They both knew what the words meant.
Just as she fell into dreams, forced by the invisible touch of the thief of her thoughts, she swore she heard a scream shatter through the stone.
When Luella awoke from dreams of hopping among puffy clouds and drinking from glass cups filled with swirling, glittery liquid, she smiled.
Clutching the dream amulet tangled around her neck, she sent a quiet wave of gratitude through the cracked-open door of her mind, hoping Bastian would feel it.
What a gift he had given her. A dream of something that felt far out of reach, but not quite any longer.
A good dream.
He hadn’t lied to her.
He hadn’t tricked her.
Not at all.
It felt strange to not be the target of trickery—a novel feeling. She waited there, on the bed, as if feeling like she was still suspended within a dream, and one wrong move would make it turn nightmarish. But it never came. The roar of distant thunderpermeated the stone walls, and the flame spluttered in the sconce, wax dripping to the floor as the candle reached its end.
She didn’t know what had awoken her until she caught the faint aroma of buttered bread seeping into the dank air. Her wings ached less than she remembered, and for a moment, she almost forgot they were there.
Her stomach grumbled, and she threw her legs over the side of the bed, rising with well-rested limbs. She teetered briefly, but caught herself with a hand against the wall. Was it just her, or had she found her balance easier this time?
On the floor next to the stone door, a small stone plate of steaming food lay. Her eyes widened.
Luella walked toward it and carefully lifted the plate, nearly dropping it as she stood. So, she decided to sit there, on the slightly warm floor by the door, legs crossed and wings folded behind her, the tips dragging against the ground as she ate.
She lifted the stone cup of water to her lips, smiling when it reminded her of her dream, and the sparkling swirls of stardust that had been tipped into the glass cup from the very sky itself.
One sip, and she realized how parched she was. She downed the entire glass in an instant, her stomach protesting as the water sloshed inside. She reached for the bread next, a loaf the size of her hand, the top dusted with golden flakes that fell to the floor as she lifted it. She tore into it. Alone, with no one to lecture her on propriety and no one to keep up appearances for, her actions were far less than those fitting for a princess.
But at this moment, she did not feel like a princess—neither of Solis, nor… Luna. She felt like a simple female, reduced to the basics.
Luella smiled around the bread.
As she finished eating, she found the door to her mind was still open, just a crack. Enough for her to easily send a thought down, knowing who would hear:
Bastian, thank you for my dream.
He responded immediately.You’re welcome, pet. Did you rest well?
Yes. I did.She paused, chewing.Are the others—have you spoken to them, as well?
We have a link where we speak to each other, much like the one between us.Bastian brushed against her mind, and the sensation was indescribable. He was inside her, and she knew that he felt what she did, but still, he waited for her to voice it.We all need to talk.
She knew they did, and his words were a cold shock of water thrown over her. Suddenly, the bread turned to ash in her mouth. She sat it down, rising slowly and padding to the bed. The flame flickered, one gust of air away from dying entirely.
Change the candle, pet. You do not want to be in the dark, Bastian warned.
She sighed, but did as he said, glad for his instructions. It gave her reason to keep on. A purpose.
As she used the dying flame to light the new wick, shadows danced in the corners of the room. She shivered as she blew out the old flame, letting it rest.
As air puffed past her lips, she swore, the very stone around her rattled faintly.
Her blue eyes grew wide, and inside her, Bastian’s worry filtered through as he said,When is the last time you felt pleasure, pet.
His candor made her blush, even alone. "You know," she replied softly, realizing this time, she had spoken aloud.
