Dreamer (The Dream World Chronicles Book 1)

by Camille Peters

  “A crystal ball that allows you to relive moments from the past, I’ve always wanted that. Oh look, and a jewelry box that holds secrets, I want that too. Ooh, a unicorn spotting memory; I must have that.”

  While I admired the jewelry box—which would be the perfect place to store my secrets from the constantly snooping Darius if only I could afford it—Stardust followed the line of stalls that led like a trail of bread crumbs down the twisting street, passing the stalls piled with nightmarish merchandise without a glance before pausing next to one selling glass ornaments.

  “Check out these snow globes. Only eight ounces of dream dust.”

  “Eight ounces?” How could anyone afford these prices? “Are you determined to bleed my magic dry before the festival ends?”

  Stardust slumped in obvious disappointment. “You’re right, you likely can’t afford these until you manage to win more weavings.”

  She continued looking around and brightened when she spotted something else. She held up a package of miniature moons lightly dusted with gold.

  “These would be perfect for you; they match your style perfectly.” After I’d purchased them, she dug my weaving mirror from my bag and held it up as I carefully wove the moons amongst the stars already dotting my lilac ringlets.

  Darius’s look warmed. “They suit you.” He reached out as if to help me secure a clip to my hair but I recoiled from his touch, which only deepened his melancholy and my own guilt for how I was treating him. Was I perhaps behaving unfairly? But who else could Blaze and Trinity have learned my secrets from except for him?

  I turned away and stroked my fingertip along the snow globes, all of which were so lovely. I felt the warmth of Darius’s presence as he stepped closer.

  “Do you want one?” he murmured into my ear.

  I shook my head and yanked my hand away. “We should go to the flying colors.”

  “You said ‘we’ that time.” Mischief filled his eyes as he waggled his eyebrows.

  “I know when I’ve lost a battle.” But I couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.

  He gently poked it with his finger. “I knew I could soften you.”

  My cheeks warmed and I hastily looked away. Only when my back was facing him did I allow my smile to fully emerge. Unfortunately it wasn’t lost on Stardust; it faltered at her glare. She was right to be annoyed; Darius shouldn’t be making me smile, not when I was supposed to be angry with him. But my grudge was slipping away against my will, as fleeting as the memory of a dream after its viewing.

  I halfheartedly tried to recapture it as we continued our trek to the flying colors show, only to find it rather difficult when I was also fighting the happiness of just being in Darius’s presence. I distracted myself with the several treat stands we passed, laden with nebula cream, meteor suckers, and even one run by a Nightmare offering chocolate-covered bat wings, which Darius looked briefly tempted by.

  “Hold on a moment.” Darius tugged me to a stop, causing my stomach to flip. Startled, I actually waited while he went to buy a treat, ignoring Stardust’s frantic urges to seize the opportunity to lose him.

  He returned from a nearby sweets booth with two bags of asteroid gumdrops. “I got us something for the show.”

  My scowl deepened and I flinched away when he offered me a bag, although it took all my willpower to resist the syrupy scent rising with the steam. “I’m not watching the show with you.”

  “I know you want to.” He shoved the warm bag in my arms, and although I took it—and grudgingly ate a few after several minutes of his pestering me to do so—I refused to warrant they were any good when he asked, despite the fruity sweetness dancing across my tongue. He merely shrugged indifferently, but I didn’t miss his slightly deflated expression.

  When Darius became temporarily distracted at a booth selling moon rocks, Bolt quickly popped up from his hair and grabbed a handful of gumdrops before ducking out of sight again. I smiled in spite of myself, and this time I didn’t try to hide it when Darius glanced over and met my gaze. His responding grin was worth the hit to my pride.

  The meadow where the show was to be held had been roped off with garlands of blossoms, a large archway its only entrance. Despite our arriving early, the sloping fields burst with crowds of Dreamers and Nightmares loitering on picnic blankets, floating cushions, or their clouds, their excited chatter and murmurs of laughter filling the settling night.

  Darius crumpled his empty gumdrop bag and tossed it at Stardust’s scowl. “There’s a spot over there.” He took my elbow and started guiding me towards the only empty area on the silver lawn, but I shook him off.

  “For the last time, I’m not watching the show with you.” But I reluctantly followed him around a group of Cultivators contentedly nibbling blossoms from the popcorn plant previously showcased in the cultivating display and a group of Nightmares who cast us suspicious glances.

  Darius seemed unbothered by their obvious disapproval as he plopped down onto the grass with a contented sigh. When I didn’t join him, he patted the spot beside him with an imploring grin. “Are you so stubborn you’d really stand at your first flying colors show, Nemesis?”

  Despite my anger at his betrayal, I couldn’t help feeling disappointed at Darius reverting back to my nickname, which he hadn’t used often since our outings together. I tried to convince myself this distance was for the best and tucked my anger more tightly around me like a shield as I scanned the meadow for any other available spot.

  “There’s one over there.” Stardust morphed into an arrow and pointed towards an empty section of grass midst the thick crowd, but even as she spoke someone claimed it. She shrugged. “Well, there’s always next year’s show. Let’s go.”

  I scanned the fields again, but everywhere else was taken. I nibbled my lip, deliberating. Which was worse, sitting with Darius or missing the show? Or perhaps the more accurate question was: which side of the battle raging within me would win, my anger or my desire to be with Darius, even after everything?

  “Come on,” Darius coaxed, his eyes strangely smoldering.

  “Fine.” I ignored his goofy grin as I plopped beside him as far away as possible, but in the limited space our knees still touched.

  “Well, that worked out better than I expected,” he said cheerfully. “Next task: get you to talk before the show ends.”

  Translation: butter me up so I’d spill more secrets to his treacherous ears. Judging by her glower, Stardust was thinking the same thing. “All the moonbits in the Universe wouldn’t be enough to force me to watch the show with him,” she muttered.

  “Then why don’t you just morph into a pesky insect and go somewhere else to watch?” Darius suggested.

  Stardust’s eyes narrowed, and I could almost sense her detective senses tingling with Darius’s not-so-subtle ploy to get me alone. Frowning, she morphed into a firefly, but before she left she flew against my ear.

  “After his recent betrayal, this entire scenario is obviously a setup,” she whispered. “But since you insist on going along with it, at least use it as an opportunity to figure out how much he knows about you-know-what.”

  With an unnecessary warning glare not to fall for his tricks—barely discernible due to her small form—Stardust floated away, leaving me and the traitor alone. But the longer I sat with him, the more I wondered whether Darius’s presence truly was a setup or if my anger had caused me to jump to that conclusion too readily, especially when all my instincts still assured me I could trust him.

  These worries taunted me in the time before the show started, my only distraction coming when the flying colors began. They were truly spectacular, a combination of the fireworks that lit up village celebrations and auroras I’d seen illustrated in books. They glowed with brilliant light and color, the strands bending and twisting together to orchestrated music to form unique designs with each graceful spin, a symphony of color.

  The twirling patterns were strangely hypnotic, and with each tr
ansforming picture lighting up the night sky, the annoyance bubbling inside me slowly slipped away. I hugged my knees to my chest, transfixed. “Magical.”

  “It’s my favorite part of the festival,” Darius murmured. I glanced at him to find him watching me rather than the flying colors, his eyes soft, and it took a moment after I’d caught him staring before he looked away.

  I studied his profile. Why hadn’t he started his interrogation yet? Wasn’t it the sole reason he’d invited me? The longer he held off, the more my hope grew that my fears were unjustified. Perhaps I could trust him after all. How I wanted to.

  His gaze met mine again, a single eyebrow raised in a wordless question. My vow of silence shattered, and the words I’d so fiercely suppressed tumbled out: “Why did you invite me?”

  He shrugged. “I wanted to spend time with you. Besides, after our time at the Alcove of Waterfalls, I’d thought…”

  The heated look that accompanied his words caused hope to lift my heart before I could quench it. That had truly been a tender turning point, one where I’d opened myself up to him and he’d promised to help me. Surely such a promise couldn’t be broken so easily.

  And yet the very circumstances surrounding our relationship caused a few reservations to remain. “But you’re a Nightmare and I’m a Dreamer. Such a connection has always been forbidden. Not to mention that from the beginning you’ve found me suspicious. Why should I believe you’ve had a change of heart now?”

  He frowned. “I know my behavior towards you may seem confusing, but I assure you I had a reason for it. I feel I’m walking a fine line, one as delicate as the balance of the Universe.” He grazed my hand with his fingertip. “But please be assured that I have nothing but your best interests in mind.”

  The hope filling my heart swelled. Could that really be true? “Was that your sole motivation?”

  He nudged my shoulder. “Well, perhaps there’s also been a bit of curiosity. I’m drawn to mysterious things, and you certainly fit that description.”

  I managed a smile. “I’m surprised you and Stardust don’t get along better.”

  He chuckled. “Some things will always remain a mystery.”

  Another silence stretched between us, but now my urgency to give Darius the cold shoulder had been replaced by the strange desire to fill the immensity of space that felt like universes between us, to get to know him. While I wanted to rationalize my feelings with hoping to better understand him, I couldn’t deny I was curious.

  “So tell me, do you have any hobby outside of looking in the mirror?” I asked.

  Amusement filled his smile. “I would love to weave for multiple Mortals. I could definitely handle it—that is, if you’d ever speed up your own weaving so I had time to take additional assignments. I really enjoy coming up with nightmares.”

  I shuddered. “But why nightmares? What good could possibly come from scaring Mortals?”

  “If their nights are full of darkness, won’t they better appreciate the light during the day? No matter what bad things happen in their sleep, they always wake up the next morning.” He glanced sideways at me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Besides, scary things are more interesting.”

  I gaped at him, the soft swirls of color lighting up the sky momentarily forgotten. “Do you really believe that?”

  He tilted his head. “Haven’t you ever been tempted to scare someone, just for the thrill of it?”

  My first response was no, but unwillingly memories loomed to the surface of when I’d done exactly that, especially the secret thrill I always felt at the dark circles beneath the eyes of my village tormentors after a restless night’s sleep, while their juicy nightmares lurked over them like a shadow.

  Darius’s expression softened. “But someone like you wouldn’t understand such a reason. You’re a Dreamer, after all.”

  He wouldn’t say that if he could see the secret part of me, buried deep, that was like him—the portion of my heart that enjoyed making Mortals scared. But, I reminded myself, giving nightmares was a different matter entirely.

  Darius leaned closer. “To answer your earlier question, believe it or not, I have another hobby besides looking in the mirror; I also study legends.”

  Though I already knew of this hobby considering I’d seen him reading his books during our Weavings, I happily listened as he proceeded to share some of his favorites—the birth of the very first Dreamers and Nightmares from falling stars, how those early Weavers discovered how to create dreams, and the rift that eventually developed between them that led to the separation of the two worlds. His words painted dancing images across my mind as vivid as the flying colors until I was paying more attention to the soothing rhythm of his voice than the colorful display lighting up the sky.

  He paused, smiling in a way that caused my heart to flutter. “It’s refreshing seeing you interested in anything that has to do with me. I wish you’d do it more often.”

  Heat flooded my cheeks, especially when he scooted a few inches closer and rested his hand over mine. I startled. “What are you doing?” My tone was so breathless I could barely speak. But I didn’t pull away; doing so would be impossible.

  He smiled as our gazes met. “Playing with your hand.” He traced the back of mine with his finger before pausing, suddenly wary. “Is this not alright?”

  It shouldn’t be, and I had every intention of telling him that it wasn’t…only to find myself nodding, the feelings developing within my heart far outweighing everything else. My breath hooked as Darius resumed his touch, his look concentrated as he traced his fingertip up and down each of my fingers, causing my pulse to palpitate wildly.

  Soon his touch explored further, moving from the back of my hand up my arm before caressing my cheek. “The lights are reflecting off your glitter.” He reached out, almost hypnotically, to brush against my shoulder and grasp the ends of my hair.

  For a moment time seemed to stop as he caressed my hair between his fingers, his gaze filled with a look similar to Caspian’s when he’d played with Angel’s hair. I found myself leaning against his touch before I came to my senses and pushed his hand away.

  “Please don’t,” I whispered, but my fingers lingered against my will on his warm skin.

  He slowly pulled away, severing our contact. “Tell me about life on Earth. What was it like living amongst the Mortals? I’ve always wondered how they get along without magic.”

  And in an instant, the beautiful moment was ruined. Although his emerald gaze was soft, inquiring, I felt my guard raise and my doubt return. I searched his expression. Why would he want to know? Was it curiosity, because he too could sense our connection, or for a more sinister purpose? I hesitated, torn between telling the truth and lying.

  “You already know the answer to that considering how much you spied on me for the Council.”

  He sighed. “You can’t blame me for noticing the only possessor of magic on Earth who’s ever been seen by Mortals. You obviously possess unusual power. I’m surprised you haven’t managed to scrape more wins during our Weavings.”

  His fishing was getting closer and closer to my heavily protected secrets. “It’s not my fault I’m partnered with someone so annoyingly talented,” I snapped. “I saw the nightmare you created for your exam in the weaving highlights. Why are you such an accomplished Weaver?”

  Darius shrugged, feigning modesty. “Just lucky, I guess.” He chuckled, a sound that was light, bouncy, and full of unexpected warmth. “You’re distracting me. Tell me about Earth.”

  I softened at his imploring expression. I supposed tales of Earth were very different than my dream-watching abilities. Plus I couldn’t deny I wanted to share parts of myself with him.

  He listened with rapt attention as I told him about growing up in my cottage covered in ivy and honeysuckles, my bedroom tucked away in the attic like a treehouse, the dusty bookshop whose books crumbled with age, the vibrant forest that was always quiet and peaceful, as well as my favorite village shop
s and festivals.

  I also described the hours working side by side with Mother in the garden. As I spoke, I could almost see each dainty flower, feel the texture of soil against my hands as I carefully tended the plants, smell the blossoms’ sweet symphonic scent, and Mother—my eyes grew misty and I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat.

  “I’d ask whether you’d ever consider taking up Cultivating,” Darius said. “But after what happened with the nightmare flower…that reservation aside, I bet you’d be good at it.”

  “I’m too busy trying to survive our Weavings.”

  A smile caressed Darius’s lips. “I can’t deny that.”

  We laughed, both scooting closer as we did so. “I’m sorry, that’s probably more than you wanted to know about my old life,” I said.

  “Nonsense, I want to hear more. You haven’t mentioned your friends yet.”

  I lowered my eyes. “I didn’t have any.” My cheeks warmed at the admission. “Even before they discovered my powers and burned my home, the villagers always avoided me. They always suspected I had magic; I suppose it’s difficult to trust the only villager with colorful hair. That’s why I can never go back.”

  His expression hardened. “Were they rude to you?” At my nod, his hands curled into fists. “Give me names. I’ll study them day and night until I discover what scares them most so I can give them the most frightening nightmare imaginable.”

  My heart warmed at his sweet defense. “Isn’t weaving for a Mortal that’s not your own against the rules?”

  His hand returned to my face. “I’d risk it for you.” He lightly traced the outlines of each star sparkling my cheek. Slowly, effortlessly, the walls I’d built to harbor my burning resentment again crumbled. Sitting with Darius made it so easy to trust him, to hope that the smoldering look filling his eyes was real rather than just another dream. I leaned into his stroking fingertips, but just as I was deciding his caress felt rather nice, he pulled his hand away.

  “Seen any good dreams lately?”

  Instantly, the moment we’d so carefully spun between us with each mesmerizing twist of the flying colors unraveled.