Dreams Lie Beneath

by Rebecca Ross

I already knew there was room in his bed. I had slept at his side once, and it had been one of the best nights of sleep I had experienced since leaving Hereswith.

someone who knew me in all my shades,

Beautiful

“I need you. And if you had departed as I first wanted, I would have soon come after you.”

I shivered, but I refused to dwell on how his words made me feel, like I was sugar melting in tea.

The impact sent us sprawling into a bracken patch. My hands delved into the damp soil above his shoulders, my legs straddled his waist, and I felt every point of contact between us. The heaves of his breaths beneath me. How his warmth chased away the cold nip of the night.

He was frozen, staring at something on my left calf. Two scars made by fangs, on a night not unlike this one. When I had nearly drowned and had pulled myself into Phelan’s boat. They were scars I thought he would never see, and so I had left them when Mazarine transformed me.

My desire ran dark and deep. I wanted to face him again, wholly known. I wanted to answer his challenge. I wanted to clash with him.

He stared at me, panting, blue petals and silver leaves in his hair. He tossed his dagger aside.

But the moment our gazes met, the glittering, firelit world faded around us. There were only shadows and a path that connected him to me, a path that felt treacherous to walk in the sense that it might undo me.

somewhere deep within me, Clem was screaming in my bones.

The lift jerked to a halt and I stumbled backward into Phelan. He grasped hold of my arm, steadying me, and he didn’t let go until the countess took the first step off the lift, onto the highest landing of the fortress.

I trusted him because he was protecting me by keeping my true identity a secret, for unknown reasons. Although sometimes I imagined that I knew why, when Phelan looked at me.

I wanted to wrap my arms around Imonie and bury my face in her dress, to breathe her in as I had done as a child. Oh, how she had loved me, the granddaughter she could not claim in word because of her and my father’s secrets, but she had claimed me in love. And that love had given me a warm, safe childhood, despite the pain of my parents’ separation. That love had clothed me and fed me and raised me, protected me.

I waited for him to speak and began to unwind my braid with my fingers, my hair coming loose in rich waves. He watched me, transfixed, until I asked, “What did you need to talk to me about?”

“Honestly, Phelan! Do I look that merciless to you?” He stared at me. “I don’t know what I see in you.”

I wanted to throw more kindling on my hate and yet you gave me nothing to burn, because you are simply too good. Even now, you are too good.” I shoved his chest for emphasis. He didn’t budge, but his hands rose to capture mine.

I don’t know why you are holding my secret like it is one of your own.”

“We have never dreamt, you and me. All our lives, we have been void of dreams until now. And at last, we dream, and your first is tainted by a treacherous girl who you must despise.” “I would not trade such a dream,” he was swift to say. “Not for me, not for the world. Not even to break this curse. But for your sake in this strange game we find ourselves trapped within . . . I would.”

“I wanted it to be you,” he said, his voice deep, rough-hewn. “When I returned to the museum for that final interview . . . gods, how I wanted it to be you.”

My heart sang a vibrant ache; the pain branched through me, a sharp warning that stole my breath.

“When you said my name . . . the stone within me suffered a crack. And I don’t regret that it did, because I had forgotten how vital it is to be known for who you are, and not for who you pretend to be. I had forgotten how good it is to be seen, even with flaws and scars. I wanted you to see me. But I can’t risk it now.

To kiss the hollow of my palm, as if sealing me with a vow. “Rest now, Clem.”

Phelan had become my greatest alliance while also becoming my greatest threat. And a few strands of auburn now shone among the golden brown of my hair.

“Yes,” I said, keeping my voice low. “I hear he was once a great warden.” “I believe he still is,” Phelan said gently.

“You have crept into my stone of a heart and softened me, to my immense dismay and utter astonishment.

“The two of you are like iron, sharpening the other,”

“I have kept this extraordinary yet fragile mortal alive,” Mazarine replied smoothly. “I believe gratitude is in order?”

And my grandmother told me the stories of the mountains.

Of bringing something broken back together, and not just with magic but with stories and friendship and good food.”

A girl with gleaming teeth and fallen stars in her long, red hair. A girl with cold, determined eyes.