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But that doesn’t mean I can’t try.
After all, what do I have to lose?
Declan’s face rises in my mind again, and I shiver. Yes, Mother could threaten to hurt him, but I sense that she won’t. He’s hers, connected to the garden in some way. I don’t know how, but I know she would never destroy one of her own without provocation.
But then…provocation is what I intend to bring to her garden gate.
Tonight.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Clara
I am a hawk wreathed in shadow.
I am a black rat slinking across the darkened village square, and while a serving girl tosses dinner scraps to the pigs behind her employer’s fine home, I’m the slate-gray moth fluttering in through the back door.
Once inside, my wings take me through the kitchen, into the foyer and up the stairs, where I wisp into smoke and seep beneath a bedroom door, finally wafting toward the small bed in the corner.
The little girl is young—no more than two or three—and already sleeping hard and deep, though the sun set barely an hour ago.
Her mind should grant passage to the night garden. I was forbidden to return, but there are no spells in place to keep me out. Each time I drift through a human mind, I can feel the entrance to my mother’s realm close by, tugging at my wrist. I can smell the stardust drifting through from the other side of the gate, but I never dared defy her order.
I never even thought about defying her.
I was ignorant, too. Lazy and thoughtless and…asleep.
But not now. I’m wide awake, my every cell abuzz as I pierce the veil, slip into the child’s dream, and into a forest, where I freeze for a moment…dazzled.
There are flowers everywhere, bursting from the earth, reaching high into the sky, and floating through the petal-scented air. A stream rushes through the center of the woods, glittering in the sun. But it’s not an ordinary stream. It’s all the colors of the rainbow and filled with fish that wriggle just below the surface, leaping and giggling as they play an elaborate game of fish tag. And there, in the midst of them, is the dreamer. She’s a tiny fish with pink scales, and she bursts from the water with a squeal of delight just in time to avoid being tagged by a bigger fish. She lands on a passing flower that buoys her up, up into the air, where clouds shaped like horses draw her deeper into her adventure.
I’ve never been in a child’s mind—or a girl’s, for that matter.
My gift is for men and boys of a certain age, and I cast out so many threads at once that there’s rarely time to dwell on the contents of one mind over another. And by the time I arrive in a dream, my magic has already laid the groundwork for any sweet or delightful thing to take a turn for the terrifying.
I’ve always known that humans have pleasant dreams, not only nightmares, but I’ve never borne witness to magic like this.
That’s what it feels like—magic, as strong and real as my mother’s, worked by a child so young she probably can’t count higher than ten. The girl has no idea what she’s doing and will eventually fall prey to nightmares the way all human minds do, but still…the flower-scented forest gives me hope.
There are so many things I don’t know, secrets left to learn, wonders to discover. The world is vast and mysterious, and so is humanity, and…so am I.
If I can just make Mother understand.
The human world isn’t as simple as she led me to believe. Right and wrong can be hard to sort out and even the best stumble and fall. Wig and Poke deserved forgiveness tonight, and many humans do, too.
Maybe they all do, even the ones who have done horrible things, as long as they intend to mend their ways. Mercy doesn’t seem like the kind of thing that should be applied sparingly. If one person deserves it, shouldn’t they all? And isn’t that what Mother really wants? For things to be fair?
That hopeful thought tickles the back of my mind—Mother gave me magic to hurt men who hurt women. But why not give men and women, both, gifts instead—the gift of a view other than their own?
I could do it, I think. Work magic like that, through dreams that inspire empathy and compassion instead of terror.
At least I could try. If Mother will allow it.
Maybe we won’t have to do battle tonight. Maybe I can simply…forgive her, wrap my arms around her and ask if we can find a way for me to be her daughter that doesn’t hurt so much.
With one last glance at the enchanted forest, where spell sparks still glitter and flash, I draw the smoky wisps of myself close and press deeper into the child’s mind.
