Sleep shifts his upper body in a gesture reminiscent of a shrug. “Then I require payment for the plants you stole.”
Boreas goes deathly still beside me.
“How much?” I croak. I haven’t any coin.
A lick of laughter, raspy and full, sends a strange current through my body. “I’m not interested in your coin. I’m interested in your dreams.”
I blink at the god stupidly. My dreams?
“You overstep,” Boreas cuts in.
“Do I? Do you know how long it takes to grow one poppy flower? Seven years. She picked six flowers for a combined loss of forty-two growing years. I believe a dream, something she will no longer remember, is a fair price.”
Technically, I only picked three poppies. But Thyamine picked three as well.
“What use have you for dreams?” Boreas demands. “The dream world is not your realm. That is the Dream Weaver’s domain.”
I hear the smile in Sleep’s voice when he replies, “I have respected the boundaries we established long ago. Until now, I have not stepped foot beyond your high stone wall. I have not taken anything from your possession. That your wife was not aware of our arrangement is due to your lack of foresight, not mine. She has overstepped, and I expect recompense for that which has been lost.”
There is a pause. I’m convinced Boreas will strike his cousin down, if his snarl is any indication. “What of my brother and his punishment? He was involved with stealing the poppies as well.”
“I will deal with the West Wind, in time.”
“Let Sleep take one of my dreams,” I say to Boreas. “I don’t care.”
“No.”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because while the Dream Weaver governs the realm of dreams, he has no control over what occurs in the individual mind.” Boreas stares at his cousin in disgust. “In gifting him a dream, you grant him access to your thoughts, the inner machinations of your conscience. The Dream Weaver’s influence may bleed into your beliefs and opinions, potentially your actions. Who will you be if those do not belong to you?”
I’m suddenly grateful Boreas stepped in before I could be taken advantage of.
“While that is true,” Sleep inputs, “it does not discount the fact that I need something of equal value to the plants I lost.”
A cool, calculating study from the king. “You owe a debt to the Dream Weaver, is that it? Take one of mine, then, and give it to your son. Let this issue be resolved.”
The darkness throbs, and Sleep comes into sharper focus. There is a chin, firm and angled, and a bulbous nose. “You are serious?”
“You don’t have to do that,” I protest, grabbing Boreas’ arm. “It’s my punishment. Let me bear it.”
“And you are mine to protect, so let me shield you from this.”
My mouth parts, yet the sound travels no farther than my cinched throat. “Even if it’s my fault?”
He brushes my chin with his thumb. “Even then.”
He’s descending the stairs before I realize he’s gone. He meets Sleep halfway across the parlor as I remain standing atop the dais, nerves creeping through me, and guilt, the animal that dogs my heels, that always manages to scent me out.
Had I not accompanied Zephyrus to Sleep’s cave, the king wouldn’t be in this predicament. Boreas, my husband, who absorbs the blows meant for me. A twinge in my chest draws forth a fresh wave of remorse. No one has ever gone to such lengths to protect me before. He remains blind, deceived, for the why, too, is important. Boreas cannot know I entered Sleep’s cave to steal the poppies, intending to end his immortal life.
Two blurred hands lift and come to rest against the king’s temples. It takes no longer than a few moments before Sleep steps back.
“Now get out,” Boreas snaps.
With the god’s departure, the specters awaken, sitting up and peering around the room in confusion. Boreas returns to his throne, a muscle pulsing in his jaw. I perch on the edge of my seat warily. “Will the Dream Weaver control your dreams now?”
“The Dream Weaver,” he murmurs, “is not privy to the dreams of the divine. Thus, his power does not affect us to the same extent as it does mortals. A dream of mine is a boon to him, but no, he will not be able to infiltrate my dreams or thoughts. He has a single dream, the power of which may be extracted for use in his realm. I care not.”
