Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 85

Chapter 85: Royal visit
The king visited the princess’s chambers with a grave expression. He looked with some relief at his daughter, who was still tearfully staring at Anaisa lying on the sofa.

Trace hadn’t liked the spoiled princess before, but her genuine concern for his wife went a long way in endearing her to him.

“What happened?” King Harold demanded of the doctor.

“I gather she was poisoned,” The doctor held out a dish of special treats, which had been tested with a silver needle in the man’s possession and found to contain the poison.

“What else can be done?” The king looked down at the sofa, not reacting.

“Nothing for now. If you will excuse me, I will go mix more of the detoxifying drink for when she awakens.” The doctor bowed deeply and the king nodded, dismissing the old man.

“Are there no magical doctors?” Trace frowned at the monarch.

“He is one. The only one. No one makes better medicine than he does,” Sapphira defended the doctor, but the king lifted his hand and turned to his daughter.

“You were with her the whole time?” He asked.

“Yes,” She confirmed softly.

“Are you absolutely certain she didn’t do this to herself?” The king probed. “After what she learned this morning, there are those who would not hesitate to end their own lives.”

Trace froze. Part of him wanted to bolt to his feet, defend Anaisa’s bravery and integrity, and demand to know what might be so terrible that the king thought she would end herself this way. The wiser part of him knew that he was more likely to glean information by remaining quiet.

“She didn’t, Father,” Sapphira stubbornly insisted. “She cried, for a long time, and right before we left, Stepmother offered her a treat to eat to help her feel better, from her personal tray.”

“Then…” The king paused, rage and terror warring across his face.

“Then unless you think the queen has reason to poison a servant…” Trace began, but the king was already out the door.

“Someone was trying to poison the queen.” Sapphira shook her head. “He’ll go check on her now, but she’ll be all right.”

“Will she?” Trace looked at her in surprise.

“Of course. She protects Father, mentally, as you learned this morning, but she can also protect herself, physically. Whoever tried to poison her must not have known she has resistance to such things.” Sapphira shrugged, and hesitated. “I… I don’t know about the baby, though.”

The pair waited in silence for a moment as Trace looked down at Anaisa again. She was pale.

“I’m sure the doctor will have her right as rain very soon,” Sapphira offered. “I… do you want me to sit with her? Or do you want me to go?”

Trace turned tortured eyes toward the princess.

“I’m not going to leave her.”

It was a risk making his feelings so plain. He should be standing guard at the door, or stoically observing all of this, but he couldn’t manage to keep himself in check just now. His acting wasn’t good enough to pretend indifference while Anaisa lay suffering and unconscious nearby.

“I’ll go, then.” Sapphira slipped off to her room.

The man lowered himself to the floor near Anaisa, the terror of watching her collapse still fresh in his heart.

She remained unconscious, whimpering softly now and then from the pain of the poison lingering in her body. He grimaced, taking her hand and laying his forehead on the edge of the sofa.

With a deep breath, he pushed his heart rate lower, pulled his mind to as calm a place as he could manage. Deepened his breathing, relaxed his muscles. It was incredibly difficult to try and fall asleep midmorning, but he was determined. If he could throw himself voluntarily out of a dream and into wakefulness, surely he would be able to push himself into sleep.

A minute passed. Two minutes. He breathed deeper, slower, pressing against the barrier of wakefulness that kept him from his dream world.

The second he opened his eyes to the familiar sky, he was off like an arrow, past the edge of his own mind and to the nearest shining orb in the void.

He hesitated only slightly at the edge before pressing in.

The nightmare was grotesque and terrifying.

Black, oozing acid flooded around his shins, reaching living tendrils up to climb his legs with sharp little claws. He could hear screaming in the distance.

He tried to banish the ooze, but it clung to him, and stayed inside the dream. He gritted his teeth against the pain it caused him.

Dreams based on real-world physical sensations were nearly impossible to overcome. He’d learned that in the war, trying to give pleasant dreams to his injured and dying comrades in arms.

He had nearly always failed.

But he couldn’t let Anaisa suffer alone.

Slogging through the sludge and trying to remove the barbed points digging into his clothes, he made his way towards the screaming. Towards the dreamer. Towards his wife.

It took him far too long to find her, struggling and drowning in the burning tar. Fear gripped him, tore at him excruciatingly. Her mind was in such agony that it hacked away at his own, simply for his presence in the dream.

Anaisa’s eyes were wild with terror. She thrashed and kicked, but was being pulled under. Trace dove towards her, grabbing her hand and pulling as hard as he could to lift her up from the mire.

“Help,” She rasped, and he grunted. As much as the dream was hurting him, she’d been in it longer. A desperate idea broke into his mind and he threw his arms around her.

“Hold onto me,” He told her. Anaisa’s arms clasped desperately around his neck as he picked her up. She clung to him as she cried out. Another surge of the sludge threatened to knock him off his feet and drown them both. Closing his eyes, Trace concentrated. He pulled with his mind, and moved steadily with his steps towards the edge of the dream.

As he came to the border, he pulled her more tightly against his chest, and stepped out into the void.