Abigail looked down at herself to see she was wearing her usual brown dress and white apron. “I thought I should stop playing dress-up,” she said with a laugh.
So Conrad had been in this dream world the whole time. She needed to tell Roan. Where had that man disappeared to?
“If you’ll excuse me a moment,” she said, turning around and hurrying toward Roan’s office.
But before she could knock on the door, it opened and he strode out, colliding with her at full speed.
Before she could fall, his arms came around her and pulled her close, holding her up while she regained her balance.
“Missed me that much?” he asked, before the light in his eyes faded. He let go of her and took a step back, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry. What did you need?”
Abigail wanted to tell him not to be sorry—that she felt safer in his arms than anywhere else, and maybe she could trip again, and he’d catch her a second time.
But she didn’t dare.
“Conrad has been awake in this dream world since the curse began,” she said quickly, before she could dosomething so silly as that. “He thinks it’s been one day and I simply went and changed my dress.”
Roan looked down at her dress, then his eyes flipped back up to her face.
“So this is a dream world,” he said, “and you and I are here in our sleep.”
“Yes,” she said, “but not in the daytime.”
“Do you think if we feed them in this dream world, it would make a difference?”
Abigail shrugged. “I don’t know, but it certainly doesn’t hurt to try.” She took a step away from him before she did something like fling herself at him to feel his arms around her again. “I’m going to the kitchen, and I’m going to take a can from the pantry, and in the morning, we can see if it’s still there.”
“I don’t know if that’s how it works, but it’s worth a shot,” he said with a nod. “This magic is strange.”
Abigail didn’t know either, but the magic required to weave a spell like this was far greater than any she’d been exposed to before.
It wasn’t even taught to those who had access to dragon eggs.
“It’s a dark magic,” she said quietly, the words tangling in her throat.
Roan stared at her, a flicker of fear in his eyes before they became hard once more. “After we feed them, you and I need to talk about how you know that this is dark magic.”
He lowered his voice and asked, “If you don’t mind?”
The words were stuck in Abigail’s throat. As much as she wanted to tell Roan, she didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t want him to know where she’d come from, and how she had been raised. But Roan wouldn’t hurt her—she knew that—and he deserved to know.
“Later,” she promised, before turning on her heel and hurrying to the kitchen.
She had soup to prepare.
“Come on, Abigail,” Tanner said, rolling his eyes as she stood over him, her wooden spoon in hand. “I’m not hungry.”
“I don’t care,” she said sweetly. “It’s a new recipe. I need everyone to try it, to tell me whether they like it or not.”
And if she had enhanced the soup slightly to make it irresistible to eat—well, that was no one’s business but hers.
And maybe Roan’s.
But what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and if they already had to discuss magic later, adding one more thing to confess wouldn’t make a difference.
“Or maybe I’ll just never feed you again.” She let the words trail off in a sickly-sweet threat.
“Oh no,” the boy said, his eyes wide as he picked up the spoon and took his first bite. “I’ll try it.”
