Chapter 29
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She arrived at Arren's office to find him sitting on the couch, a book in his hand, and a tray of sweets in front of him. Ilun perked up at the sight of them, passing by Isilla to gain access to the food. Arren's shadows reared up, stopping his advances.
"Ilun," she called and he reluctantly came back to her side.
"Come sit with me, Isilla. We have to talk," Arren said closing the book and setting it aside.
She crossed the room and sat on the couch, folding her hands over her book on her lap. Their dinner had been pleasant the night before but she wasn't at all sure that his mood between now and then would remain the same.
"I won't yell at you Isilla. I can't make things better between us by losing my temper," he said.
She nodded in agreement.
"Here, a gift. I had tarts made, just for you," Arren's sly smile confirming that the treat was no coincidence.
Her face fell, caught.
"Don't look at me like that. I know you've gone to the library, I know you looked up the letters. I'm not angry, I understand, you want to find the person who meant so much to you but, did you ever consider that maybe I'm trying to protect you?"
Why would I think that, she wrote.
He closed his eyes and crossed his arms, sighing, "Of course you wouldn't. I suppose no one would but I really do not want to see you be hurt. Everything that has happened to you has not been your fault, you have very little control over the circumstances you've found yourself in. But you were right, we are married, that cannot change, so we should try to be friends. To be honest with one another."
Do you think I'm hiding something, she wrote.
He thought for a moment, "No, but I don't want you to start."
Then you should stop, she replied.
He smiled, "I will. When I am sure that you won't break when you find out. For now, don't you think we should concentrate on him and this?
He opened his hand, shadows swirling briefly before revealing the silver ring.
I don't know how I did these things,she wrote, frowning.
"Then tell me what happened."
She motioned for him to sit next to her so that he could read as she wrote. She described the dreams to him, starting with the her first visit including the kiss, leaving nothing out. She paused for questions, glancing up at his face and he shook his head, willing her to continue. Next she explained the dream with the drawers, why she gave him the ring.
Giving the dreamer what they are looking for gives them a better dream, she explained, it doesn't have to be the exact thing.
"So you really did mean me no harm. And you've never had someone wake up like me, convinced of a truth that cannot be true."
How do you know that's not your mother's ring, Isilla asked.
"Because my mother only ever had one ring," her looked downward at his own hands, pulling up the memory of the correct ring. "It was gold with a black stone on it. A gift from my father for giving birth to me. So we can assume that your power can manipulate memory to some extent but it cannot read them."
I wasn't trying, she explained.
"I know little bird. So your pet, he is built in part from my power only not. Is that why he can walk through the shadows? He must have followed you which means he has some way of tracking you. To make these dreams real, can you do this with anyone else or just me?"
Just you that I know of, she paused considering for a moment before continuing. But there's this woman who speaks to me in the Veil. She calls me Sorgia.
"Do you know what that means?" he asked tapping the word.
Isilla shook her head.
"It's from the old language. I think it means 'sun' but I haven't looked at anything written in that in years," he caught her confusion. "It's part of our basic education. All the royal children learn it."
She nodded.
"What does this woman say? What is she? Another dreamweaver?" he asked pulling the conversation back.
I think she's a ghost, Isilla wrote.
"What?" Arren asked, laughter in his throat.
I know how it sounds but, it's hard to explain, if you could see her you would know, her words filled the page, clumsy.
"Alright, then she's a ghost, come to call you a strange name? What else did she tell you?"
She stilled, her pen above the page.
He put his hand on her head, "We agreed."
Sighing she continued. Something is happening to me. I'm changing so I'm not like a normal dreamweaver. She said that I have to bind myself to someone in order to keep from being overwhelmed by this power.
"Ah, that's why you're looking for the person who wrote you. This, binding, it is intimate, is it not?" Arren asked.
She nodded, embarrassed.
"But the person who wrote you, you may not like them," he said softly.
I know, she wrote.
"And if you don't? What will you do then?"
The shade said it should be you, she wrote.
"Hmm," he hummed, "How much time do you have?"
A few weeks, she answered, I'll be fine until then.
"Then I'll tell you then. The treaty will be finalized, so it still meets our agreement. If you don't like the answer then you can do this binding with me to save your life, alright?"
You don't know what it is, she wrote.
"It doesn't matter," he replied. "I know without it, you'll die. Regardless of how we feel about each other, it is my duty to protect my wife."
The sincerity of his words made her smile despite herself, still, something still troubled her. Why didn't you stop Elixabete, she wrote.
He rubbed his face, "It wasn't that I didn't want to stop her, Isilla, it was just that I wasn't sure what to do. She was with child, I didn't want to hurt her and despite how I may have looked, I was very surprised. You didn't ask about that."
You said that you had never been with a woman, she wrote.
He smiled, "And you believed me?"
Were you lying, she asked.
He shook his head, "No."
Do you not like women? Is that why you said you could never love me? Then why did you kiss me in the dream and in my bedroom the other night, she asked ignoring her nerves.
His wide eyes stared back at her, her words catching him off guard. He released a long breath and propped his chin in his palm for a moment before speaking again. "I find you a very agreeable match but perhaps you will understand better if I show you. May I kiss you?"
Her turn for shook, she could only nod slowly. How can I say no to my husband's kiss, she thought as he crossed the couch, pulling her into his arms.
"Close your eyes," he said.
Eyes closed, his lips touched hers.
He held her tighter as the touch moved from the light meeting of lips to something deeper, his tongue slipping past her lips to meet with hers. He kissed her deeply, possessively, his hands pulling her closer, tilting her head up to meet his.
He lowered her, the sensation of the movement secondary to the feel of his mouth on hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, as she had in the dream but this time, the shoulders under them were real.
He pulled his hand from her behind her neck, covering her eyes and letting her settle on the arm rest as his lips trailed along her cheek to her neck. She gasped at the touch of them. Along her body she could feel his shadows rolling over her, reaching under her heavy skirts and sleeves, feeling her skin. She sighed and shivered at their touch, her body reacting on it's own.
Arren stopped at her ear, "Open your eyes, little bird."
She gasped and tightened her hands on his shirt. Above her, only darkness, a thick mass of shadows so deep that they hid the ceiling and swallowed the light.
"It is not a question of desire or ability," his voice thick and low in her ear, he spoke quickly, his shadows still moving along her skin. "I am entirely capable of feeling and making love but what I cannot do is control this in your arms."
He pulled her closer his voice still low but gentle, "And because I cannot control it, I can't be sure it won't hurt you."
He breathed against her skin and the shadows disappeared, the light returning as he pulled away from her. "You know who I am, you've heard all the stories I'm sure. I don't know how they tell it where you're from but I lost control of my magic because I was scared and angry and I pulled a thousand people into a darkness they could never come back from. I never want to do that again."
That's why he stopped himself on our wedding night, she thought.
People have been telling that story for my entire life. How old are you, she asked.
"I'm twenty-eight. I did that when I was five. I can't let it happen again," he said.
You were just a child, she wrote.
"And I'm not now," he replied.
He stood, turning away from her, his voice cold and formal, "Please, enjoy the tarts. I will leave you now, we've discussed what we needed. We understand each other's positions better."
She leaned, reaching across the couch and grabbed his hand. He looked down at it, lifting it slightly before she released it and picked up her book.
Don't go. Play the picture game with me for a little while, she wrote.
He smiled and sat, "Alright."
She picked up a tart, a tiny pie with thick fruit filling. As she bit, the filling spilled, falling to her chin. Arren handed her a napkin, a strange expression on his face, one that she couldn't read.
"Careful," he said softly.
I should be, she thought, her heart fluttering as he began to draw the first picture.
Please report us if you find any errors so we can fix it asap!
She arrived at Arren's office to find him sitting on the couch, a book in his hand, and a tray of sweets in front of him. Ilun perked up at the sight of them, passing by Isilla to gain access to the food. Arren's shadows reared up, stopping his advances.
"Ilun," she called and he reluctantly came back to her side.
"Come sit with me, Isilla. We have to talk," Arren said closing the book and setting it aside.
She crossed the room and sat on the couch, folding her hands over her book on her lap. Their dinner had been pleasant the night before but she wasn't at all sure that his mood between now and then would remain the same.
"I won't yell at you Isilla. I can't make things better between us by losing my temper," he said.
She nodded in agreement.
"Here, a gift. I had tarts made, just for you," Arren's sly smile confirming that the treat was no coincidence.
Her face fell, caught.
"Don't look at me like that. I know you've gone to the library, I know you looked up the letters. I'm not angry, I understand, you want to find the person who meant so much to you but, did you ever consider that maybe I'm trying to protect you?"
Why would I think that, she wrote.
He closed his eyes and crossed his arms, sighing, "Of course you wouldn't. I suppose no one would but I really do not want to see you be hurt. Everything that has happened to you has not been your fault, you have very little control over the circumstances you've found yourself in. But you were right, we are married, that cannot change, so we should try to be friends. To be honest with one another."
Do you think I'm hiding something, she wrote.
He thought for a moment, "No, but I don't want you to start."
Then you should stop, she replied.
He smiled, "I will. When I am sure that you won't break when you find out. For now, don't you think we should concentrate on him and this?
He opened his hand, shadows swirling briefly before revealing the silver ring.
I don't know how I did these things,she wrote, frowning.
"Then tell me what happened."
She motioned for him to sit next to her so that he could read as she wrote. She described the dreams to him, starting with the her first visit including the kiss, leaving nothing out. She paused for questions, glancing up at his face and he shook his head, willing her to continue. Next she explained the dream with the drawers, why she gave him the ring.
Giving the dreamer what they are looking for gives them a better dream, she explained, it doesn't have to be the exact thing.
"So you really did mean me no harm. And you've never had someone wake up like me, convinced of a truth that cannot be true."
How do you know that's not your mother's ring, Isilla asked.
"Because my mother only ever had one ring," her looked downward at his own hands, pulling up the memory of the correct ring. "It was gold with a black stone on it. A gift from my father for giving birth to me. So we can assume that your power can manipulate memory to some extent but it cannot read them."
I wasn't trying, she explained.
"I know little bird. So your pet, he is built in part from my power only not. Is that why he can walk through the shadows? He must have followed you which means he has some way of tracking you. To make these dreams real, can you do this with anyone else or just me?"
Just you that I know of, she paused considering for a moment before continuing. But there's this woman who speaks to me in the Veil. She calls me Sorgia.
"Do you know what that means?" he asked tapping the word.
Isilla shook her head.
"It's from the old language. I think it means 'sun' but I haven't looked at anything written in that in years," he caught her confusion. "It's part of our basic education. All the royal children learn it."
She nodded.
"What does this woman say? What is she? Another dreamweaver?" he asked pulling the conversation back.
I think she's a ghost, Isilla wrote.
"What?" Arren asked, laughter in his throat.
I know how it sounds but, it's hard to explain, if you could see her you would know, her words filled the page, clumsy.
"Alright, then she's a ghost, come to call you a strange name? What else did she tell you?"
She stilled, her pen above the page.
He put his hand on her head, "We agreed."
Sighing she continued. Something is happening to me. I'm changing so I'm not like a normal dreamweaver. She said that I have to bind myself to someone in order to keep from being overwhelmed by this power.
"Ah, that's why you're looking for the person who wrote you. This, binding, it is intimate, is it not?" Arren asked.
She nodded, embarrassed.
"But the person who wrote you, you may not like them," he said softly.
I know, she wrote.
"And if you don't? What will you do then?"
The shade said it should be you, she wrote.
"Hmm," he hummed, "How much time do you have?"
A few weeks, she answered, I'll be fine until then.
"Then I'll tell you then. The treaty will be finalized, so it still meets our agreement. If you don't like the answer then you can do this binding with me to save your life, alright?"
You don't know what it is, she wrote.
"It doesn't matter," he replied. "I know without it, you'll die. Regardless of how we feel about each other, it is my duty to protect my wife."
The sincerity of his words made her smile despite herself, still, something still troubled her. Why didn't you stop Elixabete, she wrote.
He rubbed his face, "It wasn't that I didn't want to stop her, Isilla, it was just that I wasn't sure what to do. She was with child, I didn't want to hurt her and despite how I may have looked, I was very surprised. You didn't ask about that."
You said that you had never been with a woman, she wrote.
He smiled, "And you believed me?"
Were you lying, she asked.
He shook his head, "No."
Do you not like women? Is that why you said you could never love me? Then why did you kiss me in the dream and in my bedroom the other night, she asked ignoring her nerves.
His wide eyes stared back at her, her words catching him off guard. He released a long breath and propped his chin in his palm for a moment before speaking again. "I find you a very agreeable match but perhaps you will understand better if I show you. May I kiss you?"
Her turn for shook, she could only nod slowly. How can I say no to my husband's kiss, she thought as he crossed the couch, pulling her into his arms.
"Close your eyes," he said.
Eyes closed, his lips touched hers.
He held her tighter as the touch moved from the light meeting of lips to something deeper, his tongue slipping past her lips to meet with hers. He kissed her deeply, possessively, his hands pulling her closer, tilting her head up to meet his.
He lowered her, the sensation of the movement secondary to the feel of his mouth on hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, as she had in the dream but this time, the shoulders under them were real.
He pulled his hand from her behind her neck, covering her eyes and letting her settle on the arm rest as his lips trailed along her cheek to her neck. She gasped at the touch of them. Along her body she could feel his shadows rolling over her, reaching under her heavy skirts and sleeves, feeling her skin. She sighed and shivered at their touch, her body reacting on it's own.
Arren stopped at her ear, "Open your eyes, little bird."
She gasped and tightened her hands on his shirt. Above her, only darkness, a thick mass of shadows so deep that they hid the ceiling and swallowed the light.
"It is not a question of desire or ability," his voice thick and low in her ear, he spoke quickly, his shadows still moving along her skin. "I am entirely capable of feeling and making love but what I cannot do is control this in your arms."
He pulled her closer his voice still low but gentle, "And because I cannot control it, I can't be sure it won't hurt you."
He breathed against her skin and the shadows disappeared, the light returning as he pulled away from her. "You know who I am, you've heard all the stories I'm sure. I don't know how they tell it where you're from but I lost control of my magic because I was scared and angry and I pulled a thousand people into a darkness they could never come back from. I never want to do that again."
That's why he stopped himself on our wedding night, she thought.
People have been telling that story for my entire life. How old are you, she asked.
"I'm twenty-eight. I did that when I was five. I can't let it happen again," he said.
You were just a child, she wrote.
"And I'm not now," he replied.
He stood, turning away from her, his voice cold and formal, "Please, enjoy the tarts. I will leave you now, we've discussed what we needed. We understand each other's positions better."
She leaned, reaching across the couch and grabbed his hand. He looked down at it, lifting it slightly before she released it and picked up her book.
Don't go. Play the picture game with me for a little while, she wrote.
He smiled and sat, "Alright."
She picked up a tart, a tiny pie with thick fruit filling. As she bit, the filling spilled, falling to her chin. Arren handed her a napkin, a strange expression on his face, one that she couldn't read.
"Careful," he said softly.
I should be, she thought, her heart fluttering as he began to draw the first picture.
She arrived at Arren's office to find him sitting on the couch, a book in his hand, and a tray of sweets in front of him. Ilun perked up at the sight of them, passing by Isilla to gain access to the food. Arren's shadows reared up, stopping his advances."Ilun," she called and he reluctantly came back to her side."Come sit with me, Isilla. We have to talk," Arren said closing the book and setting it aside.She crossed the room and sat on the couch, folding her hands over her book on her lap. Their dinner had been pleasant the night before but she wasn't at all sure that his mood between now and then would remain the same."I won't yell at you Isilla. I can't make things better between us by losing my temper," he said.She nodded in agreement."Here, a gift. I had tarts made, just for you," Arren's sly smile confirming that the treat was no coincidence.Her face fell, caught."Don't look at me like that. I know you've gone to the library, I know you looked up the letters. I'm not angry, I understand, you want to find the person who meant so much to you but, did you ever consider that maybe I'm trying to protect you?"Why would I think that, she wrote.He closed his eyes and crossed his arms, sighing, "Of course you wouldn't. I suppose no one would but I really do not want to see you be hurt. Everything that has happened to you has not been your fault, you have very little control over the circumstances you've found yourself in. But you were right, we are married, that cannot change, so we should try to be friends. To be honest with one another."Do you think I'm hiding something, she wrote.He thought for a moment, "No, but I don't want you to start."Then you should stop, she replied.He smiled, "I will. When I am sure that you won't break when you find out. For now, don't you think we should concentrate on him and this?He opened his hand, shadows swirling briefly before revealing the silver ring.I don't know how I did these things,she wrote, frowning."Then tell me what happened."She motioned for him to sit next to her so that he could read as she wrote. She described the dreams to him, starting with the her first visit including the kiss, leaving nothing out. She paused for questions, glancing up at his face and he shook his head, willing her to continue. Next she explained the dream with the drawers, why she gave him the ring.Giving the dreamer what they are looking for gives them a better dream, she explained, it doesn't have to be the exact thing."So you really did mean me no harm. And you've never had someone wake up like me, convinced of a truth that cannot be true."How do you know that's not your mother's ring, Isilla asked."Because my mother only ever had one ring," her looked downward at his own hands, pulling up the memory of the correct ring. "It was gold with a black stone on it. A gift from my father for giving birth to me. So we can assume that your power can manipulate memory to some extent but it cannot read them."I wasn't trying, she explained."I know little bird. So your pet, he is built in part from my power only not. Is that why he can walk through the shadows? He must have followed you which means he has some way of tracking you. To make these dreams real, can you do this with anyone else or just me?"Just you that I know of, she paused considering for a moment before continuing. But there's this woman who speaks to me in the Veil. She calls me Sorgia."Do you know what that means?" he asked tapping the word.Isilla shook her head."It's from the old language. I think it means 'sun' but I haven't looked at anything written in that in years," he caught her confusion. "It's part of our basic education. All the royal children learn it."She nodded."What does this woman say? What is she? Another dreamweaver?" he asked pulling the conversation back.I think she's a ghost, Isilla wrote."What?" Arren asked, laughter in his throat.I know how it sounds but, it's hard to explain, if you could see her you would know, her words filled the page, clumsy."Alright, then she's a ghost, come to call you a strange name? What else did she tell you?"She stilled, her pen above the page.He put his hand on her head, "We agreed."Sighing she continued. Something is happening to me. I'm changing so I'm not like a normal dreamweaver. She said that I have to bind myself to someone in order to keep from being overwhelmed by this power."Ah, that's why you're looking for the person who wrote you. This, binding, it is intimate, is it not?" Arren asked.She nodded, embarrassed."But the person who wrote you, you may not like them," he said softly.I know, she wrote."And if you don't? What will you do then?"The shade said it should be you, she wrote."Hmm," he hummed, "How much time do you have?"A few weeks, she answered, I'll be fine until then."Then I'll tell you then. The treaty will be finalized, so it still meets our agreement. If you don't like the answer then you can do this binding with me to save your life, alright?"You don't know what it is, she wrote."It doesn't matter," he replied. "I know without it, you'll die. Regardless of how we feel about each other, it is my duty to protect my wife."The sincerity of his words made her smile despite herself, still, something still troubled her. Why didn't you stop Elixabete, she wrote.He rubbed his face, "It wasn't that I didn't want to stop her, Isilla, it was just that I wasn't sure what to do. She was with child, I didn't want to hurt her and despite how I may have looked, I was very surprised. You didn't ask about that."You said that you had never been with a woman, she wrote.He smiled, "And you believed me?"Were you lying, she asked.He shook his head, "No."Do you not like women? Is that why you said you could never love me? Then why did you kiss me in the dream and in my bedroom the other night, she asked ignoring her nerves.His wide eyes stared back at her, her words catching him off guard. He released a long breath and propped his chin in his palm for a moment before speaking again. "I find you a very agreeable match but perhaps you will understand better if I show you. May I kiss you?"Her turn for shook, she could only nod slowly. How can I say no to my husband's kiss, she thought as he crossed the couch, pulling her into his arms."Close your eyes," he said.Eyes closed, his lips touched hers.He held her tighter as the touch moved from the light meeting of lips to something deeper, his tongue slipping past her lips to meet with hers. He kissed her deeply, possessively, his hands pulling her closer, tilting her head up to meet his.He lowered her, the sensation of the movement secondary to the feel of his mouth on hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, as she had in the dream but this time, the shoulders under them were real.He pulled his hand from her behind her neck, covering her eyes and letting her settle on the arm rest as his lips trailed along her cheek to her neck. She gasped at the touch of them. Along her body she could feel his shadows rolling over her, reaching under her heavy skirts and sleeves, feeling her skin. She sighed and shivered at their touch, her body reacting on it's own.Arren stopped at her ear, "Open your eyes, little bird."She gasped and tightened her hands on his shirt. Above her, only darkness, a thick mass of shadows so deep that they hid the ceiling and swallowed the light."It is not a question of desire or ability," his voice thick and low in her ear, he spoke quickly, his shadows still moving along her skin. "I am entirely capable of feeling and making love but what I cannot do is control this in your arms."He pulled her closer his voice still low but gentle, "And because I cannot control it, I can't be sure it won't hurt you."He breathed against her skin and the shadows disappeared, the light returning as he pulled away from her. "You know who I am, you've heard all the stories I'm sure. I don't know how they tell it where you're from but I lost control of my magic because I was scared and angry and I pulled a thousand people into a darkness they could never come back from. I never want to do that again."That's why he stopped himself on our wedding night, she thought.People have been telling that story for my entire life. How old are you, she asked."I'm twenty-eight. I did that when I was five. I can't let it happen again," he said.You were just a child, she wrote."And I'm not now," he replied.He stood, turning away from her, his voice cold and formal, "Please, enjoy the tarts. I will leave you now, we've discussed what we needed. We understand each other's positions better."She leaned, reaching across the couch and grabbed his hand. He looked down at it, lifting it slightly before she released it and picked up her book.Don't go. Play the picture game with me for a little while, she wrote.He smiled and sat, "Alright."She picked up a tart, a tiny pie with thick fruit filling. As she bit, the filling spilled, falling to her chin. Arren handed her a napkin, a strange expression on his face, one that she couldn't read."Careful," he said softly.I should be, she thought, her heart fluttering as he began to draw the first picture.
