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She took his hand in hers as they walked. It was a chaste touch, but Luc still noted the energetic pulse arcing between them, the promise of that connection falling into place.
But he knew nothing of such promises. Had never given one. Hadn’t received one. Had mocked those who might try. Abhorred the thought of being god-yoked like Nix. And yet—this touch sent bright heat through his body, reminding him of desire, and warm heat to his heart. making it beat a little faster, a little stronger with new awareness he wasn’t prepared to acknowledge.
He wanted to resist it, but then Woodland Fairy Brinna looked at him with all-knowing eyes, “Why are you afraid?”
“I’m not afraid, I’m a g–” But his throat closed on the word. He’d once been a god. Now, he was just a god without his ascended power.
“Once upon a time,” she said, stopping and releasing Luc’s hand.
They were at the edge of a lake. The gray-blue surface stretched to the horizon as far as he could see, reminding him of Brinna’s eyes. Frothy waves rolled in, lapping at the pebbled shore, dappled with a variety of colors. The steely gray sky threatened a coming storm.
He’d been there before, or somewhere like it during one of his many Roams. Then after, when he’d realized he’d failed to free Nix from the spell the first time. He’d used his own blood, just like he was supposed to do with a simple blood spell, but it had failed, revealing he hadn’t actually helped to cast a simple blood spell. The clarity of what he’d done to Nix filled him with absolute shame, so he’d run, and ended up at a lake like this in the seventh circle. Luc remembered standing lakeside, shouting into the storm at his failure and stupidity and the piercing accusation of what he’d done to his brother.
“Why are we here?” he asked, wanting to leave.
“You tell me. You made it. I’ve never seen anything like it. Sevens has a river, but I’ve never gone all the way to Silver Lake.”
“I made it?” He looked at the view again.
She nodded. “Do you feel like running now?”
A gentle breeze drifted off the water, lifting the tendrils of her hair and cooling his skin. Luc couldn’t help but notice her nipples pebble underneath the fabric hugging her form.
“Why?” He resisted the urge to reach out and touch her.
“Isn’t that what you do? I believe you told me that once, and I’ve witnessed it.” She tilted her head to regard him and waited.
He opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. He blinked, and they were in the glen once more, Brinna reclining on the chaise, Luc standing at the edge of dais looking at her.
“You’re different here,” he said.
“How so?” she asked, shifting and offering Luc room to join her on the chaise. He did, perching on the end and twisting so he could look at her. She reclined, stretching out her legs, one hand resting on the arched wing of the chair.
“You seem happier. Freer. More… you.” He looked down at her foot pressed against his thigh, and unable to resist touching her, laid his hand over the top of it, his skin connecting with hers, his thumb pressed into the arch. His heart picked up speed, and he could feel it in his throat, hear it like a pulsing ocean in his ears.
She plucked a berry from a bowl next to her and popped it in her mouth. “There is freedom in dreaming. We aren’t beholden to the expectations of the beyond.”
Luc understood her words but got stuck watching her slip her fingers inside her mouth and suck the berry juice. His insides quickened. “Yes,” he managed to say, only he wasn’t exactly sure what they’d been talking about, only remembered she’d been about to tell him a story.
“Why do you leave?” she asked.
“I like adventure. The novelty.”
“Do you?” she asked.
Luc wanted to lash out and tell her “yes” but then swallowed it. He knew it was a lie. It was because he was afraid of being alone with his thoughts. Shame, guilt, and failure were horrible monsters that pointed gnarled fingers at him and chained him up with doubt. It was impossible to get away from them—except when Roaming. There, they were kept at arm’s length. But he didn’t feel like admitting that to Dream Brinna. Truthfully, he wouldn’t admit that anyone, not even himself in his waking life.
“So the story?” he asked, trying to distract her.
“You want to hear one?” She ate another berry, then offered him one, which he took from her open palm.
“Yes.”
“Once upon a time there was a witch who cast a spell on a maiden who’d wandered into her woods.”
“Is that you?” he asked, the berry bursting pleasantly in his mouth.
“You’ll have to decide if I’m the maiden or the witch,” she said with a devious smile and ate another berry, her pink tongue curling around the fruit.
