But her hands only passed through, and the curtain stayed whole.
Finally, through it, she saw the faint shadow of the house. The spear of its turrets, the sweep of its battlements were softened like wax in the thick air. She ran toward it, sobbing with relief. Then with joy as she saw him standing by the massive doors.
She ran to him now, her arms flung out to embrace, her lips curved for that welcoming kiss.
When her arms passed through him, she understood he was the mist.
And so was she.
She woke weeping and reaching out for him, but the bed beside her was cold and empty. She shivered, though the fire danced cheerfully to warm the room. A dream, just a dream. That was all. But she was cold, and she got out of bed to wrap herself in the thick blue robe.
Where was Flynn? she wondered. They always woke together, almost as if they were tied to each other’s rhythms. She glanced out the windows as she walked toward the fire to warm her chilled hands. The sun was beaming and bright, which explained why Flynn hadn’t been wrapped around her when she woke.
She’d slept away the morning.
Imagine that, she thought with a laugh. Slept away the morning, dreamed away the night. It was so unlike her.
So unlike her, she thought again as her hands stilled. Dreaming. She never remembered her dreams, not even in jumbled pieces. Yet this one she remembered exactly, in every detail, almost as though she’d lived it.
Because she was relaxed, she assured herself. Because her mind was relaxed and open. People were always saying how real dreams could be, weren’t they? She’d never believed that until now.
If hers were going to be that frightening, that heartbreaking, she’d just as soon skip them.
But it was over, and it was a beautiful day. There were no mists blanketing the trees. The flowers were basking in the sunlight, their colors vibrant and true. The clouds that so often stacked themselves in layers over the Irish sky had cleared, leaving a deep and brilliant blue.
She would pick flowers and braid them into Dilis’s mane. Flynn would give her another riding lesson. Later, perhaps she’d begin on the library. It would be fun to prowl through all the books. To explore them and arrange them.
She would not be obsessive about it. She wouldn’t fall into that trap again. The chore would be one of pleasure rather than responsibility.
Throwing open the windows, she leaned out, breathed in the sweet air. “I’ve changed so much already,” she murmured. “I like the person I’m becoming. I can be friends with her.”
She shut her eyes tight. “Mom, I wish I could tell you. I’m so much in love. He makes me so happy. I wish I could let you know, and tell you that I understand now. I wish I could share this with you.”
With a sigh, she stepped back, leaving the windows open.
HE kept himself busy. It was the only way he could get through the day. In his mind, in his heart, he’d said goodbye to her the night before. He’d already let her go.
There was no choice but to let her go.
He could have kept her with him, drawing her into the long days, the endless nights of the next dreaming. His solitude would be broken, the loneliness diminished. And at the end of it, she would be there for that brief week. To touch. To be.
The need for her, the desire to have her close, was the strongest force he’d ever known. But for one.
Love.
Not just with the silken beauty of the dreams he’d shared with her. But with the pains and joys that came from a beating heart.
He would not deny her life, steal from her what she had known, what she would be. How had he ever believed he could? Had he really thought that his own needs, the most selfish and self-serving of them, outweighed the most basic of hers?
To live. To feel heat and cold, hunger, thirst, pleasure and pain.
To watch herself change with the years. To shake the hand of a stranger, embrace a loved one. To make children and watch them grow.
For all his power, all his knowledge, he could give her none of those things. All he had left for her was the gift of freedom.
To comfort himself, he pressed his face to Dilis’s neck, drew in the scents of horse and straw, of oat and leather. How was it he could forget, each time forget the wrenching misery of these last hours? The sheer physical pain of knowing it was all ending again.
He was ending again.
“You’ve always been free. You know I have no claim to keep you here, should you choose to go.” He lifted his head, stroking the stallion’s head as he looked into his eyes. “Carry her away safe for me. And if you go beyond, I’ll not count it against you.”
He stepped back, drew his breath. There was work yet, and the morning was passing fast.
When it was done, the last spell, the thin blanket of forget spread at the edges of his prison, he saw Kayleen in his mind’s eye.