They were staring at us, too.
“They’re staring,” I hissed. “Why are they staring?”
Unbothered, the Bringer leaned back into his seat. “Because I gave them something to stare at.”
“Right. Well, they look like they want to eat us.” I mimicked his posture and leaned into the silk. If he wasn’t concerned, then maybe I didn’t need to be, either. “If they attack, I hope you’re as confident mounting a defense as you are in your shipbuilding. It’ll be you versus a few hundred.”
“Just me? You have a maddening habit of wielding the shadows,too,” he murmured, clinking the tips of his armored fingers together. “You should be perfectly capable of defending yourself. Me versus half of them, by my count.”
“Fine,” I agreed with a grin, shivering with delight when the shadows rose to my call, pooling around our feet and dancing across our limbs. Then there was my sword, thrumming reassuringly under my palm. “Me versus half.”
Once our ship slid to a stop in front of Evernight, I fully expected the crowd to storm us. But as we stepped off the ship, their eyes drifted elsewhere. As if the ship had never existed at all.
As ifwehad never existed at all.
“My ship wasn’t a part of the original dream, so it can’t be remembered for long,” the Bringer explained, making his way to Evernight’s main entrance. There were three passages cut into the citadel’s mountainside: The left went down, the right went up, and the middle went straight. So far, none of the dreamers had approached the middle; masked gatekeepers, clothed in black with silver insignias on their chests, directed the dreamers left and right. “And even if they acknowledge us, our impression will be fleeting. We’ll neither be truly seen nor fully remembered for long, no matter how memorable one might be.” He said the last part coyly, clearly meaningme.
Face burning, I noted the crowd’s excitement. They were radiant, beaming and chattering as if they were about to experience the most glorious event in all their lives. Still, I questioned whether they truly couldn’t see us. Some looked as though they were purposefullyavoidingeye contact with us.
“Think of this night as a frozen memory,” the Bringer continued, failing to notice the dreamers who had quietly begun to watch him. They whispered as we passed, glancing at him from the corners of their eyes. Some looked on in admiration, others in outright fear. “We can do whatever we wish within it.”
“His hair and his helm, what do you suppose…,” one anonymous voice said audibly.
“Perhaps it is the theme,” said another.
“But that look in his eyes. Don’t you think…,” the first went on.
Others looked at me, too. Not so much in awe or fear, but jealousy. Anger, even.
“No one has ever seen her here before,” a third voice hissed.
“A new scholar, perhaps,” another wondered.
“He would never…,” a fourth voice gasped.
“Evernight is permanently housed within the Realm, so there is never a primary dreamer,” the Bringer continued, oblivious. As we passed through the crowd, some of the bolder ones reached out to feel the edge of his cloak. “No singular Weaver in control, either.”
I swatted at a man’s too-eager hand. “Um, Bringer…”
“Lord Erebus,” announced a gatekeeper, stepping in front of us and sweeping into a bow. He adjusted his collar as he rose, fixing me with a curious once-over. A silver mask covered most of his face, framing the top of his mustache. “You may pass, of course, but the Seven have decreed specific attire for the dreamers.”
The Shadow Bringer stared at the gatekeeper as if he had grown a second head. As if growing a second head would be more likely than him actuallyseeingus and, consequently,talkingto us as though we were regular dreamers and not the Shadow Bringer and his companion from five hundred years in the future.
“I must also take the name of your… partner,” the gatekeeper stammered, flustered by the Bringer’s silence. “She is not listed on the register—we did not know you would be bringing a guest—but I will, of course, make all suitable arrangements. How nice it is that you brought…”
“She is—” the Shadow Bringer began.
“My name is Esmer,” I interrupted. I tried to look as pleasant as possible, even as my name echoed in the crowd.Esmer. Esmer. Esmer.By the fourthEsmer, my name was written on a scroll that appeared from thin air. “What attire is appropriate?”
The gatekeeper straightened. “It is the Revel of Rebirth, my lady.Weaver Lelantos has prepared the appropriate specifications to honor the occasion.” He pointed at the left passageway. “Evernight scholars will attire you within.”
“Thank you,” I said, feigning nonchalance. As if I knew exactly what he was talking about.
I gave the Bringer a pointed look.Frozen memorythis definitely wasnot. It all felt strange, wrong. As though we were intruding on a life already lived. Was it possible that the Bringer did something to skew the dream? He ran a finger along the armor at his neck, fidgeting with one of its points. I had never seen himfidgetbefore.
The Bringer noticed me looking at him. Shadows spun slowly within his irises as he unhooked his hand from his neck.
“Have a glorious Revel, my lord,” said the gatekeeper, bowing again to the Shadow Bringer. He gave a third bow, this time to me. “As may you, Esmer.”
