Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 75

Some limited admissions
“You’re suffering,” Trace gulped. Inwardly, he knew Anaisa must be referring to being out on the streets. From her dream the night before, he was piecing together that she must have been rather wealthy, or at least her father had been.

He shouldn’t take it as a personal indictment that being married to him was suffering. That she hated him and considered every moment with him to be painful. She’d been too happy to have him in her dream for him to believe that.

And yet, the doubt wriggled its way into his mind.

“Will you help me?” She pled.

He wanted to ask why. Ask what taking that man down for her would accomplish, but there would be obvious benefits even without Anaisa’s desire in the equation.

Freedom for himself, and her, and Katia from the schemes of his blackmailer.

“Do you know any of the other Counts? Are any of them trustworthy and could help us?” He asked, not consenting or rejecting her plea.

Anaisa hesitated. “I don’t know a trustworthy one.”

His face fell.

“I don’t like what I’m being made to do,” He told her suddenly. “I didn’t–don’t want to do it.”

Having that fact out in the open between them was both a relief and a terrible truth.

“Have you done it?” She stared at him carefully, and, almost imperceptibly, she leaned away from him.

His heart broke. She didn’t want to be near someone who aided evil, and he couldn’t blame her for it.

“No, not completely.” He equivocated. “It’s a process. But I must finish it before the ball.”

“How… how bad will it be? If you finish this task?” Anaisa seemed to force out the question.

“I don’t know.” His eyes went wide. Was he helping hand over the princess’s heart to an evil man? And the kingdom as well? “How bad is Barnabas?”

“The most evil man I’ve ever known,” Anaisa looked down. “He would see his own family murdered to get what he wanted.”

“Then we have to find a way to stop him,” Trace’s determination grew.

“What if you just… didn’t do it? Whatever it is you’re meant to do?” She suggested.

“Then he would know, and it would put us, my family, and your sister in danger,” He warned.

Looking down, they both fell silent for a moment before she spoke again.

“Is there a way to comply without success?”

“What?” He blinked at her.

“Can you technically perform whatever specific task you’ve been given, but fail to succeed at accomplishing his purpose?” Anaisa chewed on her lip.

He blinked. Sanders could see everything he did while he used his magic, and while the blackmailer had demonstrated ways of finding out things that happened in the waking world, that reach could not be absolute. How would Trace keep the dreams he planted from succeeding in softening the princess and the king towards the man in yellow and green?

“You must convince the princess not to trust whatever dreams she has,” He suddenly told Anaisa. Sapphira confided in her, and might listen to her advice. The king, Trace would have to figure out how to warn on his own…

“What?” Anaisa pulled his mind back to the present. “Not trust her dreams? What does that mean?”

“That I–” He was cut off when the princess’s door flew open, and the young woman came out fairly dancing on a cloud.

“Good Morning!” She piped cheerfully, startling Anaisa, but driving Trace deeper into his foul mood. Sapphira must be extremely susceptible to manipulation, he hadn’t tried very hard at all to make the stranger appealing to her.

“You seem in a good mood this morning,” Anaisa smiled at her kindly, but shot Trace a questioning glance.

“Annie, I had the most beautiful dream,” The young woman gushed. Trace’s stomach turned, and he looked away, unable to bear the happiness on her face.

“Oh?” Anaisa asked.

“I dreamed about a man! Oh, he was wonderful.” The princess smiled widely.

“That’s lovely, but we should focus on reality. Dreams can be deceptive,” The maid said stoically, and relief flooded through Trace that she was doing as he asked, even without the opportunity to question him about it.

His wife trusted him. Despite confessing that he was doing something he didn’t want to. Something evil. She still trusted him.

“What do you mean? Oh, Annie, We danced and danced! We met at my ball, and he was perfect in every way!”

“At your ball?” Anaisa cut in, and Trace stood.

“This seems like a personal discussion,” He smiled tightly. “I will step outside and wait for breakfast to be delivered.”

He couldn’t stand to hear the dream repeated. The lies. The lies he’d planted. He’d poisoned her mind, and it ate at him. How could he have known that she would take them so easily as truth?

Over his shoulder as he turned to shut the door, he sent Anaisa a pleading look. She wore an expression of concern, and nodded slightly, once.

He would have to trust her to try and fix the damage he’d done.

If he were allowed to leave, he would go find Sanders and demand more information. He would just have to find such an opportunity at some point. Some time away from his post would have to happen sooner or later, wouldn’t it? Surely he couldn’t be expected to stay every minute at her side for the foreseeable future.

He wanted–needed–to investigate more about Barnabas. But how to begin? He didn’t even know what the man looked like or how to pick him out of the Lords’ Advisory, and asking questions from anyone other than Anaisa might rouse suspicion and tip his blackmailer off that he was onto him.

He sighed as the servant with the breakfast tray came up the stairs with the delivery, and hoped against hope that the discussion of the dream wouldn’t continue over the course of the meal.

If it did, he might find he had no appetite at all.