Page 11 of Thief of Dreams
And he's the typical predatory fae male.
They prefer to be the pursuer, not the pursued.
I just posted an enormous glowing dare above my head.
Perhaps I can scare him off?
"I would justloveto explore the gardens with you," I say in a voice dripping with sweetness as I accept his arm. "What lady would not care for such delightful,exclusivecompany?"
It's clear he doesn't quite know what to make of this statement as he leads me toward the gardens. I burble a handful of answers to his vague questions on the way, careful to smile a little too widely and bat my eyelashes whenever he looks at me.
I'll make him regret this little sojourn.
Fey lanterns glimmer through the trees. Leashed lightning, they call it, and it casts a soft blue glow over everything.
Once again, the shock of his appearance takes my breath.
He towers over me by a good five inches.
His eyes seem laced with silver tonight, instead of their usual gold. Lightning dances in those stormy depths, hinting at the turbulence within, as he watches me. "What do you think? Do the gardens hold up to your expectations?"
We're not talking about gardens.
"The gardens areeverythingI expected them to be."
"You seem disappointed."
"I'm not. The Court of Dreams is lovely." I turn to a rose and brush my fingers over its satiny petals. "It's just.... It doesn't feel real, in some way. Everything's too perfect. There are no blemishes. No slight imperfections. Did you notice every rose has the exact same number of petals? And not a single thorn. This is a dreamscape, isn't it? You created this."
As if to prove my point, the golden medallion around his throat winks in the light. "Yes. You do not like it?"
"Of course I like it. It's perfection. But it's not real."
"You're not interested in illusions?" he asks as he steps closer.
"I'm not interested in lies."
Reaching out, he brushes his hands over my eyes, and I close them. Thumbs caress my eyelids, but it's not merely a sensuous feeling. It feels like he's brushing cobwebs from my eyes.
"Open," he whispers, "and see the truth."
Color drains from the world around us as I blink. The fine details smudge, the lines blur, and then.... Then I'm looking at a world of imperfection. The roses still nod and beckon, but they're no longer uniformly perfect. Crushed petals roam underfoot. Vines snake up the cracked stone walls that enclose the garden.
It's wild and untamed, and still beautiful.
Perhaps even more so, for its realness.
"Oh, my," I reply, taking two unsteady steps forward and trailing my fingers over the petals. "How much of this place was created by you?"
"All of it," he replies, and there's something in his eyes as he looks across the gardens himself. "Haven't you realized why it's so difficult to get into the Court of Dreams? It's not real. It's a world within a world, and I rule it."
"Just as difficult to escape it, I presume?"
His smile holds an edge. "If I will it, yes. It is not merely dreams I can twist."
Nightmares, too.
Wraith's balls. I just walked into a trap. One that can snap closed at any moment.
