29. Impossible

Dreams are intimate. Precious.

There are dreams that leave you energized, and others that leave you longing. Now that I know they're meant to fill a well of magic in the shadow realm, I'm nervous to fall asleep.

Moonlight streams through the thick glass of the castle windows as I shift from one side to the other in my tiny bed. The hearth is quiet, and it's been hours since I finished the discarded book on the bedside table. Now that I've gotten used to sleeping in thin, silk gowns, the rough wool of my thigh-high socks is even more itchy than before, and I fight off the urge to scratch my legs.

I do not want my soul to leave my body and err to the Dreaming, but, as my training with Two taught me, the sleeping mind does whatever the hell it wants, and before I know it, I'm standing in the middle of a golden corn field in my yellow country dress.

A red and black checkered picnic blanket lays in the middle of the small clearing behind the summer house, the sun low on the horizon. A bushel of grapes and the neck of a champagne bottle stick out of a wicker basket at my feet.

What the crops?

One stands on the opposite side of the blanket, studying the scene.

"What are you doing here?" I ask. Ever since One carried me to bed during Foghar, I haven't caught a glance of him. I watch for his reaction, trying to discern if he's truly here or not.

"I came to visit you. Are you expecting somebody?" he makes a casual gesture toward the picnic, and I hold back a nervous laugh.

Am I expecting company in a dream?I glance down at the wine and fruits. "I don't know. You're the expert. Are you really here, or am I only dreaming of you?"

"Let's find out." He leans in, taking me completely by surprise, and kisses me softly on the lips.

The simple way he reaches out for me—like it's normal—makes my heart swell, and I stand on the tip of my toes.

He presses his forehead to mine, not deepening the kiss but giving me time to take it all in instead. "Did that feel real enough to you?"

"Yes," I answer without a trace of self-consciousness. He lies down on the blanket and pats the empty space next to him, but I hesitate. "What's happening? Where did you disappear to after Foghar?"

He shifts to his side, his elbow propped beneath him. "I had business to take care of in the new world."

"Did it have anything to do with Mara?"

He chuckles a little too warmly in response, and my eyes narrow. It feels too real to be a dream, and yet…

That's not One.

Without giving him time to react, I kneel down next to him and peel off his black and white mask.

His irises gleam in the sun—a twist of gold and silver—and I wonder if he's incapable of faking One's eyes, or if he's simply forgotten what they look like.

I offer the impostor a wry smile. "Hello, Two."

A wicked grin transforms his face, betraying his true identity. "Well played." He glances around the gardens. "I was curious to see what you dreamed about, princess. I was right to believe you didn't crave holy matrimony with your vapid duke."

"This doesn't mean?—"

"It means everything." With an evil wink, Two drapes himself over me and pins me down to the ground with his weight, holding my wrists above my head. "But you can't have One."

Eyes closed in a mix of confusion and shame, I squirm under his hold, trying to break free, but my treacherous body warms in response to his.

"I heard you the other day, and I don't care what you think. I don't belong to the king," I growl.

A maniacal laugh quakes his chest like this is all a big joke, and he drags his nose along the curve of my neck. "You crack me up, Old World."

I force a lump down my throat. In spite of it all, I'm still caught in the haze of the illusion, and my mind drifts back to the similar way One pinned me to my bed. Their bodies and mannerism are even more similar in the Dreaming, but I hate myself for the heat plaguing my belly and the desire coursing through my veins. "What did you do to Mara after Three slept with her?"

Two leans closer, his hot breath caressing my collarbone. "Mara played her part. Are you ready to play yours?"

In a blink, the blue sky darkens into night, the golden scenery suddenly bathed in moonlight like the colors were suddenly painted over by a shadow.

A raven crows overhead, and a chilly wind blows past my ankles as One ripples out of the darkness. His informal clothes—jeans and a black shirt—are the same as the ones he wore the last time I saw him, when he caught me snooping.

"Leave her alone," he snarls at his brother.

He's technically the nightmare, crashing a dream, yet he's everything but. He looks fierce, perched on the balls of his feet, ready to fight his brother off me. And hopefully take his place.

Two scatters to his feet, but he doesn't flee. "Don't act all territorial with me. Three will train her next. Do you expect me to believe she will pass his test as she is now?"

The shadows thicken around us as One pushes his brother away from the blanket. "Leave us, or by Morpheus?—"

"Do you hear yourself? Have you forgotten what happened the last time a woman came between us?"

Smoke rises from One's body, the pulse of his anger palpable. "Leave! Now!"

A ripple of light and smoke glitches over Two's body, and he vanishes as though he was shoved out of the Dreaming by his brother's powers.

One finally angles his mask to me. "I'm sorry. Two shouldn't have intruded on your break to continue your training. But you passed his test, however cruel and unfortunately scheduled it was."

I hug my knees, willing my ragged breaths to slow down. "I passed?"

"Yes. You recognized the illusion. As soon as you wake up, you will be ready for the third and final part of your training."

"Fantasies."

He gives me a sharp nod. "As cruel as they can be."

I swallow down the lump in my throat and push aside the skirt of my dress, making space for him on the blanket. "Please stay for a little while."

"I really shouldn't," he says, but he sits beside me all the same, taking in our surroundings. The leaves of the willow tree bristle above us, the fields of corn stretching as far as the eye can see. One's fingers twitch over the tartan blanket. "Oh kitten…why would you dream of me?"

I nudge his side. "Admit it. You missed me, too."

"I—You missed me?" He fails to mask a smile, and a soft chuckle escapes me.

"I did." I shift to my knees beside him and keep my hands in my lap. "Why do you hide from me?"

"I had to hunt alone the last couple of weeks. For the one who weaved the Dreamcatcher spider." He angles his chin to the ground, and the small tilt makes him look nervous and almost…timid. "And honestly it's easier…not to see you every day," he finally adds.

I'd be crushed if it wasn't for the desire rumbling right beneath the surface of the words. Feeling bold, I peel off his scarred mask, and he lets me. My voice cracks, my feelings for him taking a life of their own. "Why can't you be my teacher? You're better than them. Stronger than the king himself."

He leans forward and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "How do you figure that?"

"When the king freezes us, you only pretend to be under his control."

A sinister shard twinkles in his golden eyes. "I'm weak. If I wasn't, I wouldn't be here with you."

The sentence quickens my breath and squeezes my belly with need. He might be infuriating and stubborn—and completely off-limits—but I want him. Most of all, I crave the kind and hard-working man that hides beneath the mask of the severe, unfeeling hunter. I've caught enough glimpses of him by now to know he's real.

"Your emotions don't make you weak, One," I say.

"They do if they make me want to break my promises." He stares into the distance. "An old friend of mine wrote a famous quote. True love transcends crowns, blood, and flesh. Love has?—"

"No masters, only slaves," I cut in. "It stings too fast for you to see, and when you recognize its scorpion's tail, you're already dead."

"You've read Delusions of Winter?"

"Five times. It's the first Fae book I ever read. My mother gave it to me when I turned sixteen, about a month before she died."

His brows lift. "Your father let you keep Fae poetry in his library?"

I press my lips together, torn between the instinct to defend my father for his beliefs, and my own twisted emotions about them. "He knew I had to learn more about this realm. A lot of books were…cautionary tales. Delusions of Winter was romantic." I glance down, unable to look at his beautiful face while we discuss this.

"You find depressing poetry romantic?" It's a rhetorical question, and when I don't answer, he adds, "It's Elio's most famous collection of poems. His queen died about fifty years ago and since then, he hasn't been the most joyful fella."

I swallow the hard lump in my throat, my gaze stuck on a red thread of wool sticking out of the blanket. "Grief is hard."

"How did your mother die?" he asks softly.

The question throws me off guard. "She went out riding one morning and didn't come back. They found her body the next day. At the bottom of the ravine."

He wraps an arm around me, and I hide my face in the crook of his neck. We stay like this for a few minutes, breathing together, and I wonder if I can actually smell him, or if the hints of pears and charcoal are just figments of my imagination.

"I get that you're not allowed to get too close to me, but we're not really here…" I trace the arch of his split brow, and he shudders at the touch.

He doesn't stop me when I close the distance between us and cover his mouth with mine. Warm and soft lips greet me, and with a small grunt of defeat, he dives in for a deeper kiss. The brush of his tongue slithers deep in my belly. He tastes of sweet wine and oak barrels, but with a hint of scorched earth.

A touch of agony.

Last time we kissed, it was unexpected. Now, there's no denying how hungry we both were for it to happen again.

I push him down on the blanket and straddle him, his shirt riding up to his navel. He holds me close, learning the curves of my waist, and I use a burst of magic to switch my heavy, bothersome dress with the black, stretchy undergarments of my hunter's uniform. "Isn't this better?"

One growls at the sudden change, his hands now flush on my hips, and digs his fingers in the flesh of my ass without shame. "Better for crossing lines that shouldn't be crossed."

I burn for him, the feel of his muscular body driving me to insanity. His chest is a treasure trove, the ridge of his stomach hard and delicious beneath my fingers. The fullness between my thighs is unbearable, and I grind myself against him to add friction to the ache. By the Mother, I wish…

My lids flutter. "I need more. Please."

He flips us over so I'm pressed between the rough tartan blanket and his body, the weight of him almost divine. He slides two fingers up my ribs to the elastic of my bra, and the fabric flakes off into nothingness.

His tongue dips into my ear. "Just this once… Because you asked nicely."

He sounds like a wounded beast liberated from its cage. Not at all the voice of a man who's about to surrender.

Hunger simmers at the back of his throat, and his rough kiss steals my thoughts as he covers one breast with his hand and squeezes it. My nipple is so taut and sensitive that I cry out, my back arching off the ground.

The tip of his nose traces a fiery path down the slope of my neck, and a jolt of pleasure pulses between my legs when he sucks my other nipple inside his mouth, the first one now crushed between his index finger and thumb.

It's too much, and I squirm below him, trying to cover myself.

One spreads my thighs open with his legs and holds both arms above my head. "Don't you dare. I want to see all of you."

My dark Fae explores every inch of my chest, his caress rough and yet not careless or random. His lips and tongue are warm and wet, but never sloppy. Like he possesses a detailed map of my body and studied it long before tonight.

"I want to remember every groan of pleasure that passes your lips. Every little detail."

Somehow, him giving me more only makes me feel less satisfied, and a desperate moan parts my lips. "Please."

With a wicked laugh—the sort of sound I'd expect to hear from Two—he slides his hand to the apex of my thigh, inching lower, until he's right where I need him. I feel like a fish dangling off his hook, but still, he denies me.

A tortured breath rushes in. "You're cruel, my dark Fae." A long finger pushes inside me, and my head snaps back to the blanket. "So cruel…"

"Shh." His eyes burn as he drags across my heated flesh in lazy strokes. "Look at me, kitten, and relax your thighs."

I obey, and he wets his bottom lip, his eyes full of pride and mischief.

He has the map to those depths, too, hitting just the right spot with just the right pressure, back and forth. The sensations are like nothing I've ever experienced. Under One's touch, I'm not the same. I'm impatient and greedy and a little mad. A storm of fire rolls in, invading my belly, chest, skin, and soul.

He drinks in each and every single one of my sounds and praises me for them until my lips tremble, the pleasure sharp and heady. The storm spills out to the tip of my toes with a violent quake.

"Oh!" The pleasure radiates all over, and I draw in a sharp breath, the madness receding, replaced by a tentative sense of peace.

But still, I yearn…

The friction of One's clothes on my bare skin fills me with rage. My fingers reach for his belt, but he shackles my wrists to stop me.

I tug against his hold. "Let go of me. I'm getting my revenge." After what he did to me, he can't expect me to just sit there and let him get away with it. Best believe me, I'm going to make that Fae beg.

This is just a dream. If we crossed that line in the Dreaming, then it wouldn't count, would it?

"By the spindle, kitten. I want to take you right here." He squeezes my hands. "But I can't."

"Can't? Or won't?" Our noses bump. "Is it true that you can't marry as long as the king remains single?"

A touch of regret colors his eyes. "Yes."

Holy horses!His gaze falls on something behind me, but when I crane my neck around, I only catch a glimpse of smoke billowing through the strands of wheat. He lets go of my hands and retreats by a few inches.

Cold air washes over me, and I cover my bare breasts with one arm, exposed and vulnerable. "And does the king want to marry me?" I ask, my voice barely recognizable.

He observes me with dark eyes and a darker frown. I almost think he's going to answer, but he moves to disentangle himself from my embrace instead. "I have to leave."

I grip his shirt to delay his escape. "What happened to the king? Why does he need to court me? Is he really going to lose his crown?"

"Lose his crown?" his face hardens. Thick shadows hover around him, agitated and dangerous. The tendrils of smoke cradle my skin. "Who's putting these ideas in your head? Is it Joseph?"

"Don't be like that." I cup the side of his face. I need him to focus on me. "I don't want Jo. Or the king." A blazing heat creeps up my chest. "I want you."

A dry chuckle rocks his throat, and he shakes his head like I'm losing my mind. "Oh, kitten… What you want is impossible."