Dreaming Awake

by EF Joyce

  He'd learned on his first day through all the soldiers' complaints that their beloved commander had been stripped of his rank and tossed out of the army due to his scandalous marriage to the youngest princess, who was half his age and known for her wild reputation. Drexel remembered seeing her in the Underground Market, beautiful and naive, tossing out jewels to the Underlings. Apparently she was somewhat of a joke in Arcadia, the only royal no one paid attention to or took seriously, at least until she'd stolen Hale from their ranks. According to his fellow soldiers, the reason he'd never seen her on a broadcast before was because she had nothing to do with politics, the syndicate, or really anything at all. A waste of space and royal blood.

  Drexel didn't know what to make of it. Surely the leader of the rebellion and the commander of the Arcadian Army did nothing without reason. Why risk his title and power to publicize his relationship with a worthless royal? Rumors were flying that her family had alienated her, and that she had no say in royal affairs, so their marriage couldn't possibly be politically motivated. But the Monarch always played the long game, so what was he really after? It had taken him twenty years of slow hard work to build the Monarch rebellion and climb the ranks to commander. Why jeopardize all that? Surely she was another piece to the Monarch's puzzle, even if Drexel couldn't see the big picture yet.

  After nearly a week of pretending to be Arcadian, the former commander called on him. Drexel stood awkwardly outside the Imperial Residential Wing, unable to get through the glass doors with his fingerprint. Soon Hale appeared, dressed in plain gray clothes yet looking just as imposing as he had in his uniform. The doors whooshed open and he motioned for Drexel to follow, leading him down a straight marble corridor and into the apartment at the end.

  Drexel's amazing, sprawling and luxurious space was nothing compared to the princess's apartment, the living room alone larger than all his rooms together. Hale sat on one of the sofas and gestured for Drexel to do the same. He sat, wondering how much it had cost, how much all this had cost. The quarters were carefully neutral; blue sofas and light wood, a machine gun on display beside a vase of roses. Did the princess really live here?

  "Rozlyn isn't here," Hale said, probably reading his thoughts like an open book. "We're going to discuss the job I told you about, the one that will win us this war. You have what the outside world calls dream magic. You create illusions, maintain them. You can hide your presence, become invisible to the eye, make people see things that aren't there. Do you think you could take the shape of another?" Become someone else? No problem. That was what he did.

  Drexel focused his magic, eyes locked on Hale's face. Carefully, he wove the illusion together, memorizing Hale, becoming him.

  The commander smiled.

  Chapter 30

  Elixa paced her throne room, glaring at the rain, uncertain what to expect. Grayna then Balkin had been her most frequent council visitors, but now one was dead and the other half way around the world. Her father had pestered her daily but now he'd escaped. Balkin had followed her instructions to the letter – kill Sundry, take Sebastian prisoner. Anaka had not been at the meeting and her rooms were empty. No one could find a trace of her anywhere. Elixa had almost been relieved. If she never saw her again, she would not have to execute her for treason. Run, my old friend, run into obscurity and never look back. The queen had ordered a pregnant Wakati servant girl murdered, her face smashed beyond recognition and her body presented as the Handmaiden's.

  The circle of people Elixa cared for in this life was a tiny one: her mother, now dead, her father, more of an asshole with each passing year, and Anaka. Whatever the reason for her betrayal, it had to be a good one. Besides, the queen had bigger things to worry about; like what was happening in Darvaza and where the hell her father was and how he'd gotten away. Everyone she'd spoken to had assured her that the room where the Sphere lived was the most secure in the palace. They had gotten him, trapped him, held him for a week and then poof, he'd vanished. Despite his miraculous escape, she had already been one step ahead of him. The day of the coup she'd ordered his statues smashed, his temples burned, his priestesses hung and his religion a crime throughout all fifty-two provinces. If Sebastian Elspeth even tried to return, he would find few allies. Or so she had hoped.

  The Ilahi's followers were spread farther and wider than she'd imagined and more fanatical than she'd ever expected. The queen's sudden crackdown on religion had resulted in a backlash she had not been prepared for. With her forces otherwise occupied in Darvaza, riots went unsuppressed, looting, murder and chaos spread through the streets, especially in the old provinces. Once Alaric defeated his father in Darvaza and joined her in Yeraz, Sebastian would no longer be a threat. With the combined forces of Dalga and Yeraz, she would be unstoppable – but until that moment arrived the queen had an uprising on her hands that was quickly spiraling out of control. She needed enforcers, and fast.

  "Guards! Summon Mills!" The queen commanded from her throne. The words echoed from the vaulted ceiling, unanswered and tiny in the great empty space. "Guards!" she thundered once more. Lazy, arrogant bastards. Who did they think they were, making their queen wait? "GUARDS!" Finally the queen rose regally from her silver throne and stalked to the double doors, every step clicking louder and louder, echoing with the force of her rage. Elixa gripped one carved silver handle in each hand and pulled hard. Whichever idiot sloths stood on the other side were about to get relieved from their jobs, in the most permanent way. No, don't think like that Elixa. You're not that person anymore.

  The queen yanked the handles and...the doors did not budge. She pulled again and again, each time refusing to believe the evidence in front of her: someone had locked her in her own tower! Insolent bastards! This was not the work of some random guardsman. This had been planned. Less than a day after her father's escape and here she was, sealed like a prisoner. But she hadn't even left the tower after being told Sebastian had vanished; she could have been locked in for the last day and half without even knowing. Mills could have sealed the doors after delivering the news. He must have. He'd stepped in quickly enough to fill the void of power left open by Grayna's death, Balkin's deployment and Sebastian's imprisonment. The Queen of Dreams had been the only standing in his way from taking Yeraz completely.

  Elixa Elspeth would not be disposed of so easily. For trapping her here, Mills would soon be living his worst nightmares. But first, she would need allies.

  II

  RONAN

  "Sir, you must send all our reserve troops to Darvaza immediately," the boy begged, smelling like sweat and horse and hundreds of road miles.

  "I'm afraid that is not possible," Mills replied, sizing him up. A skinny lad with dark green eyes and sweat soaked blonde hair. Nothing like his father, nothing at all. Estrial Hakkon had been a respectable man, a proper killer.

  "Did you not hear what I just said? Eide has just taken control of the entire Yerazi army camped outside Darvaza. They are marching here to take the capitol!"

  "And how is it that you were left unharmed? Hmm? Apprentice to a filthy Wakati, that's all you are. Your opinion is dirt between my toenails. Now get out."

  Who did this brat think he was, speaking to Hecton Mills that way? Riding on the coattails of his father's reputation was not going to work, no sir. As far as Mills knew, and he tended to keep track of these things, this Ronan kid had yet to complete a single Kan Sivid. The shame his sainted father must feel, rolling in his grave! At least that Wakati had the stones to kill, though she'd certainly failed her apprentice.

  "Sir, please! If we do not stop them, they will take the capitol. They will enslave us all and Alaric Eide will take control of everything!"

  "If you do not remove yourself from the premises immediately, I will have you thrown in the dungeons. Out of my great respect for your father, I am giving you this last warning. Do not think to test my patience."

  "You're making a huge mistake," the brat chastised. "You will wish you had listened to me when E
ide arrives and takes the capitol with our own soldiers." The kid walked out, leaving Mills with more questions than answers. Should he warn the queen? He couldn't avoid her forever. He should probably go and speak with her. Mills shuddered at the thought, a feeling like a thousand ants crawling over his spine. Perhaps tomorrow.

  Chapter 31

  The Queen of Dreams dreamt her way to Darvaza on a still moonlit night, appearing just outside the camp. The men slept in rows under the open sky, a few seated here and there as lookouts, stretching out in front of flickering fires, sipping from their flasks. At first glance, the scene was typical, until the queen noticed the tents had been taken down, the carts loaded and the supplies packed up. If Alaric had asked to meet her here, surely he would give an explanation for this. Balkin should be here too, and though Elixa loathed him, she would need his allegiance in order to maintain control of her own forces. These were delicate times.

  Who would have suspected so many religious nuts would rise up against their own queen? How had her father managed to ensnare the hearts of so many Yerazi? She could not begin to handle the chaos emerging from her declarations against her father and his pretended divinity. Though she'd come to speak with Alaric, she also needed a few of her legions returned to Yeraz to sort out this mess. She'd been truly in charge for barely a month and everything had already gone to shit. Maybe I did need you, Papa. No, don't think like that. He's an arrogant, manipulative asshole and Yeraz is a better empire without his influence.

  Elixa arrived at the place Alaric had specified, hidden under a cloak and suffering for it. Even the nights were saunas in Dalga. A Wakati slave girl greeted her at the door of the gold gilded inn, bowing deeply and leading her up a marble stair, finally ushering her into a luxurious suite that stretched across the entirety of the top floor. White marble flooring, white painted walls, white sheer curtains over full length windows made the suite seemed cavernous. Plants were everywhere; hanging from ceiling hooks boxed in by windows, growing from wooden planters, bright southern flowers blooming from white vases perched on every available surface, filling the space with their perfume.

  "Welcome, my lady," Alaric rose from his chair, pulling her into an unexpected embrace and planting a delicate kiss on her cheek. "Please, sit. I have iced rose tea from my personal collection, or gras if you prefer."

  "It's much too hot for gras," she said, pulling off the cloak and tossing it over a chair. "I will have some of your tea." He nodded to the slave girl who promptly poured two cups.

  "I suppose you saw your armies on the way in," he said, inclining his head over the crystal glass of pale pink tea.

  "I certainly did. And I suppose you have an explanation for why they are ready to abandon the fight against Dazhan?" She sipped the tea; rose petals and orange peels with a hint of cinnamon.

  "Not abandon, no certainly not. Believe it or not, I am not a cruel man, Elixa. Though I have given up on saving my whole kingdom from my father's wrath, I did give them fair warning so that not all of Dalga would be swallowed by my father's forces. Thousands of refugees are moving through the pass at this very moment, in need of sanctuary. I am moving your forces, with the consent and assistance of your Grand General, into Darvaza proper.

  "The city's citizens will camp outside the gates along with the refugees. I do not know how large this camp will grow," he added, frowning into his tea. "But I want to make certain trained soldiers are the first ones my father's men meet on this side of the Hündür." Moving the soldiers into Darvaza would act as a buffer between the pass and Alaric's refugees. Smart. The queen nodded her approval, then set down the crystal tea cup on the marble table with a click.

  "I agree with how you and Grand General Balkin are running things here, but there is another matter I've need to implore of you both. Is the Grand General available?"

  "Indeed, my lady. He waits in his own suite one floor down, just in case you required his presence." Alaric nodded to the slave girl, who quickly stepped from the room. "Things are progressing favorably," he continued, sipping his tea. A cool breeze wafted from the open window, twirling the sheer curtains and mingling the heavy scent of the flowers surrounding them. "According to my contacts, Darian sailed for this continent nearly a week ago. That leaves us with three weeks before he arrives, and another two to three before he can march his forces from Dalga's shores to the Sitkaska Pass. I am confident we will be fully prepared by then." A soft knock on the vast white doors interrupted him.

  "Enter," he called. Balkin marched in clad in a set of southern robes colored in the fashion of his uniform. He walked straight toward her without hint of the shaking terror he typically faced her with and dropped to his knees on the floor, pressing his forehead to the tile. "Your majesty." He said. Elixa tensed. What had happened? The Grand General and other council members owed the queen only a slight incline of the head. Nobility bowed to the waist and merchant classes and other citizens of rank to the knee. Only the lowest of peasants prostrated themselves before the queen. Unless they had something serious to beg forgiveness for.

  "What have you done, Grand General?" Balkin rose, meeting her steely gaze with an eyebrow wrinkle of confusion.

  "Nothing, my queen! Why should you ask?" He kept his gaze locked on hers, no flinching, no blinking, no sweating. Not like Balkin at all.

  "You fall down before me and have nothing to apologize for? What's the meaning of this?" The queen stole a glance at Alaric. His eyebrows furrowed and his jaw tensed, his gaze locked on the floor as if in deep thought.

  "My queen, I am sorry I did not mean to offend," Balkin prattled, but Elixa ignored him. A bead of sweat ran down Alaric's temple. "Let us sit and discuss the war. King Eide said there was something you wished to ask of me?" Balkin's tone was even; no fear, no wavering, no sweating, no darting eyes. Elixa stood and stepped in front of Alaric, still sitting in his white chair, wondering how to floor had gotten so shiny. Or controlling Balkin's mind. One of those. Hadn't he said himself that it took all his concentration to control someone completely? He looked up, his eyes dilating the blue to a tiny ring.

  "Alaric Eide," she said, her voice shaking. "I trusted you." Like an idiot. Her father had been right, about everything. And had she listened to him? No, of course not. She'd bought right in to Alaric's whispers about Sebastian's dark past and evil nature. She'd imprisoned her own father and fallen for her greatest enemy. But at least her father hadn't left her with nothing.

  The Queen of Dreams called the Sphere's magic with a thought, letting it fill her to breaking. Her body pulsed with magic. It tingled in her blood, glowed through her skin, electrified her body. I will end you, Eide. You cannot make an enemy of the Red Queen and live to tell the tale. She would turn him to dust, to bloody mist peppering the white room, to a stain for the maid to wipe up. Alaric stood, an inch away, waiting for death. Death she would deliver, now. And with just a thought –

  "I'm afraid I cannot let you do that, Elixa Tristenza." Just as quickly, her magic drained away, leaving her breathless and empty. A metal trap clamped around her mind. Thoughts, emotions, needs, desires, all there but muted, seeing without touching. The queen stood rigid and controlled, still possessed of her own thoughts but unable to act. Her true name, it had to be. But how had Alaric known it when she hadn't?

  "I'm sorry, Elixa, I truly am." He paced in a circle around her, a predator sizing up his prey. Not that she had any fight left in her. "I never wanted this. I wanted you to choose our alliance." Free will without consequence is not free will, Elixa thought but could not say, her lips sealed by Alaric's magic. "You are so right. And I will be returning yours to you," he said. "You will return to Yeraz now, and in full power of yourself. However, to protect myself, I am limiting your access to magic. You will not be able to dream your way to me or Dalga or act against me. The rest of the world remains yours, for the time being. I hope you will reconsider your actions and that we can be allies once more.

  "I'm sorry I was forced to lie to you. I did this for the b
est interest of my country and my people. But I have grown to care for you, Elixa. Honestly, I have. I will win this war; I have already. And when I arrive in Yeraz I can only hope you will choose to stand beside me." Elixa pushed back, with all the might of the Sphere behind her. Its magic rose up inside her like a tidal wave, crashing into the vice around her mind, snapping and discarding it. Feeling Alaric's magic, a tiny, bright tendril weaving its way through her thoughts, she latched on and pushed further, into his mind.

  The same scene he'd shown her earlier echoed through her thoughts; young Alaric trapped in a cell, his wicked father standing above. Only now, the images had reversed. The eternally young and dark eyed Darian was the one crouching in the cell's corner, a present day Alaric holding the lantern over him. Asher Harrington, I have your name, Alaric's voice boomed. You trusted me as a child and now you are mine. Never forget that you are mine. Even should you escape from here, your chains are everlasting and unbreakable, no matter how far you run.

  Asher Harrington, the true name of Darian Eide. His own son had used it to enslave him, had shown Elixa false memories so that she would trust him, had twisted everything to sound like a legendary tale; her father the villain and Elixa, the reluctant hero. She'd fallen for it because she'd wanted a reason to tear Sebastian down. She'd been looking for one since her tenth birthday. Alaric knew this. With her name, her knew everything and he'd played her right into his hands.

  Alaric pressed back, fighting her magic with his own. Sharp pain lanced through her head, bright light replacing Alaric's stolen memories. The queen's eyes snapped open to her bedroom, the humid breezes of the south replaced with Yeraz's unyielding cold. The icy floor stung her bare feet as she flung herself from the four-poster bed, her pulse fluttering at the base of her neck. The hearth was black and dead; stupid lazy servants forgetting to light her fire. A storm raged beyond her tower window, the wet gray sky emptying into the bleak churning sea. Elixa slumped to the floor, hugging her knees and staring glassy eyed at the cruel world beyond.