He anxiously stepped forward. It’ll be alright, Eden. Please don’t worry.
Though I was certain I’d heard him, he didn’t appear to have said anything. I blinked, slightly disoriented. “Did you say something?”
He stiffened, as if the question caught him off guard, before he relaxed. “Just that it’ll be alright. Don’t worry, Eden.” He reached out and stroked my cheek.
I nodded weakly. I wasn’t sure how things would be alright—indeed, the situation had only grown worse than it’d been before my useless attempts to do something to help—but the feel of his touch soothed me nonetheless.
“Thank you, Darius.”
He smiled gently. “Will you be able to do our Weaving?”
I startled as my gaze snapped to the sky, now tinged with darkness. I’d entirely forgotten about the Weaving. “Do I have to?”
He chuckled. “I’m afraid so, but perhaps I can let you win.”
I shook my head. Even though the jar Nightmare Ember had confiscated was back in my possession, I’d aroused her suspicion, and I doubted my winning solely because Darius let me would go unnoticed.
“There’s no need. Tonight’s dream will beat yours on its own merits.” It was a total lie—I hadn’t prepared a dream at all, so intent on doing something about the balance that I’d once again neglected my Mortal.
I sighed. Perhaps I needed to heed Stardust’s advice after all. Now more than ever I needed to prove to the Council I belonged, and that wouldn’t come from trying to save the world; it would come from being a good Weaver for Maci.
Darius’s look was understanding. “If you need more time, we can delay the Weaving.”
My gaze snapped to his. “I’m convinced you can read my mind.”
He chuckled again. “No, mind reading is not my power.” He froze the moment the words were spoken, as if afraid he’d said too much. My curiosity piqued.
“You have a special power? What is it?”
He stiffened again. “I…well, it’s not normally something I share…”
I was surprised how acute my disappointment was, not just because he hadn’t satisfied my curiosity, but because I wanted him to trust me enough to tell me something so personal. “Won’t you tell me?” I asked.
He hesitated. “One day. I promise.”
My heart lifted slightly. “I’ll hold you to that. Until you do, I’m still convinced you can read minds.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Not mind reading, though admittedly it’d be nice; I’m dying to know what you think of me.”
“Then perhaps I can humor you.” I stepped closer, thrilling at the fluttery hum that seemed to fill the small space between us. “Right now I’m grateful you helped me without question.”
“Hmm, not entirely without question.” His amusement faded, replaced with a rather grave expression. “What were you doing on Earth?”
My mouth went dry. “I…can’t tell you. I’m sorry.” I felt bad denying him, for I did trust him. Perhaps like his power, some things needed to remain secret between us a little while longer.
He frowned but otherwise didn’t press me. Instead he motioned for us to leave for our Weaving, where he kept his word and gave me ample time to plan a dream with the flowers I already had in my bag. The task took longer than I wanted, for I couldn’t help but keep stealing glances at him, the warm feeling in my chest expanding with each one, a sensation so pleasant I didn’t even mind when I lost another Weaving.
Something was shifting between us, and I was both eager and terrified to examine what it was.
Chapter 21
I felt strangely shy around Darius after his help. When he arrived for our next Weaving, I expected an interrogation about what my jar contained and why his mother had felt the need to confiscate it, still baffled he hadn’t demanded an answer the day before, but he merely offered a friendly smile and settled down to wait for me, as he usually did.
The following Weavings were all the same—he didn’t press for information and he continued assisting me, frequently pausing during his own dream construction to give advice or demonstrate a technique; one night he even stayed after another one of his wins to help me construct the blueprint for my upcoming dream and cut my supply of flowers in half. Whenever his gaze—which became progressively softer with each passing night—met mine, the same strange bubbling warmth I’d felt before seeped through my entire body, making it increasingly difficult to focus.
Tonight I tried to focus on my weaving, but it was nigh impossible with my swirling thoughts trying to work out the puzzle as to why Darius had been helping me—both in my Weavings and protecting my secrets from the Nightmare Council. Could our tentative friendship really be more important to him than winning?
As if I could discover the answers from him, I peeked up from tonight’s dream and was disappointed to find him concentrating on his own, tucking his nightmare flowers into his quilt as effortlessly as if he were arranging a bouquet.
Our eyes met. “Do you need any more help?”
My cheeks burned and I hastily returned to my dream, but I sensed his smirk, as well as the heat of his gaze, watching me. My hand shook, causing me to need to unpick my stitches several times.
He trimmed a loose thread and held up his dream, large and intimidating. “Finished. How’s yours?” He glanced over. I was still attempting to stitch my first flowers together, not to mention the hill of images waiting impatiently beside me. “Is that all you’ve done?”
I threw aside my unformed dream and my already loose threads pulled apart. “What’s the point? No matter how much you help, we both know your nightmare will beat mine. It always does.”
“Don’t talk that way, Nemesis. You make me feel guilty for being more talented.” He pinched his fingers close together. “Though only slightly.”
I scowled. “Don’t rub it in.”
His cocky expression softened. “Here, let me. I haven’t been assisting you throughout our entire partnership to give up now.” The dream flowers’ petals coiled at his Nightmare touch as he picked them up. “You have a tendency to weave anywhere. Rather than stitching in an arbitrary place, connect the flowers at a similar detail—they’ll be less likely to break, especially when competing with a nightmare.”
He demonstrated, attaching the two flowers’ auras—a rainbow and a bubble—at the blue hue they shared. Immediately, the images fused together, leaving the stitches as an afterthought. “See how they’re stronger when the flowers are connected at a similar detail? Try it with these two flowers.” He pointed to a lullaby flower and one designed to draw its detail from a Mortal’s memory before consulting my dream blueprint floating beside us. “Since you’re planning on using this memory-retrieval flower on the sound of Maci’s mother singing her to sleep, I suggest using the chain stitch on each note; it’s flexible and will match the fluid movement of the music, causing it to sound more realistic.”
I took my forming dream with a sigh. “You really are a talented Weaver.” How aggravating that his constant bragging was justified.
“Of course,” he said. “But I was trained at the Academy. You’re doing remarkably well considering your limited training.”
Was that actually a compliment? My heart beat faster as I returned to my weaving. “I’m surprised the Council even allowed me to remain in the Dream World with such limited training and after my rather dismal showcase of skills during my test, especially when they were initially so hesitant to do so.” I narrowed my eyes at Darius’s rather guilty expression, and suddenly remembered him claiming that he’d helped me when I met with the Council. “Do you happen to know anything about that?”
“Of course not,” he said hastily…a bit too hastily. “I’m sure they saw your potential and wanted to give you the opportunity…” He trailed off. My frown deepened.
“You’re lying.” I wasn’t sure how I knew this, only that I did, as if the knowledge came from the sixth sense that always seemed to exist around Darius.
>
He released a long breath. “Perhaps I might have…persuaded them a bit.”
I stared at him. “Persuaded them? How? Why?”
Crimson dotted his cheeks as he peeked up at me, almost shyly. “You wanted to stay so badly, and I could tell they were about to deny you entrance. So I…wanted to help you.”
That didn’t answer my question on how Darius had persuaded the Council when, as far as I could remember, he hadn’t done anything to sway them to my cause. But before I could interrogate him further, Darius turned away, signaling an end to our conversation…for now.
My dream didn’t take too much longer to complete. When I’d finished, Darius took it and tested its durability by tugging at a few flowers. When they held firm, he held it up and studied it.
I fidgeted. “What do you think?”
“Not bad. I suppose we’ll see how well it does against mine; tonight’s nightmare is not only my favorite, it’s my best.”
My heart sunk. That didn’t sound good. “Then why haven’t you woven it until tonight?”
Darius grinned. “While observing Maci this afternoon, I saw her discover a creature I’ve been anxious to use in my nightmares. Now that she knows what it is, I can.”
“You were watching Maci?”
“Nightmares are most effective when they touch on a Mortal’s experiences and fears,” he said. “The more I know about my Mortal, the more I’ll know what frightens her. The same is true with creating dreams. You should try it sometime if you ever finish raiding the Cultivating Fields of all its flowers.” Unlike the previous times he’d given me that jab, tonight his voice was teasing rather than hostile, and I couldn’t help but smile.
Things were going so well between Darius and me that I didn’t want to risk tumbling into my dream tonight, so after we’d dropped our quilts onto Maci, I clutched my weaving mirror, nearly pressing it against my nose.
This was the first dream I hadn’t copied but had instead tried to weave from my heart, and it turned out to be the strongest I’d ever created, despite it being my simplest one. A rainbow of bubbles of various sizes surrounded Maci, glistening as they rained from the sunlit sky. One by one they popped, triggering a trill of Maci’s favorite lullaby sung in her mother’s melodious voice. The dream was relatively short, but it felt peaceful and gentle. The dream slowly faded away as the last bubble burst and the lullaby’s final note played without any sign of having been interrupted by a nightmare.
Dream dust gathered in a shimmery cloud and swirled through the air to seep into my dream locket. I blinked. “Did I win?”
Darius gaped at my considerably fuller locket before grinning crookedly. “Looks like it.”
I beamed as the clear dust now harbored in my locket turned lilac, a symbol it was now mine. “I can’t believe it, I finally won. The invincible Darius actually lost.” I giggled and clasped my hands. Wow, what a rush.
But it was more than the thrill of finally beating Darius and taking one step closer to securing my place in the Dream World. Below us, Maci slept soundly, her expression content. Warmth, powerful and glowing, expanded from my heart. Maci had enjoyed my dream. It made my victory infinitely sweeter.
Darius chuckled at my exuberance. “Congratulations, Nemesis.” Then his grin vanished. “Comets, you beat me. What have I done? I hate losing.”
“Nonsense.” Bolt crawled out of Darius’s upright hair. “Only this morning you said you hoped tonight would be the night Eden finally—”
Darius pinched Bolt’s mouth shut, his cheeks crimson.
I dipped my finger inside my locket and lightly traced some dream dust along the spiderweb strands stretching from his eye. He stiffened beneath my fingertip before relaxing against my touch. “Thank you for your help. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
For a brief second Darius’s lips curved up, but the hinted smile almost immediately vanished before his usual serious expression returned. He cleared his throat. “I hope you realize I didn’t help you for your benefit, but for the necessity of maintaining the balance between the Dream and Nightmare Realms. Now that you know the basics, there’s no more need for my assistance.”
Bolt tsked from Darius’s shoulder. “Why won’t you admit you wanted to help her become a better Weaver?”
Darius whacked him, but instead of falling off his perch, Bolt gracefully hung by a silk thread, where he sent me another mischievous wink.
Just then I noticed my dream, a bubble of lavender light, floating above Maci’s cradle beside Darius’s olive swirl, which was shrinking rapidly for having not been viewed. Face still crimson, Darius glanced towards where I was watching. “What are you staring at?”
“Nothing.” I hastily looked away, but Darius’s nightmare floated closer and tauntingly bounced in my peripheral vision, its eerie glow luring my gaze like a moth to a flame. Just one peek wouldn’t hurt…no, I couldn’t give in, not in front of Darius.
But my curiosity lingered. Which nightmare had my dream finally beaten? Wouldn't it be invaluable to study it, if only to compare its strength against my own dream to aid me in future Weavings? After all, it wasn’t just any nightmare; Darius had claimed it was his favorite.
The nightmare floated closer. My eyes flickered back and forth between it and the ceiling. Don’t give in, don’t give in…but during one of my accidental glimpses, my gaze lingered too long. The familiar swoosh swept over me as I tumbled inside.
Maci’s bedroom had disappeared, swallowed up in an ocean of spiders, crawling across the cobwebs draped in a canopy over her cradle. Hundreds more covered the walls in swirling clouds of black. Although it was a tamer version of the nightmare Darius had given me due to it being absent Maci’s fear, the heart of the nightmare was the same as the one Darius had woven for me all those months ago.
I tried tugging myself free from my sticky prison but I was trapped. The spiders scurried closer until they were upon me, tickling my toes and infesting my hair, torturing me without escape from the never-ending agony of their pattering legs.
“Nemesis? Nemesis?” Darius’s frantic voice sounded from a great distance away, an echo that steadily grew louder and more desperate. “Eden? Eden?”
Abruptly, I jerked from the dream and found myself back in Maci’s spider-free bedroom. Darius held my shoulders in an iron grip, his eyes wide. “Snap out of it, Eden.”
I blinked, dazed, and relief flooded Darius’s face.
“You did it again. Tell me what happened. Now.”
I seemed to have lost the ability to speak, as if the nightmare’s cobwebs had filled my throat and blocked all sound. Darius’s fingers holding me felt eerily similar to the weight of the spiders’ legs.
“Get them off me.” I shook myself from his grip, but the sensation lingered. I frantically rubbed my arms, but I couldn’t shake off the horrible fear entangling me like I was still trapped within the nightmare’s tangled webs.
“What’s wrong?” Despite its hardness, Darius’s tone was tinged with worry.
“You, that’s what’s wrong. Spiders everywhere, crawling all over me, even invading my hair. Ew, I can still feel their horrible legs. What is your obsession with spiders anyway? Branding yourself with their webs, having one for a pet…you’re insane. They’re so creepy.”
“We’re not creepy,” Bolt said from Darius’s hair, but thankfully he had the decency not to emerge.
Darius said nothing for a moment, staring at me with an intense, unreadable expression that I was certain he could read my secrets that threatened to spill out. “They’re the ultimate Weavers,” he said warily.
Silence.
“Well, that’s ridiculous,” I snapped. “Surely you wouldn’t like them so much if you ever had the misfortune of experiencing spiders investigating every inch of—” My words finally registered. I gasped and covered my mouth.
Life flickered in Darius’s stony countenance. “You seem to be privy to an unusual amount of details about tonight’s nightmare. How…interesting.�
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I pressed my hands tighter over my mouth, as if the action could smother the words which had already escaped.
“Enlighten me: how did you come to possess this knowledge? I told you nothing about my nightmare.”
“I saw—I saw—” No, I couldn’t tell him, but what possible excuse could wiggle me out of this mess? There was no logical explanation as to how I knew about Darius’s nightmare. I was just like a fly, trapped in a web of my own creation, and about to be devoured by a man who was supposed to be my enemy.
His eyes glistened as he stepped closer. “What did you see? Did my dream magically appear in your weaving mirror? Do you have a special mirror that allows you to see the impossible?”
“I saw the nightmare flowers you used.” But the excuse sounded weak, even to me. I hardly paid attention when he wove—I certainly hadn’t tonight—and we both knew it.
Darius’s extended silence was torturous. “Strange, I recall you were entirely preoccupied with struggling with your own weaving tonight. What an amazing feat, to be able to know so much about my nightmare by merely seeing the flowers I used, without observing the stitchery that created it. You must have been paying very close attention…unless there’s another explanation.”
I felt his penetrating gaze peeling back the layers burying my secrets. There seemed to be only one way to escape this interrogation, an undesired path, but the lesser of the two evils looming before me.
“I knew because the flowers you used tonight reminded me of the nightmare you gave me.”
I braced myself for his reaction to the confession he’d been trying to weasel out of me from the beginning. He said nothing for a moment, but the triumph flashed in his eyes.
“That I already knew. What’s still bothering me is why you couldn’t receive any of the dreams other Weavers wove for you, but that’s an investigation for another time. I’m glad you finally admitted it. It seemed silly prolonging your charade of denial. It would be a shame to continue down that path, wouldn’t it?”
Comets, did he know I’d seen his dream tonight? He had to. But then why wasn’t he confronting me? This was the piece of evidence he’d been waiting for ever since I’d entered this world. Surely, he’d turn my secrets into the Council, and I’d be kicked out by dawn.
Dreamer (The Dream World Chronicles Book 1) Page 25