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“What?”
She drew away, leaning back to look at him. “Where are you?”
It was a confusing question. “Here,” he answered, though it sounded as if he was asking her a question.
“No. Not here, here.” She left their embrace. “Where were you before here?”
Luc tried to concentrate on her question, but his mind focused on watching her move. He thought about missing the sensation of her in his arms. He was empty now.
“Lucian.” She grabbed hold of his face.
“Huh?” He blinked. “What?”
“Where are you?”
He blinked again to focus on her question and realized he couldn’t recall being anywhere other than there with her. He pictured his bed, his pillow. “In my room. Sleeping. Wait–”
“We’re dreaming,” she said and turned away, walking a few steps into the woods. “How are we dreaming together?”
The woods suddenly shifted, the colors clear and bold as if they had been painted over one, two, three times to make them somehow brighter. The evergreens were vibrant with light green tips while the darker boughs popped with over-saturation. The deciduous trees—the orange, red, and yellow leaves—were so bright it was almost difficult to look at them. When Luc turned his head to look at Brinna, he had to refocus his eyes, squinting to see her properly. She, too, was so bright.
He held up a hand to shield his eyes. “What are you talking about? Where are you?”
“What are you doing?” She put her hands on her hips. “Inside the cottage. Sleeping.”
He shook his head, trying to shake his thoughts back into place and blinked more, the color regulating so he could focus. “Sleeping?”
Brinna nodded, her eyes widening. She took several steps back toward him. “Mother. She gave us all a sleeping potion. I’m sure of it.”
Suddenly, this weird dream paralleled reality a bit too closely. “Your mother? But why? I’m dreaming right?”
She ignored his question, pacing instead as she chattered. “We got to the cottage, and she’d promised to tell us the truth. She insisted on the tea. Next thing I know, I’m asleep.”
Luc followed her movement with his eyes. Focusing on her was easier than the unfiltered light around him, the color regulating and making it easier to see. “Wait. You’re asleep.” He rubbed his forehead. “This is a weird dream.”
She reached out and pinched him.
“Ouch.” Luc rubbed the soft spot on the underside of his arm. “What was that for?”
“A test.” She tilted her head, and Lucian noticed the loose tendrils of her hair skimming her neck as Brinna tucked a lock behind her ear.
“How is it that you felt that?” she asked. “I’ve spent my whole life dreaming, and I have never once felt physical pain in one. The suggestion of pain, yes, but actual pain?”
She was right.
“We’re both dreaming,” she said. “Together.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?” She began pacing again. “It would seem impossible for there to be a monster in the woods, or gods who control day and night. It would seem impossible for Tarley—a poor woman from Sevens—to marry a prince, or for Auri to have saved a god from a spell.”
She was right again.
“Why not?” she asked. “For the sake of argument.”
Luc nodded. “Okay. I concede.”
She stopped pacing and faced him. “Whatever is happening here is different. I’ve been trying to work it out since we met before?—”
