The shifting landscape ebbed and flowed like the sea, making Corin dizzy. Her knees hit ice as she lost balance. She clasped a hand over her mouth and tried to quell the nausea.
“Ah,” Malicine said. “I forget you’re not used to this.”
Before Corin could retort, a glacier rose like the waves of an ocean. They were already at high elevation from the hill, but the ice expanded even taller, chipping away until it built itself a translucent castle. Stout trees sprung around the footpath, glittering with cyan leaves and ice-coated apples. White gemstones dappled frozen fountains, its hushed waters reflecting colors of pale moonlight.
Malicine approached the double doors and waved them open. Under the flurry of snowflakes, Corin grabbed Elly’s hand forbalance as their shoes glided along the ice sleet. Flowers carved underneath the floor. Icicles shaped like water droplets dangled from chandeliers. A spiral staircase cascaded around the end of the room, edging over walls the color of a robin’s egg.
Elly let out a breath of smoke in awe. The corners of Malicine’s lips turned upward an expression that unnerved Corin.
“It’s fine to admit you’re impressed. I’ve always wanted to have my own castle and rule over people.”
“But there’s no one here,” Corin said.
“That’s because I realized I don’t like people.”
Malicine crossed the spiral staircase, motioning for them to follow. At the top floor, a long glass table stretched from one end of the room to the other. In the center sat a snow-encrusted fruit basket, blooming like an icy bouquet. Malicine pulled one of the frozen skewers and snapped the stick in half. The skewer melted, drenching the bowl in water. Vibrant reds and yellows leaked into the fruits and brought them to life. As Malicine reached the end of the table and waved their staff, the entire table’s surface filled with food.
The sudden appearance made Corin jump against the wall. The volume of colors and aromas was so overwhelming that her eyes jerked across each plate, not knowing what to focus on first. Garlic and tomatoes topped over slices of warm bread. Small plates held brie tarts that oozed with raspberry. Bigger dishes sat in the center and displayed billowy circles of pasta drenched in squid ink and cheese.
Saliva threatened to drip from the corners of Corin’s mouth. She licked her lips as discreetly as she could.
“In the dreamworld, eating is a pleasure, not a necessity,” Malicine said, pouring a bottle of wine into their goblet. The scentof black cherries and dark rich earth filled the air. “Whatever your stomachs desire, it is yours.”
“How do we know you’re not trying to poison us?” Corin hissed.
They rolled their eyes. “Of all the ways I’ve thought to kill you, it never crossed my mind to waste food. Indulge yourself already. You look like a bunch of ragged children in the state you’re in.”
Elly reached for a plate of roasted squash and lentils until Corin smacked her hand. She knew better than to take food from strangers, especially ones that had almost killed them earlier. But a deep grumble came from Elly’s stomach, and that was the sound that Corin hated most: her sister going hungry.
“I’ll taste first,” Corin said. “If something goes wrong, run.”
She glanced at a plate of bell peppers. They were as orange as the sunset, sliced open and stuffed with mushrooms. Too many colors, too many ingredients, too many chances to die in vain for a luxury that was never theirs to begin with. She stabbed one of the mushrooms with a fork and bit into the buttered caps. Flavors burst on her tongue, each grain of spice dancing on her lips. Creams melted down her throat, and a small fire lit the inside of her stomach, warm and comforting.
Elly and Malicine watched every movement of her jaw, every swallow that bobbed her throat, until eventually, Corin had to admit defeat.
“It’s good,” she muttered, staring down at the plate. “It’s really good.”
“Better than anything you’ve ever eaten?” Smugness tinged Malicine’s voice as Elly dove in to join the feast, slicing a layer of chocolate cake.
Corin remained silent. It was true that they had never eaten anything as extravagant as this. But she was not some hopelesspeasant who had never enjoyed a warm meal. Her eyes gazed over the ornate table as she remembered a smaller one, years ago, built from a fallen tree trunk. Mismatched plates stacked atop as their friends bundled together in the winter, small candles and patchwork blankets keeping them warm.
Those nights had become a winter tradition, where everyone brought their own ingredients for the communal stew. Corin had looted turnips and carrots from farms. Harlow had traded favors with the butcher, bringing steak and chicken. There was Rowan, a weaver who grew his own mushrooms, and Maggie, the older seamstress with careful fingers, yelling at everyone to leave her kitchen because she didn’t trust them to chop the vegetables.
The tables were cluttered and the people were noisy, but for a time, they were the only reason why winters were bearable. After Corin left the commune, she never replicated those meals again. She wasn’t someone who could offer that kind of warmth to another person. Even Elly learned that eventually.
Malicine interrupted her rumination with a low hum. “So what you’ve said about Gyldan is true,” they said. “It must be, from the way you eat like you’ve never eaten before.”
The demon had watched them with a vigilant stare, as if Corin and Elly were specimens being studied. Then their gaze dropped to their empty goblet. Shadows passed behind their eyes, hazy memories from a time Corin could not discern.
“Tell me,” Malicine continued, “how long has it been since the princess fell asleep?”
“A hundred years,” Elly answered.
Malicine made a wry smile that didn’t reach their eyes. “It feels like I came here only yesterday.”
“What do you mean?”
“Time doesn’t exist in dreams. Sometimes it feels like a few hours have passed, sometimes it feels like centuries. Even now, another hundred years might have passed in the real world since you’ve left.”
