Dreams Lie Beneath

by Rebecca Ross

One does not realize how powerful a dream is, in the sleeping world as well as the waking one, until it has been stolen from them.

Our souls were two different points on a compass; the intent behind our magic flowed in opposite currents. He was cautious, reserved. Traditional. And I wasn’t.

Sometimes the men of Hereswith didn’t know how to take my wit.

“Are men forbidden from the market these days, Miss Westin?” “If only they could be,”

Lmao real!!

Magicians could fuel their spells in one of three ways: body, mind, or heart. Depending on what energy force the magicians preferred to cast with, we needed things like food, drink, sleep, good company, books, art, music, and solitude to refill, or risked burning ourselves into oblivion.

“But do you always take part in a meal with weapons on your belt?” “It depends on the night,” I replied. “And the company.”

“And you still guard them from their nightmares, despite the fact they cannot even pay you a penny in gratitude?”

Ew

Phelan’s words continued to sound in my mind, like an instrument that would not cease playing. You challenged me as if you were a nightmare on a new moon. He had no idea.

And when he extended the umbrella to me . . . I accepted it, my icy fingers brushing his.

His bedchamber was modest, composed of earthen colors—greens and browns and grays. A mosaic of a forest graced one of the walls and a wardrobe sat in one corner, a writing desk in another. Stacks of books graced the floor, which I found surprising, since Phelan seemed to love tidiness. The curtains were drawn, and his four-poster bed was spacious, a canopy tasseled to the posts.

my dream

a simple yet elegant forest-green dress with flora and fauna embroidered on the bodice in golden thread.

i need that

I’m rather grouchy until I’ve had my tea.” He smiled. A true, brilliant smile that warmed his eyes and made my stomach coil with warning. “As I’ve learned, Miss Neven. Here, return to bed. I’ve brought breakfast to you, as well as your own rapier.”

When I met his gaze, I found that his eyes were dark and inscrutable, riveted to my own. “Is this punishment?” he whispered. Yes, I wanted to say. Punishment for stealing my home, for burning my artwork. For not being as I expected.

My life had changed seasons; I could never go back to how things had been. And when I met Phelan’s dark gaze, my nostalgia melted away, leaving me standing in a world I had made.

She hasn’t gotten with the duke since then.”

"gotten with" too modern

LENNOX

“If I ever became a duchess,” I said, “it would be by my own choice and merit, and not by marriage.”

“Talk more about what?” he asked. “The fact that you missed me?” I suddenly couldn’t tell if he was humoring me or deadly serious. “I never said that I missed you. I said that it was quiet here.” He took another step closer. “Then let me be the first to confess. I missed you.”

Ahhhhhhhh

“Your mother is making these enchanted cards, unaware that she is also giving someone the chance to wreak havoc on the new moon,”

Unaware??? Please

I straddled his waist, held him beneath me, and before I knew it, I called his abandoned dagger. The weapon came willingly into my hand; I set its glittering edge to his throat and he went still, his gaze fixed on mine.

Thats what im talkin abouttt

“I hope you enjoyed every moment you played me a fool,” he said.

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.

Fuck theu gonna die

But perhaps love was not something easily forgotten, even when it had burned down to ashes.

I wanted to throw more kindling on my hate and yet you gave me nothing to burn,

“I dreamt of you yesterday, Clem.”

Omvg calling her clem

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.

And a few strands of auburn now shone among the golden brown of my hair.

“Let me hold you one last time, my quiet boy,” Imonie said with a smile, stroking the hair from his brow. “My scholar of dreams.”

AHHH CALLEDIR

“Will you tell me a story?” A flicker of surprise passed over Imonie’s face. But then she smiled and smoothed the wrinkles from my blankets. And my grandmother told me the stories of the mountains.

<3

“Is he dead?” I asked. My father nodded.

Yayyyyy

Papa made a sound, and I think he was swallowing his tears. He leaned close to me and dropped a kiss on my brow, and I knew he would walk beside me, that he would be with me for the hard days as well as the good days.

I thought about the different paths we had each taken—vengeance and fear and anger and solitude and pain—and yet how all three of us had ended up here, in this strange moment of new beginnings.

I let out a shaky breath. “Ah, where do I even begin?” Olivette leaned closer to me. “Begin at the beginning.”

Like soooo true

Once, he had been afraid of what others thought of him. Once, I had been bent by revenge and coldness and believed myself stronger alone.

A sketchbook full of empty pages. Three sticks of sharpened charcoal. I slowly began to draw again.