Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 88

Chapter 88: You break my world
Trace hesitated. Anaisa clearly knew this was a dream, but seemed to still fail to realize that he wasn’t part of it.

Well, he was part of it. In fact, all of this was his dream. But the fact remained that she was under the impression that he wouldn’t have any memory of it when they woke up.

Would she be acting differently if she knew that he would remember every detail of this for the rest of his days?

His efforts to convince her fell flat, and his concern when she seemed to be in pain overrode his intention to tell her what he was. What he could do. To apologize for doing it before, and to ask her forgiveness.

When she teased him, her eyes sparkled, reflecting the light of the rising sun. When she asked him for distraction, he caught her meaning and kissed her, gently.

But she hadn’t been content with that. She’d goaded him, pulled him closer, and broken his world apart. As she pressed against him, he could feel the edges crumbling. The fading stars shattered in the sky, drifting down in shards like luminescent snowflakes.

His cliffs tumbled into the sea, and the earth quaked and shuddered.

The mountain under them destabilized, and Trace began to panic. His dream world had always been stable. There was never any question of its breaking or wavering.

Trace pulled back from the kiss, though it almost hurt physically to withdraw.

“No, don’t leave me alone,” Anaisa’s voice was heartbreaking.

“The dream is breaking, I need to concentrate,” He told her breathlessly. Had she altered his mind so thoroughly with her kisses that his imagined world lost its ability to hold together?

She twisted her fingers into his hair, pulling his head down and crashing through his self control. She tilted her chin up and kissed him again. Consumed with the softness and warmth of his wife, he decided he didn’t care.

Let the world shatter, as long as he was holding Anaisa when it did.

Great cracks grew across the continent, and the mountain beneath their feet rumbled again. Trace desperately tried to hold it together a little longer, realizing that the end of his world would mean the end of the dream, and the end of this kiss.

As the ground finally gave way, he began to fall, and gasping, Trace sat up suddenly on the floor of the princess’s sitting room.

His wife’s eyes popped open wide, and he took her hand.

“Anaisa, are you all right?” He hadn’t meant to wake her so suddenly, but at least now he could better assess how her body was coping with the poison.

She stared at him in silence for several long seconds as her other hand moved. Gently, she touched her fingertips to her lips as her face heated.

“I had the strangest dream,” She murmured.

“I know, I was there,” Trace’s brow furrowed as he waited for her to absorb that information.

“You… you were there. But, you know?” Her face went white. “How can you know?”

“I was there,” He repeated. “Me. The real me. I was there. Your dreams were awful, so I took you to mine instead.”

“Then that was…” Anaisa paused. “That was all real? That was all you?”

He nodded, and her eyes widened. She sat up on the sofa with a groan, and he tried to help her, but she flinched away. He grimaced and waited as her mind worked through the implications of his admission.

“You told the princess not to believe her dreams.” She whispered suddenly. “That was because you can manipulate them… Manipulate people.”

“That’s not–” He began, “I don’t want to do that to you.”

“But you can.” His wife scooted away from him, and his heart cracked. “How long? How many dreams of mine?”

Trace swallowed.

“All of them, since we met?” She challenged. “Have you been manipulating me so long?”

“I didn’t want you to have nightmares–” His explanation fell flat. “I… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I never meant to–”

“And now you’re manipulating the princess as well,” She guessed, cutting him off. “Did you write the letters yourself? So I wouldn’t suspect you?”

“What??” He jumped to his feet, “How could you think that? The letters–”

But the moment he tried to explain the plot, his voice choked off. Like a pressure inside his soul prevented him from speaking. He tried again, and no sound came.

“I can’t tell you about any of that,” He recalled the words that Sanders had used; the best answer he could give her.

“Of course not.” Her eyes filled with hot tears. “Of course you would wait until I admitted all of my secrets, every one of them, to you, before telling me you won’t ever trust me with yours.”

Swinging her legs off the edge of the sofa, Anaisa tried to stand, but her legs wobbled under her. Trace caught her in his arms, and she tried feebly to push him away. He helped lower her into a sitting position instead.

“There’s a lot I can’t tell you, but it’s not because I don’t want to. I can’t.” He desperately tried to get her to listen. “I never wanted to manipulate you. I care about you more than anyone I’ve ever known. Please understand me.”

He pled with his eyes, since his words were uncooperative. He wanted to tell her everything. Absolutely everything, and yet the Count’s magic tied his tongue and kept his will away from him. He couldn’t even tell her he was under an enchantment.

It was killing him inside, watching the betrayal in Anaisa’s gaze. She’d already been betrayed so much, and he couldn’t even tell her. The Count’s words echoed in his mind. He couldn’t even try to tell Anaisa, couldn’t attempt to lead her to the truth.

“Leave me alone,” She said weakly.

“I can’t. Please.” He begged.

“Then hand me that pot,” Anaisa whispered, her face turning green. Trace snatched it and brought it up just as she began vomiting into it.