“We’re so pleased you could join us this evening,” Diana says with a wide smile.
“Of course, I wouldn’t have missed it,” I say, matching her smile. Her warm smiles and easy charm do wonders to sooth the tension I carried in with me.
I wasn’t entirely sure how either of them would react to my presence. Sure, Fleur said they talked about me frequently. But does that really mean they wanted to welcome me back into this life? Their life? Everything they’ve said and done since I arrived has been nothing but joyous and welcoming. It helps me to get an idea of what settling into a life in this place could look like. A life with them.
Serving staff appear through one of the doors near the back of the room with trays upon trays of food. The spread is much too excessive for a normal evening meal for three people. This is more food than Fleur made for Samhain, and even that was overboard. There are several trays of different sliced meats, gravy boats filled with sauces of every kind, various roasted vegetables, and three types of bread rolls.
Who needs three different kinds of bread?
“Wow,” I breathe out. Not really sure what else to say. I won’t even be able to eat a fraction of what’s here. I wonder what they do with the leftover food. The idea of this much food going to waste brings a sour taste to my mouth. This could easily feed most of the people in Willowbrook.
One of the staff rushes over with a carafe, diligently filling each of our wine glasses before hastening back out of the room.
Diana lifts her glass to hover in the air, Oberon following suit. “A toast,” she says with that warm smile of hers. I fumble to reach for my glass and mirror their positions. “Here’s to welcoming our daughter home, princess of the Seelie Fae. To the wonderful things I know you’ll help this court achieve. And lastly, to getting to know you better.”
I give them a hesitant smile before clinking my glass with theirs and taking a large swig. The wine might be my favorite thing about this dinner. It’s a deep, rich red but the flavor is light and fruity, with just enough sweetness to keep it from coming across bitter. I could easily have several glasses of this tonight, but that’s probably not a wise decision.
“We weren’t sure what you liked to eat, so we asked Cook for a bit of everything. Hope there’s something here to your liking,” Oberon says. I know their intentions are good, but I have to bite my tongue to avoid making some sort of snarky remark that they would know if they hadn’t sent me away.
“I eat anything really, so this is more than enough. Truly,” I give them a smile that I hope conveys that I’m not just saying that. I begin to shovel a little bit of everything onto my plate. My mouth is watering from the smell of it all alone. I detect some of those same Alinean spices I first tasted at the restaurant in Pontera with Bastian. A connection that only sends my mind spiraling back to that night. The attack. Thekisses. I’m so glad I got to see him once more before I’m left here alone for the evening, but I miss his constant presence. There’s a cold, empty space beside me that he used to occupy. It’s weird how it feels like there’s a piece of me missing without him around.
“So, tell us. How was Willowbrook?” Oberon asks as he slices off a bite of beef he smothered in a thick, brown gravy. They both watch me expectantly as they chew.
I can’t tell if this is a serious question. If he realizes that this is a sore subject. Is he clueless to how this might make me react? I fork a piece of tender meat into my mouth, buying me time and giving the fury that simmers below the surface the opportunity to cool.
My eyes travel across the expanse of the room. Much like the rest of the palace, every accent in the room is gilded. The curtains, the chandeliers, even the plates and cutlery are a brushed gold. It reminds me of a fairytale I read once about a king who could turn everything he touched to gold. It screams an extravagance I’ve never known. Fleur and I weren’t the worst off in our village by far, but we also weren’t swimming in luxury the way my parents are. I assume the modest lifestyle was Fleur’s attempt at helping us remain undetected, but the fact that we could’ve lived like this irritates me. Not that I ever longed for a more comfortable life, we weren’t struggling by any means. It’s just that the difference between these two places is glaringly obvious.
Swallowing down the bite, I finally respond. “It was… different,” I work to keep my voice even. Diana and Oberon’s gazes flick to each other for a brief moment before they return their attention to me. I can’t tell if they pick up on my stiff, hesitant response. If they do, they carry on as if it never happened.
The rest of the meal passes in a blur of dodging the harder topics, keeping everything surface level. It requires some artful maneuvering on my part to avoid letting my anger take over. The two of them masterfully carry the conversation like the trained diplomats they are, but even they can’t help the awkward silences that break up the flow.
By the time I get back to my room I’m so mentally exhausted, I barely let Marina help me strip out of my dress before I collapse onto the mattress.
I blinkthe sleep from my eyes and take in my surroundings with furrowed brows.
This is most definitelynotthe same bed I fell asleep in.
Unless I somehow dreamt up the entire last week of adventures and we never actually left Bastian’s cottage. Because that’s exactly where I am right now. My imagination can run a bit wild, but it’s not that good.
I scramble upright and see him leaning against the wall on the other side of the room.
“Oh, good. It worked,” he says, the image of nonchalance.
“Whatworked?” I ask, confused. “How did I get here? Did I not fall asleep in the Seelie palace?”
“You still are,” he says, walking over to where I’m propped up in the bed and sits on the edge beside me.
“Uh, no. I’m not,” I say waving my arms around me as if to sayare you blind?
He chuckled. “You are. This is all an illusion, of sorts.”
“An illusion…” I say, slowly.
He nods. “Essentially, yes. It’s called dreamwalking.” The word tickles at something in the back of my mind.
“Which is?” I gesture my hands at him in ago onmotion.
He hesitates for a moment, as if weighing the decision to share another piece of himself. “I can step into other people’s dreams and observe or interact. Or in this case, create an illusion of a place and pull you into it.”
