I slap my left hand to the stone, at which the door immediately opens.
CHAPTER NINE
Istep inside a place that can only be from my dreams.
Or, perhaps, from my nightmares.
A dark night sky stretches high above me for as far as I can see. A round moon rests within it, casting soft enough moonlight over the scene below so that it doesn’t hurt my eyes.
On my right is an orchard of trees, all fruit-bearing. I recognize the shapes of apples hanging from the branches, their bright-red skins easily visible.
Directly in front of me is a sculpted garden filled with rose bushes. They’re black roses. Their branches are so heavy with flowers that they droop to the ground. In the center of them is a bubbling fountain.
Behind the sculpted garden is a dark forest that extends far into the distance. The trees within the forest are set close enough together that cold shadows rest beneath them, but far enough apart that the thought of running through that forest is tantalizing.
What’s more, if I listen carefully, I can make out the soft scuffling of what could be creatures of prey.
I sense the reactions of the elves as they step inside the room, the buzz in the air and their increased heart rates telling me they’re already picturing themselves hunting in that forest.
On our left is a cottage with a thatched roof, two stories, and small windows. Gauzy, black curtains waft at the open windows on both levels, the soft material lifting in a gentle breeze that brushes my skin.
At first glance, this place has everything I could need for a safe stay: space to run, a water source, food to be hunted, and a place to sleep.
But there are too many aspects of it that are far too personal.
Nearly every night since my mother died, I’ve dreamed of her.
In my dreams, I can’t reach her. Her silhouette always passes across the edge of my vision and her form disappears before I can get to her.
Always, within my dreams, she moves through a room with inky-blue walls into a garden with black roses. A dark forest looms in the background.
Now, as I inhale the scent of the roses, I can nearly hear her humming.
I can imagine her bending to one of the rosebushes, snipping at the stem of her chosen flower while deftly avoiding its thorns.
I close my eyes, shivering.
Without stepping inside the cottage that sits to my left, I’m certain that the walls will be the same inky blue as the walls of the home in my dreams, right down to the swirling, silver filigree that decorates them.
Emil’s voice sounds softly at my shoulder. “I warned you to guard your dreams, my Veda.”
I startle at his sudden nearness. Ever since he started wearing this face, his presence has become harder to detect,his movements almost impossible to follow. And that’s saying something, given how finely tuned my senses are.
I had no warning of his proximity now, although I’m aware of the way my pack members are all edging toward me, as if they’ll leap to my defense if needed.
I raise my hand to tell them to stay put.
I can manage this.
As for what Emil said, he did warn me.
The first night I spent outside my cage after I fell asleep on a warm beach under a beautiful night sky, I woke to find him guarding me. His hand was pressed to his chest, as if it hurt.
He told me he couldn’t sleep that night because my dreams had kept him awake.
They’ve kept him awake many times since.
Now, somehow, the magic in the Underworld has recreated the home I dreamed about.
