“Nikoleta, in fact, had fallen in love with him while she was a ghost, made a bargain with the ruler of the afterlife to—” He stopped speaking as a book flew into his forehead and then dropped on the floor. “Ouch.”
“You fool! I hate spoilers.” I glared at him with an accusing finger pointed, then got to my feet and retrieved the book, glad to see it was undamaged, unlike his forehead that was probably pulsing from the hit.
Eros reached and touched the spot, surprising me with a smile. “For what reason did you hit me? And I would highly appreciate it if you could clarify what a spoiler is.”
I flicked the book open, looking for the chapter I had left unfinished. “A spoiler is when someone tells you what happens in a book before you’ve read it and it spoils the shock or excitement. So, thank you very much, I’ll act as if I didn’t hear you.”
We settled again into a comfortable silence, Eros’s laughter diminishing as we both continued our books. Despite the unsolicited spoiler, I found myself smiling.
Later, Eros noticed my struggles to hold the book open. “Crack the spine.”
“No.”
“Give it a try, if you may.”
“No,” I pressed, reading the same row two times.
“I will not take offense if you do.”
“I know, butIwill.”
At last, Eros relented, but I noticed the damage he’d inflicted on my book’s spine as a playful smile rose on his lips.
The door disappeared, and I found myself across the room, looking down at the village and the houses that seemed to shrink into minuscule specks from my vantage point.
I began counting the tall windows that surrounded me, resembling a glass house and stopped when I reached fourteen. When I blinked, the unsettling confinement of a glass box replaced the breathtaking panorama I was gazing at.
As I exhaled, the warm air from my lungs clouded the glass in front of me. To my surprise, my palms were met with a heat akin to the sun’s as I pressed them against it. It oddly looked like a . . . coffin.
“You will wake up soon,” a familiar voice said. I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t afraid or panicking. Instead, I listened to the regular beating of my heart, waiting to hear the person speak again. “As soon as you do, write down everything you can remember about this room before it’s too late. Remember Artemis.”
I felt a sense of urgency and noted in my head things to remember. Six things: the glasshouse, the mountain view, the mirror, the old door, glass coffin, and?—
My chest heaved upward, and an involuntary gasp poured out of my mouth as I sat up. Eyes wide, I gulped air into mylungs, oblivious of the drenched sheets underneath me. I blinked through the darkness, too preoccupied trying to preserve my memories to grasp the fact that I had beendreaming.
I had to remember. I had to write everything down. Before it was too late.
When my bare feet hit the floor with a thud, Eros rustled in the bed, murmuring something in his sleep. I paid no heed to him and strode to his mahogany desk, rummaging through it with wobbling hands.
“May I help you?” Eros’s hoarse voice rose above the crashing sounds of his belongings falling on the floor while I hunted for paper and a pen.
“I need to write everything down,” I revealed, tearing through a drawer.
How could a pen be so hard to find? I’d scribble on the walls if I could find something to write with.
I sorted through leather journals, photos, candles, paperclips and old books, letting out a frustrated grunt. Eros walked over, and I watched him open a side drawer I had missed, stacked with blank pages and various writing tools. He handed me the items and eyed me with a squinted stare. I snatched them from his hands and wrote anything I could recall.
Six things.
I paused, the nib hovering over the brown surface. What was the sixth one? There was another one, but I couldn’t pull it from my mind.
“Damn it.” I scowled, throwing the pen and letting it roll down until it fell on the floor. My palms laid on the sides of the desk, fingers gripping until their tips turned white.
“Are you well?”
Atskpushed past my lips. “There was something else.”
Eros’s hands found shelter on my shoulders. “It was merely a dream. Please, return to bed.”
