29 Tarts (1/2)

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.