Dream King by Elise Knight

16

Iawoke to the smell of cooking. Once again, it looked like weird monkey-rabbit was on the menu.

“How are you feeling?” Dream asked, slicing a sliver of meat from the bone and passing it to me.

I sat up and took the offering. “Better. My leg hurts less.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I’d like to check it before we set off. I think you should have a bit of a walk on the beach first to see how you cope before we start the walk through the woods.”

“You care that I can walk?”

“Not particularly. I just don’t want to have to carry you.”

Great! I’d had a moment with him yesterday based on him grazing my leg and then me seeing him naked. I didn’t know why I did this to myself. He might have been there when these moments were occurring, but he wasn’t sharing them with me. He’d made it abundantly clear time and time again that I was merely a problem to him. Why was it that I continued to see affection that wasn’t there? I guess it was a habit of a lifetime if David was anything to go by.

“I’ll be fine!” I muttered, taking the rest of the animal and pulling the meat off it with my teeth.

We ate in stony silence, giving me time to reflect. I’d been in this crazy world for at least a month, and I’d yet to do anything, to see anything. And I was yet to find out what was happening to my mother.

Something told me that he wouldn’t tell me if I asked. I was going to have to find out myself.

“I want to see what you see,” I ventured, sucking the last of the meat from the bone.

He looked up, an eyebrow raised. “What do you mean?”

“The doors. I want to see what is beyond them.” And figure out what the freaking hell you are doing to people in there.

“You know what lies beyond the doors. It is the dreams of your kind.”

I nodded and threw the bone to the ground. “I get that, but knowing it’s people’s dreams and seeing it for myself are two different things. I want to know what you do.”

He stood and crossed over to where I was sitting. Without asking, because when did he ever ask permission, he grabbed my arm and yanked me to my feet.

“Oy!” I yelled out, ripping my arm from his grip. “What are you doing?”

“I told you that we needed to test that leg of yours. I’m not starting the journey back to the doors if you can’t walk. So come on...”

I stared at him, feeling the anger bubbling up again, but this time I was going to contain it. I didn’t want to leave this beautiful place, but staying here wouldn’t get me any closer to where I wanted to be. Just like Dream, I needed to get back to the doors too.

I took a hesitant step with my injured leg. Pain shot right up my thigh, but I kept my mouth shut. I needed him to think I was fine. I walked a small way, letting my muscles get some exercise. The pain abated slightly, the more I moved.

“Does it hurt?” Dream asked, standing next to me. He searched my face for the pain I felt, so I plastered on a smile.

“Nope. Not in the slightest. In fact, I’m ready to leave now if you are.”

He pursed his lips, looking uncertain. It was like he could see through every lie I told him, and I hated him for it.

“Walk up and down the beach a few times.”

Not a request. Another order, but I did as he said. He sat back down by the fire and watched me walk up and down past him. Feeling like a model on a runway, albeit a more self-conscious one, I kept my eyes forward and my legs moving. My muscles began to ease, and though they were still painful, walking was becoming easier. I even managed a twirl at the end before coming to a stop beside Dream.

“Ready to go?”

Without waiting for an answer, I stepped over his legs and headed into the forest.

Just being back in there reminded me of how spooky it really was. I’d been lulled into a false sense of security by the glittering beauty of the lake and mountains, but here where the moonlight barely reached, I was once again plunged into the strange blue darkness that reminded me of the wolveries and other strange creatures that ventured here.

I was glad when I heard Dream’s footsteps coming up behind me, although I’d never admit it to him.

“Don’t do that again,” he snarled as he fell into step beside me.

“Do what?” I asked innocently.

“Go into the woods without me. Haven’t the last few days taught you anything?”

I didn’t want to have to remind him for a second time that it was me that saved his sorry ass and not the other way around, so I changed the subject instead.

“You never replied to my question.”

He sighed. “If you are referring to whether or not you can come through the doors with me, you never actually asked me a question. You merely said you wanted to.”

Pedantic asshole. “Ok, may I come through the doors with you?”

“No.”

I glanced over at him. The guy was unbelievable in more ways than one.

“That’s it? Not ‘No, I don’t think it’s safe for you,’ or ‘It’s people’s private thoughts?’ Just no?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you. I’ve said no. That should be the end of it.”

But it wasn’t going to be the end of it. I hated being told no at the best of times, but to be told no without reason, even a bad reason, really irked me.

“Why not?”

He didn’t answer. He’d reverted back into the silent brooding type again.

The journey back seemed to take forever, and though my muscles had eased up slightly on the beach, the initial relief hadn’t lasted long. Each step was torture, and I didn’t even have anyone to talk to, to take my mind off it. Dream might as well not have been there with his lack of social intercourse, and Raven flew on ahead. Not that he could reply to anything I said to him anyway. I looked at Dream as we came to a standstill.

He looked around thoughtfully as though this was some mystical place, but to me, it looked like every other part of the forest. Dark.

“We camp here.”

“Camp? I thought we were going back to the doors.”

“And we are,” he replied, sitting down and lighting one of his magic fires. “If you remember, we ran all the way to the beach. This time we are walking which takes a lot longer, and though you tell me you feel fine, the slight limp in your left leg tells me otherwise. You need to eat, and you need to sleep. Now sit down while I get you something.”

We can’t have been walking more than a couple of hours, but I had to admit, I needed the rest. My ankles had swollen up, and although no blood was seeping through the bandages, the cuts stung like a thousand bastard bees had held a party on my legs.

As Dream took off into the woods, I lay down on the crisp leaves that littered the forest floor. The same smell of flowers hit me. It was so strong I could almost close my eyes and imagine I was sitting in a beautiful meadow full of blooms instead of the dead wasteland of forest.

I wondered what time it was. Dream would know instinctively. My body clock was so messed up with the eternal darkness that it could have been midnight as easily as it could have been the middle of the day.

I heard, rather than saw, him sitting beside me. The rustle of the leaves beneath him, the crackle of the fire as he threw something on it. Something that didn’t take long to smell delicious. I ignored him in much the same way he ignored me. I’d done my best to converse with him and given up with the constant stony silence he was so good at. If he wanted silence, he could have it. I’d eat whatever meat he’d found then sleep.

Then something caught me off balance. Like, seriously. If I’d been standing up, it would have knocked me to the ground. He was singing. It was a tune with words I didn’t understand, but it was breathtaking. He not only had the body of an angel, he sang like one too. Was there no end to this man’s talents?

How fucking irritating.

I didn’t move as he filled the air with his lyrical voice, singing about goodness knew what. And then the song became more somber, and I imagined it to be a song about love and loss. It was like nothing I’d ever heard, but it spoke to my heart. I could almost feel the heartache of the person he was singing about.

When he went silent, I finally opened my eyes and pulled myself up into a sitting position. “That was beautiful,” I conceded. “What was it?”

“It was a lullaby from when I was a child.”

That wasn’t what I expected. I couldn’t imagine him ever being a young child.

“What was your childhood like?” I asked.

His face clouded over, and I waited for the inevitable silence, but he spoke. “I don’t remember.”

It was a lie. He could read me like a book. He’d had that uncanny and frankly annoying ability from the first day we met, but this time I’d read him. No one remembered a song like that and forgot the time it came from.

“Everyone remembers their childhood.”

“Not me. You forget how old I am.”

Actually,” I reminded him. “You’ve never told me how old you are.”

“I’m old.”

And grumpy with it, I added silently. He said he was old, but he didn’t look it. He was in the prime of his life. Maybe he was immortal. Nothing would surprise me when it came to him.

“You remembered that song. I can’t imagine remembering a song and forgetting who sang it to me the first time.”

He had a mother! The realization hit me that I’d previously thought of him as though he’d been born from nothing. But a mother would sing a song like that to a child.

“What about your childhood?” he asked, diverting attention from himself. Another tactic he liked to use.

I thought again about my own mother. How I’d wasted so much time away from her. How I’d not been there for her when she needed me the most.

“I was a crappy daughter.” I started, picking at a leaf by my feet. Despite its deathly appearance, it was soft to the touch. This one had only just fallen from the tree above it. “I was born in Winnipeg... It’s a city near...”

“I know where Winnipeg is. I have a vast knowledge of all your countries, cities, towns, and villages. I know the rivers and the mountains and the lakes.”

Of course, he bloody did. Smartass.

“Well, anyway. I was born there. Just outside it, really, in a small rural town. I wanted to escape. My entire childhood, I wanted to escape.

“Your mother was bad to you?”

The way he looked at me told me he was actually interested in something I had to say. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. I figured there was no point hiding anything. He’d seen all my sordid dreams. He probably knew my story better than I did.

“My mother was great. She was a perfect mother. She worked her ass off to bring my sister and me up. My sister is perfect too.”

He cocked his head to the side. “So why did you want to escape such a perfect existence?”

“You know my dreams, don’t you? You’ve seen everything I’ve dreamed since I was a baby. You remember it all?”

It was a sobering thought, but there was no denying it. I’d seen how his memory worked. Nine billion people on earth, and he knew each and every one of them intimately.

“I do.”

“What do you make of my childhood?”

He shrugged. “It is not for me to say. Your dreams are private and yours only.”

“A bit rich coming from someone who invades them every night.”

“It doesn’t make them mine. Nor does it give me the right to talk about them.”

I mulled this over for precisely half a second. “If I give you permission to talk about my dreams, then will you?”

He shrugged an acceptance or as close to an acceptance he was willing to give.

“So tell me, what did you think of my childhood?”

I don’t even know why I was so bothered. His opinion of my early years hardly mattered, but I wanted to know.

“You had happy dreams. You dreamed of horses and puppies and rainbows on rainy days. You dreamed of laughter-filled snowball fights in the winter and swimming in the summer. Your mother featured heavily in them. Your sister too. All I ever saw were smiles.”

It was like being punched in the gut. He was completely right. My childhood had been idyllic. Sure, we had barely two pennies to rub together, but we had each other. My mom, my older sister Arizona and me. And then I’d fucked it all up searching for something I’d never found. All I’d found was David and debt.

“It was never enough,” I sighed. I had it all, and it wasn’t enough.

“You had no father?” Dream asked, sticking the proverbial knife in further.

“I didn’t need one. The lack of a father was never a problem. He left before I was even born. He was a total deadbeat by all accounts.”

He mulled this over thoughtfully, his eyebrows knitting together. “You didn’t know him? You’ve dreamed about him.”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I met him a few times when I was about twelve. He didn’t give a shit about me. Didn’t want to know. I think he thought it would be better if my sister and I didn’t exist. I told you he was a deadbeat, so no, I didn’t know him.”

Dream went quiet; his eyes drifted off into space until I waved my hands in front of them to bring him back. A muscle ticked in his cheek. His eyes slid into focus, though his expression remained stony. I’d thought I was breaking ground with him. Obviously not.

“So if it wasn’t your father, or lack of one, what could you possibly have wanted that you didn’t already have?”

Bile came into my throat. He was asking me questions that I’d spent years avoiding asking myself. And there was no answer. What I’d wanted at eighteen had been childish. I saw that now.

“I wanted more money. My mother practically lived in rags. My sister wore thrift store clothes, and I wore her hand-me-downs.”

“I didn’t see poverty in your childhood. If anything, I saw wealth. You had a house. You had a TV. You had a car.”

Fuck! I stood up and folded my arms. “Alright! I had it all. I was hardly little orphan Annie. I guess you have seen poverty, real poverty. People in Africa or wherever that live on grains. I’m just a selfish bitch, alright. Yes, there was always food on the table, and yes, we lived in a nice house. It just wasn’t nice enough. It wasn’t big enough. Posh enough. My clothes never had the right labels. Our car was never flashy enough. It’s pathetic, I know. And you know what. I left home to find fame and fortune and what I found was worse. I really did have to skip meals to survive. Sometimes in Vancouver, after David left, I could barely afford to think about food, let alone actually eat the stuff. But even before that, we were hardly rich. We lived in the shitty apartment you saw, and my car is held together with rust and wishes.”

“So why didn’t you go home?”

Anger flared in me. Not at him, at myself, but he was the only one there, so he got the brunt of it.

“I couldn’t. I couldn’t go home and admit how pathetic I was. I kept thinking just one more month, and I’d have life figured out. I’d be able to go home and share my riches with my mom and my sister. Fuck knows they deserve it. But I didn’t have riches. I had letters from the bank with red stamps all over them informing me I’d gone over my overdraft limit.”

Hot angry tears began to pour down my face, and there was nothing I could do to stop them.

I wanted to hide. To run into the forest so Dream wouldn’t see what a complete fuck-up I was, but there was no point. He’d only chase me, which would make it even worse. So I turned my back to him. Foolish pride, once again taking over.

His arms wrapped around me, taking me off guard. He pulled me close to him, my back against his chest. I had no control over what happened next. I turned and buried myself in his chest, letting the tears fall as he held me tightly.

He didn’t let go until I was completely spent.

Something had changed, in him, in me, in both of us. He was no longer my captor; he was a man. A man I couldn’t take my eyes off. He still held that stern look that had occupied his face earlier, but now I saw something else in it. Confusion. My own battle raged within me. I shouldn’t be enjoying him holding me. I certainly shouldn’t be enjoying it with the way he was looking at me. It was like he’d never seen me before, although it felt to me that he’d known me his whole life. His gaze captured me in its intensity, and I couldn’t look away. He searched my face, his eyes settling on my lips, and his hand moved up into my hair. I was completely trapped by him in a way that the magical bonds he’d previously used on me couldn’t hope to do. I was consumed by his staggering beauty, by how perfect he was, and most of all, by how close we were. My heart thrummed in my ears, made all the louder by the silence of the forest. We were the only two people in the entire world, or at least, that was what it felt like in that moment. His eyes focused on my lips, and I saw desire in them and that painful stare as though kissing me would burn him. I could understand his conflict completely because I felt it myself. My emotions fought themselves as I strove to see sense. Kissing him would be awful. Worse than awful. He was holding my mother and hundreds of thousands of others against their will. I needed to keep that in mind, not get lost in the way his hands were running through my hair, or the desire to taste his lips, or how my body was responding to his.

It’s only because he’s beautiful, nothing more! I reasoned with myself. Ridiculously, overwhelmingly, devastatingly so. Anyone with eyes would respond this way to him. My body was only acting naturally. Anyone would feel the same. Oh god, what am I doing?”

He moved in closer so that our lips were nearly touching. Just one inch more, and I’d know what it was like to kiss Dream. My breath hitched, and my eyes closed as I bridged the gap between us.

I fell forward into air, no longer being held up by Dream. I opened my eyes to see him ragging his hands through his own hair, despair painting his features.

“I’m going for a walk. You should rest up. We’ve still got a long walk tomorrow.”

My mouth dropped open as he took off into the forest, almost as quick as he had when he’d been running away from the wolveries. Except that time, he’d been scared for me. This time, I wondered if he was scared of me.