close again, placing my head on his shoulder as he stroked my hair. “Which should go without saying.”
I released a sigh of relief, sedated by that gentle touch. Having your hair played with was pretty far up on the list of having anything else played with, as far as I was concerned.
But I had a mission to accomplish here. I stood taller so I could look at him. “Touching you...” I clutched at his collar to keep my hands occupied from graver, far more entertaining tasks, “feels amazing. But it opens things inside me, pieces I’m not sure how to place, and it... I’m afraid of what I’ll find.”
“Never be afraid of learning the truth, Saylora.”
Jude nuzzled me, and the problem became unbearable all over again. I squeezed my legs together. Keep it cool, Saylor.
“You think I should try to unravel it? Whatever it is that happens to me when I’m with you?” I asked a bit breathlessly.
“If that is what you need.”