A monster.
“What happened?” Her voice is small, her hand on the nape of my neck cool, gentle, familiar. I open my mouth. I have to tell her what I saw, what she’ll experience once she goes to sleep, but my lips tremble, my throat seizes. I can’t hide.
I can still feel the blood from my dream sticking to my skin and then spreading, sullying her as well.
“I’ll write it down,” I whisper. I stare at the blank page, then at what I wrote the previous night. The pen nearly slips from my finger as I try to find the words that will save me. Maybe Aliz’s dream won’t change. Maybe she’ll still be in the maze.
My eyes sting, and I copy what I wrote the previous night.
The map isalmost complete. Just one hallway left, with a question mark in the middle, and a hexagon hiding what I hope is Ada Astra’s library.
Aliz and I experienced different illusions when we tried to cross the final hallway. I drowned, while she was consumed by sunlight. I heard a voice. She didn’t. There must be a way through. I search for answers in Tynahine’s most eclectic library, the Palau Collection. I wonder if the alchemist from which it borrowed its name is still alive. Maybe she’d have a few ideas on how to get through.
But as soon as I sit down with a book, my mind drifts towards something I can’t ignore.
Has Aliz dreamt yet?
Has she seen my true colours?
Aliz is always there for me. But now I’m hiding in a library because I can’t bear it. I chew on my lip till it bleeds, till my eyes sting. My head hurts, and I finally give up, running back to Tynarrich as my skin itches and burns.
I slot my key through the lock, expecting the worst. Aliz, knowing what I am, hating me the way any sensible vampire would.
And when I step in, when she turns to stare at me, I think it’s all over. Her face is pale. Eyes red.
I can explain,I try to say. But I can’t say anything. Aliz rubs her eyes.
“My dream was not the same as yours,” she starts. Her voice trembles. “I don’t—” She looks at her notebook, and her hand shakes as she reaches for it. “But I don’t understand it.”
The room is quiet but for the sound of the wind outside.
“It was more like a memory than a dream,” Aliz whispers. “Something I’d forgotten.” She rubs her head. Her voice is tight. “It was just before my seventeenth birthday. My father had a Council meeting, and someone…” Aliz stares right through me, as though she’s still stuck in her dream. “Someone locked me in my room with no blood supply.”
She touches her throat.
“And what happened next?” I ask. Aliz shakes her head.
“I woke up,” she says. “With the feeling that something terrible was about to happen.”
I should be relieved that we didn’t share the same dream. But instead all I feel is the need to ease her fear. “It was just a dream,” I say. I drop my bag next to my bed, and just like I did when I woke from my own nightmare, I get too close to her. I thread my fingers through her hair, some of it damp with sweat, and draw her close. She wraps her arms around my back, resting her head on my chest. She sighs and then looks up atme.
“It’s suspicious,” she whispers. Her hand plays with the fabric of my jumper, while her cheek rests against my left breast.
“What is?”
“You being so nice to me.”
I frown at her, my glasses slipping down to my nose. “I’m always nice,” I say. She looks away, sinking into me. She sighs again, but she doesn’t sound as scared as she did moments ago. “But I don’t like what’s happening,” I whisper, running my fingers through her hair. “Our dreams are no longer connected.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” she asks.
“It just means things are getting more unpredictable,” I say. “And I have a feeling they’re only going to get worse.”
Neither of us says anything after that. Aliz doesn’t move her arms and instead holds me tight against her. So I stay as I am, too, trying to convince myself for the millionth time that I need this proximity only to appease the mark—and not to satisfy something far deeper insideme.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
