Copper Veins(5)

“Max,” he said, “Walk with me.”

Max snapped to attention, and without another word, the two strode off toward the orchards. Mom stared forlornly after them, but didn’t follow.

“All he did was interrogate me,” Sadie murmured.

“He just wants to get to know you,” I said, trying to soothe her.

“No,” Sadie said, shaking her head. “He didn’t ask any questions about me. He asked about my power, how I’d used it, if anyone at school had ever realized that I was the Inheritor. He asked me who my college professors were, but nothing about me.”

I pursed my lips, not wanting to agree with her. Yeah, Dad had been a bit distant, but he had been gone for a long, long time. Shouldn’t we cut him some slack?

“Beau has changed,” Mom said, her eyes shining. “War…changes people.”

“That it does,” Micah murmured.

And not always for the better.





3


Dimly, I heard my name being whispered. My eyes opened, and I saw Micah sitting next to me. “Hey.”

“And hey to you,” he said. I realized that I was lying on the vine couch in the sitting room. I also noticed the faint glimmer in Micah’s eyes, which meant only one thing.

“You’re dreamwalking?” I asked as I sat up. My physical body was indeed asleep on the couch. I remembered our wedding feast, then Dad walking off with Max, and Mom going to bed alone. Micah and I had tried to go to bed, too, but Sadie wanted to talk about Dad’s return, about how she couldn’t look at this copper-haired man and accept that he was her father. I understood her trepidation—I could hardly remember him myself, but at least I had a few real memories.

Sadie and I had eventually holed up on the couch, and Micah had given us our privacy. After a time, the silverkin had brought us cocoa and a few blankets. I didn’t even remember falling asleep.

“I am,” Micah replied, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

“Where are you?” I asked. In an instant, we were in our bedroom, Micah’s physical body tangled in the sheets.

“We’re sleeping apart on our wedding night?” My dreamself had always been a bit slower than my wakeful self.

“I couldn’t bear to wake you,” Micah murmured, caressing my cheek. “You looked so peaceful, I thought it best to leave you be.”

“You could have carried me up here,” I said, pouting.

“Not without waking Sadie.” He pulled me to the bed. “You had a very hectic day. I would rather you were rested for our first time.”

“It won’t be our first time.”

“As husband and wife it will.” Micah tilted my chin up to his. “My Sara, you make me so very happy. I only wish to make you happy in return.”

“What about now?” I asked, looking at him through my lashes.

“No,” he replied, shaking his head. “It should be with our wakeful forms. I… regret the circumstances surrounding the first time I loved you.”

“You didn’t like it?” I asked, my heart fluttering to the floor.

“On the contrary,” he murmured, his long fingers stroking my collarbone. “I can hardly put into words how wonderful it was.”

“Really?” He couldn’t be serious. “But—”

“But,” he said over me, “my wife deserves more than a dirt floor and a meager fire. I wish to make up for that now.”

“None of that mattered,” I said, gripping his hand. “Only you mattered.” He kissed me then, and wouldn’t you know it, my dreamself yawned right into his mouth.

“I guess I really am tired,” I apologized. Micah kissed my forehead before settling our dreamselves alongside his body.

“In the morning, I will fetch you,” he promised, pulling a blanket across us and snuggling me close. “Then we shall spend the day in this room, ignoring the outside world.” I smiled at that—a whole day of nothing but Micah was like winning the Otherworldly lottery.

“How come our dreamselves can walk through walls and lie on beds?” I asked with a yawn. “And why doesn’t the blanket fall through us?”

“Sleep, love,” Micah murmured.

“But I want to know.”

“Tomorrow,” he murmured. “Tomorrow, we can talk of dreamwalking all day, if you like.”

I snuggled against him, tucking my head beneath his chin. Before I could offer up another witty retort, I was asleep.



A woman’s scream jarred me awake. My eyes flew open, and I saw Sadie on the other end of the couch, wide-eyed and clutching a blanket to her chest as if it were a shield. Before I could ask Sadie what the hell she was squawking about, Mom ran into the sitting room—she’d been the one screaming.