My lip curls up into a snarl as she reaches the carriage, drops her shoulders, and turns back to stare at the dwelling. I’m nearly tempted to step out of the shadows and allow her to see me. Instead, I listen to her chilling words.
“Thank you, Neve,” she says, not an ounce of sincerity in her voice. “Finally, you’re of some use to me. Until next time, my child.”
I keep my gaze on the carriage until the Snow Queen is well down the hill, using her magic to keep the snow horses and wheels from struggling against the rough terrain. Once we’re alone, I sigh, turning to head back to the bed.
The Queen sleeps on, unaware of her mother’s misgivings. With a shake of my head, I draw out the needle I took from Dima’s caves, along with the spellbook and the little bundle Legs gave me to wake the Queen.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Your Majesty," I say, studying the calmness of her face that I’m about to ruin. “I’m only one hundred years late.”
Chapter 7 Neve
Something changed within me the moment I spoke to Sandman. An outsider here in my dreams? Perhaps his control over dreams themselves allowed him in, but for however long I’ve been asleep, I’ve never had a visitor except for my mother’s voice.
The Sandman said years, but that can’t be true. Maybe something did happen after all with the King of Diamonds, but my mother is in a frail state from her curse. She should want to awaken me to use me to her advantage, not keep me here. If she has some way to wake me from this frozen sleep, she should do so quickly. I can’t fathom why she wouldn't.
After my father's passing, before the funeral, I remember that the King of Diamonds, King Jasper, wanted to speak to us through the large stone we used to speak to other kingdoms. I know I’ve slept for more than a day, so surely, if anything came of that request Mother took care of it.
Kicking the powder, I glare out at the endless snow. I haven’t gone back to the fake castle, instead choosing to wallow in my anger and confusion here in the trees. Here, as strange as it is, I’m free. No one has expectations of a queen in her own dreams.
My thoughts drift back to Ban the longer I’m here, letting my anger and despair focus on the man who changed the course of my life. I would still be queen if not for him; my fatherwouldn’t have suffered a fatal blow, and I would still have his guiding hand as I learn what to do next.
I glare out at the mountains while trying to decide my next move. Memories only betray me with pain, and without my mother's voice, there’s no one to talk to. I’ve tried calling out to the Sandman many times, but he isn’t answering.
No one is.
“I’ll go there,” I say, talking to myself. It’s probably not a good habit, but I’ve been doing this for a long time. For as long as I’ve been asleep at least. “Even if I can’t escape the dream, I can control it. Maybe I can imagine a fake Ban and come up with a plan to kill him.”
As I take off through the snow, the thought makes my heart tighten. I’m not a killer. That was never part of the plan when I agreed to take the crown. But my father wasn’t supposed to die the night I ascended the throne, either.
There’s only one person whom I want to end, and he signed his name so I would know exactly who he is.
Forcing the thoughts out of my head, I will my mind to empty and let me run free. I’ve done this too many times to count since the dreaming started, but I’ve rarely bothered with the mountains. There were only a few places I truly had to go in the snowy hills, and the North Mountain itself was a beast to brave.
I haven’t thought about climbing mountains in years, even before my coronation. As the wind whips past me, an imagined chill sending a shiver up my spine, a thrill shoots through me for the first time in a long time.
Sandman, Ban, all of them. They can go to hell. I’m going to run into the snowy mountains until I run out of imagination. With any luck, this dreamscape will come to an end.
Time bleeds together, and I run over snowy passes and use my magic on the fake snow and ice as though buildingmy own bridge. All these pathways come from somewhere in my memory, but some of them are more familiar than others. I remember often, when I pushed against the limits of what I could do, that my recollection would get a little blurry.
It doesn’t matter though. Here, I’m invincible.
As I run up the hills, my mind clears. It’s not going to offer an escape but at least running like this makes me feel a little less trapped. I continue taking the paths as they form in my head, memory and imagination blending together to guide me on.
My steps falter, the whirlwind of snow circling around me, calming me as a sudden stabbing in my hand makes me stumble. It’s like a phantom touch, the ghost of remembrance threatening to overwhelm me. I’ve felt a throb in my finger more times than I can count, but nothing as acutely sharp as this.
Glaring up toward the white sky, I prepare to scream into the unknown again.
And then I feel my real eyes fluttering.
Surprise rolls through me, and the space all around me in the mountains begins to fade. This endless dreamscape cracks around the edges, the imagined land blurring together as I spin around.
My hands twitch. My real hands, flexing against the pain shooting through my finger. I gasp, feeling as though the ground is torn out from under me.
Blinking, I stare up at a dark sky. No, not the sky, aceiling.
And someone’s stabbing me in the finger.
As I whip my head to one side, the past stares back at me. For one single moment, all I can do is catch my breath, forgetting to survey my surroundings.
