The body that was not my own sat up straighter, fighting against the weight settling in my chest. “You’re right… He has only ever let me down, and you have always been there to pick up the pieces.”
His face was smug, the image clear enough that I could make out the fine lines around the edges of his eyes and mouth. His hazel eyes glinted in the firelight, cold despite the warm wash of light. He waited, triumphant.
“What would you have me do?” I whispered, the words falling off my lips were petals from a dying bud.
“I have a contact. She believes your mágik could grow to be far stronger than we have ever imagined. We will ensure you are the most powerful queen Acsilla—all of Szrestia—has ever known. I will make sure it is so, but we must keep this between us. Do you understand, Ayla?”
No…Came the barest whisper in the back of my mind—her mind.I don’t understand.
“Of course, Uncle,” Ayla said, a wobbly smile curving her mouth. The words tasted like ash, bitter and untrue.
It was not quite fear that panged through my chest. The feeling was more akin to an untethered ship lurching in the tide, a feeling of not belonging. The edges of the room were going hazy, and as I finally turned my head, I found that I was no longer inhabiting the woman’s body. I sat beside her.
Ayla.
The chestnut haired girl I had met in so many dreams, on so many restless nights. Her expression was tightened in confusion, but she made her agreements quickly and with an unwavering voice, as if she had no other choice.
“I love you, Ayla.” The man leaned closer as he said the words, but I could not focus on anything except for the golden circlet glinting in the firelight.
The image was already swimming—I was already drowning in the loss—but I reached for her hand as if I might take it in my own, and with a final wash of blackness across the dimly colored picture, I was sent back to the realm of dreamless sleep I so craved.
I did not wake to the frozen grass beneath me and a lightening sky above. My limbs lay tangled and sweating in the warmth of my blankets, my stiff mattress only slightly more forgiving than the ground outside. My head still ached to a fierce rhythm, and my stomach turned. But it was not the sickness that clutched at me. It was the fact I could not remember the last time I had dreamt of them without sleepwalking. Likewise, I could not remember the visions ever having been so clear.
These dreams seemed so vivid—real in an inexplicable way—and I could not help but feel as though my connection to these dreamscape characters was growing stronger.
Chapter ten
Seren
My fingers drummed a steady beat against my thigh, muscles quaking with nervous energy. I should have felt excitement or mild interest, at the least, but instead I fought down the feeling that something was terribly wrong.
I was to be promoted to Guardian of the Third Order that evening, along with Lili Barta and a few other Guardians in my cohort. I dreaded the formality. To be paraded across a stage and granted favor by my superiors seemed unnecessary and garish. I wished to be their weapon, not their show pony. There was no doubt that they felt similarly, but the ceremony was, regrettably, unavoidable.
Discomfort continued to swirl in my gut, and I thought, surely, sparring would ease the strain. It must, for I had no other way to release this tension.
I fastened my armor with practiced efficiency and inspected my weapons. I tidied my braids and my bed. It was the last time I would ever sleep in this room, as each order of Guardians dwelled in separate quarters. With a final, lingering glance, I left another piece of myself behind and stepped out into the courtyard.
Duties had been suspended for the day, yet the training grounds remained flooded with bodies. Ceremony days were famousamongst the Guardians due to the rare opportunity they provided to rest and imbibe, but habits were hard broken, and it was not uncommon to find half the cohort sparring, regardless.
My eyes scanned the field, searching for someone to challenge. I spotted Guardian Barta bouncing on her heels—a force of contagious energy—as she practiced her positions.
Lili noticed me and waved enthusiastically. “Seren!”
I turned away.
Lili was the only one of my fellow Guardians who still hoped to befriend me. I wondered how many more declined invitations it would take for her to finally turn her back on me as the others had. I wondered what it might be like to have a friend like Lili. My eyes squeezed shut against the thought. It was dangerous for me to even consider it.
At the far end of the grassy stretch stood a man, solemn and alone. His armor shone dully under the cloud leaden sky, and try as I might, I could not place where I had seen him before.
Dust stirred beneath my tread as I approached.
A slant of golden sunlight broke through the din, gilding him in endless warmth. His brown hair gleamed where it curled across his forehead, strands tucked behind his ears, the ends barely brushing the top of his neck. Brown eyes turned molten, depthless, and they caught on me as I drew closer. His light brown skin was glowing, smooth and flawless save for two small scars—one across the bridge of his nose and the other brushing his upper lip.
Firelit warmth on a cold night, I thought, unbidden.
He tilted his head, the hint of a smile playing on his full lips. His hand curled around the hilt of his sword, drawing it ever so slowly,teasingly, in challenge. I drew my weapon with quick efficiency, not bothering to go along with his attempt at playfulness.
“I, Guardian Seren Corso of the Second Order, challenge you to a bout. First to yield forfeits. Do you accept these terms?” I began to circle him slowly, sizing up the grip he held on his weapon, the stance of his feet. His grin widened and the effect was altogether too distracting. I wrenched my gaze from his mouth.
