“Like slip into their minds?”
“Yes, you can slip into the memories, desires, or dreams of others with intention.” Peisinoe blew out a heavy breath.
“Is that how you saw Edward’s mind?”
The Siren queen nodded. “But remember, this process is sacred and must not be undertaken lightly. Using your dream magic will leave you exhausted—mind, body, and soul—and you must always remember to call upon the goddess herself and offer your thanks afterward.”
“What will we do today?” I asked, dipping my finger into the crystalline pool beside me, where the liquid curled around it.
Peisinoe plucked my hand away. “We won’t be using the pools today. Instead, I’ll show you how to access a memory. We’ll perform the ceremony, and I will gift you one of mine.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and nodded.
“First, you must make a blood vow.” She took my hand, drawing a knife from a chest beside one of the pools and slicing a clean line across my palm.
I winced as crimson spilled from the cut.
Peisinoe dragged the blade across her own palm. “A blood vow cannotbe broken, and you must ask the dreamer to make one to ensure the memory is uncorrupted and true.”
She pressed her bleeding wound to mine, and a finely hewn tattoo appeared on the backs of our hands—a small heart.
I gasped, pulling my hand back.
Peisinoe smiled. “It will fade once I have given you my true memory and the blood oath is fulfilled.”
With that, she pressed her bleeding palm to her mind, and a faint light radiated from it. “I’m going to place my palms on your temples. Keep your gaze locked with mine.”
I nodded, and she knelt beside me, her scaled legs gleaming as she placed her hands gently on either side of my head.
“Now, you must call upon Agápe, asking her blessing to use the sacred art of dream weaving to access my memory, freely given.”
“Please, Agápe.” My voice wavered, and Peisinoe nodded in encouragement, her hands still on my temples. “Please allow me to access the memory Peisinoe wants to give me.”
“Good. Now close your eyes,” the queen purred.
I closed my eyes, and no sooner had I done so than a vision swam before them. A memory. Peisinoe’s memory.
King Proteus, younger, smiled at her from across an opulent ballroom—somewhere in Thálassa, judging by the architecture. Merfolk danced and drank, a blur of scales and colors swirling through the room, but Peisinoe saw only the purple-haired man drifting before her.
The memory faded, the temple and Peisinoe, still kneeling before me, swimming back into view.
“And that was the first time I saw my husband.” She smiled sadly, and my heart clenched as I thought of the veins on Proteus’s neck, which had darkened in the short time we’d been here.
I thrust my hand to my eyeline and gasped. “The tattoo has gone.”
She nodded. “Our bargain of ink and blood has been fulfilled because the memory I showed you was true.”
My eyelids drooped, and I raised a hand to my temple. “I’m so tired.”
“Yes,” Peisinoe breathed. “You will have exhausted yourself.”
Good. I wanted the magic to drain me, to tear through every aching part of me until I was so spent that, when I returned to my room alone, I would collapse into bed. No thoughts, no dreams, no feelings at all.
Peisinoe’s eyes held the weight of understanding as she looked at me. “One of my priestesses will take you back to your room. But first, we must offer thanks to Agápe.”
“H-how do we do that?” I stammered.
She took my hands in hers and met my eyes. “Thank you, Agápe, for granting us a dream.”
