Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 426

Chapter 426: Dream a little dream of me
Trace woke, not as refreshed as he possibly could have been, but better than he had felt in weeks.

Anaisa opened her eyes as he watched, and he marveled at the simple pleasure of waking up next to the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

The night, if it even was night, really–who could tell in this cave?–hadn’t been without its challenges.

Trace had kept vigil on the Emperor’s dreams as he did, constantly.

But when he’d seen Anaisa’s dream appear… well, he could use a companion, couldn’t he? Someone else to watch the large orb of fury while it roiled and shook and tried to rupture.

More eyes were better. Right?

So he’d quickly gone and retrieved her.

The solitude was better with her in it. The void between dreams was not so daunting while she held his hand and they talked, openly, for the first time since her arrival.

Really talked.

He learned about Daniel, how their oldest son was really coming into his own. Despite the initial spurt of disobedience that resulted in him being on the journey, it seemed the lad had been genuinely helpful, even crucial, at several points along the way.

It made him proud.

Anaisa also poured out her heart, her struggles and challenges, to him. The journey from her point of view was so different from Mia’s telling.

His niece’s tale was colored by a mixture of guilt and upbeat optimism, whereas Anaisa saw far more.

She talked of the romance that had bloomed between Ford and Mia. Talked of the heart-wrenching discovery of having a brother–or maybe cousin–and how that renewed the shame she carried of her family’s legacy.

Her father’s damage had further-reaching consequences on the world than she had known. She spoke very fondly of young Ford, and Trace began to see things from her perspective.

When he heard how often the young man threw himself between Mia and danger, and not from Mia’s extremely biased perspective, it did more to alter his perception of the young man.

Particularly interesting was Mia’s magical draw. Trace had contemplated this in silence for quite some time before Anaisa had nudged him with her shoulder.

“You’re thinking a lot. Let me in,” She had teased, and he had obliged.

“Your dreams have always held such a strong lure for me,” He told her frankly. “It was a challenge to stay away from them, and at the time, I chalked it up to curiosity about the woman who had been dumped on my doorstep and declared my wife.”

“And now?” Anaisa had tilted her head and studied him while he continued staring at the Emperor’s tumultuous orb.

“Now, I wonder if my magic didn’t have some reason to pull me towards you. Maybe it knew I would love you before I knew it myself. Maybe Mia’s is the same way. When you’re born with magic… maybe it knows you better than you know yourself.”

“Sanders never talked of magic being sentient,” Anaisa had sighed.

“But he said knowledge is power. And what is magic, but a kind of power? Maybe there’s a knowledge in it, too…” Trace had mused.

“As long as it lets you know you love me,” Anaisa had stolen a kiss before leaning against his shoulder to continue watching with him. “It’s almost hypnotic, isn’t it?”

“Very much so. I think perhaps he designed it that way, if he controls it,” Trace had agreed. “I have to look away every so often…”

“Well, then look at me,” She’d teased.

And so on they had lingered and chatted until the lift of wakefulness had driven them back to the real world.

Well, as real as it got right now. Still, Trace treasured looking into his wife’s beautiful eyes and remembering the long night alone they’d spent in the void between dreams.

Only the two of them. He wished it could have been longer.

“Good Morning,” He greeted her lightly, though they’d spoken only seconds before.

“Good Morning?” She blinked slowly and slid to sitting up. “Is it morning? Are there mornings in this dank cave or just an ever-present night that never fades?”

Trace chuckled. “You always wake up so cheerfully. I missed that.”

She crinkled her delicate nose at him, and he leaned over to kiss it before turning his attention to his work.

The Emperor’s dreams had changed in quality overnight, but that didn’t mean he should become lazy.

The carnage had abated somewhat, when measured in volume, but seemed to intensify in viciousness. No longer were there quite so many attacks on the edges of the dream, but the epicenter, at least from Trace’s distant viewpoint, looked worse than ever.

“Did you rest well, Princess?” Denholm’s mocking tone drew Trace’s attention, briefly.

“I beg your pardon?” Princess Sapphira snapped, and Trace laughed out loud.

“That’s how he’s been talking to me,” The Dreamwalker stood and stretched. “Calls me ‘Princess’ because he thinks it’ll annoy me. I’m sure he didn’t think you’d show up to order his beheading… again. This time it’ll take.”

“If you’re quite finished planning my eventual demise,” Denholm’s tone turned dark, “Perhaps you’ll take over your infernal duties so that I can take my turn at some well-earned rest for keeping all you ungrateful mongrels alive?”

“Sure, take a nap. We’ll definitely make sure nothing happens to you while you’re asleep,” Trace eyed the man sharply.

Denholm had little choice, and he knew it. He had to sleep eventually, and he was far outnumbered. Trace almost felt sorry for him, to be so powerless and yet so needed.

“If you murder me in my sleep, at least do it quickly,” He grumbled. “No need to prolong my agony for your perverted delight.”

“I think you have us mixed up with yourself,” Anaisa raised an eyebrow. “Your death will be justice, not delight.”

Trace bit back a remark about what a delight it would be to never see Denholm’s face again. However, there was a strange sort of tenuous trust built between the two after so long being the only humans. Trace still hated him of course, but survival tended to knit people together in odd ways.

“Liar,” Denholm muttered loudly enough for them to hear, but he kicked at a section of comforter to fluff it up, and laid down without another word or seemingly a concern in the world, passing swiftly to sleep.