Page 78 of Never the Roses

He smiled, a flicker, mostly sorrowful. “No, I’m sorry. I pulled you from the peace of your white walls for nothing.”

“Not for nothing.” As she said the words, she realized the truth of them. “For a dream,” she said, smiling at the wordplay. “We both made decisions for the right reasons, with the best of intentions.”

He dropped his hands but still looked harshly tired, his smile rueful. “There are sayings about good intentions leading to bad places.”

“Those are about intentions without commitment,” she replied, very seriously. “About capricious choices and surface appearance, not engaging wholeheartedly in a plan to make a positive change.”

“What are you planning, Oneira?” he asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Even in your dream self, I can see that you are up to something—and that I won’t like it.”

“Thisisthe real me, so you see truly. Tell me…” She hesitated. “You’ve tried everything to stop this war from your end.”

“Except for one,” he said abruptly, leaning forward.

A flurry of hope whirled through her. He’d thought of something she hadn’t.

“You can trap me here in the Dream, can’t you?” he asked.

She regarded him with genuine horror. “I would not do that. Not to you.” She wanted to say not to anyone, but that was perhaps not true. “Never to you.”

“You have to,” he replied with urgency, flexing his hands as if he longed to take hold of her. His fierce face took on a light of determination, the radiance of the martyr set on self-sacrifice. She recognized it well. “I thought thatwithyou, the war couldn’t happen, but I was wrong. The truth is thatwithout me, it cannot happen.”

Stunned, she attempted to think of an argument against that. He had indeed thought of something she hadn’t. Except that it was the one thing she couldn’t do. All this time she’d had a list in her mind of everything she’d resolved never to do again. Now it turned out that she would do any of those things, and the one that was complete anathema had never made it onto the list. Hadn’t even been conceivable.

He was likely right. Without Stearanos, Crown Prince Mirza had no hope of succeeding in his conquest.

Stearanos saw her waver, nodding emphatically. “You see the truth of it. Trap me here in this garden you’ve created. You can come and visit me. We can at least talk. It wouldn’t be so bad. It’s peaceful here, and so lovely. Are those truly Veredian roses in bloom—is that how they look?”

“That’s how I imagine they look,” she answered, feeling a desperate grief shredding her from within, a violent storm eroding the cliffs of her resolve. “I’ve never seen one bloom.”

“They’re so beautiful,” he said wistfully. “Even if I can never see them in life, you’ve given them to me here. It’s a gift beyond price. Keep me here. Let me never wake up.”

“Stearanos, listen to me: you can’t dwell in the Dream. No one can. The human mind isn’t meant to dream forever. You’ll go insane. And your body won’t survive being untenanted.”

He shrugged, giving the appearance of nonchalance she knew wasn’t real. “So I’ll eventually pass into death. It’s no more than I deserve, Oneira. You, of all people, would understand that.”

“I do understand.” And she did. But she loved him too much to sacrifice him, no matter how great the cause. “I brought you here so we could say goodbye.”

“Goodbye? Then you won’t visit me here. That’s all right. I understand.”

“I’m not consigning you to the Dream. No, don’t argue. My mind is made up. I only wanted…” She let out a sigh. “You were right about Tristan. Only that’s not his true name. The queen sent him to seduce me back to her side.”

No vindicated pleasure from Stearanos. Instead he winced. “I’m so sorry. I know you were fond of him.”

“As one might be of a foundling puppy,” she replied, then had to be honest, even now, even in the Dream. Particularly in the Dream. “The betrayal hurt, however, and I had to know—you and me, Stearanos, was it real?”

“As real as any dream can be,” he answered with gravity. “If you’re asking if I was only in this to manipulate you, remember that you came to me first. I didn’t expect you either, Oneira, but I wouldn’t change anything.” He grimaced. “Except that I’d make it so my plan worked.”

“If your prince disappeared.” She posed the question carefully. “If he vanished, would another step into his place to wage this war?”

“You can’t do that,” Stearanos said, reaching for her futilely. “You vowed never to murder again.”

“I perceive that the answer to my question is no,” she said evenly. She’d known as much. The queen’s spies had spoken truly: the old king had no other designated heirs. Instead multiple candidates would jostle for the throne. The kingdom wouldbe thrown into chaos, likely fragmenting with the infighting. There would be war and death—inevitable with the world they lived in—but Stearanos could perhaps stop some of it.

“Don’t do this, Oneira,” Stearanos begged, his face a rictus of grief and fear. “Not for me.”

“I can’t consign you to the Dream, Em,” she said softly, resolute in at least this. “Perhaps that solution makes the most sense, but my heart won’t allow it. I love you too much.”

He stared at her, thunderstruck, joy and revulsion warring with each other. “I’ve longed to hear those words from you, but not like this. Please don’t sacrifice yourself to save me. I’m not worth it.”

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