Page 14 of The Winter Prince

But when the Summer Queen had cursed him, she had cursed his body only, not his mind. Which meant that if he wanted to get closer to Kienna, to get to know her without her fear of his beastly nature creating a wall between them, dreamwalking was the only way he could do so. It wasn’t easy—it pulled at his magic and left him fatigued, but it felt necessary.

He took a moment to orient himself to the body he naturally wore in this dream world—his true form, that of an Elyri man. He could take whatever form he wanted in dreams, but this was the only place—the only time—he could be himself. So he left his appearance alone, doing nothing to his long silver hair and blue eyes. He looked just like Enlo, except for the hair and a broader build, thanks to Revi’s years of training and fighting. Enlo had chosen to spend his years training his mind and charms far more than his warrior skills.

Enlo and Revi perfectly balanced each other, Enlo used to say. He rooted out the enemies within the Court while Revi conquered the ones beyond.

At least until Revi’s own pride had brought the Summer Queen’s wrath upon them. Revi couldn’t conquer his curse with claw or blade.

He pushed away the familiar anger and focused on the dream world around him. Everything was swathed in darkness, the minds of those nearby scattered about like stars. He walked amongst them, focusing briefly on each one he passed, searching for the familiar notes of Kienna. Her scent, her voice, anything. The minds of people didn’t always manifest in the same way in this dream world; when he focused on a star, he might hear their whispers, or he might feel a sensation against his fingertips. It varied from person to person, and it could even vary from night to night. If he found Kienna’s dreams by her scent tonight, he might find it by her laugh tomorrow.

Finally, he drew close to a star, and the sensations of a soft touch and a flicker like sunlight on golden hair pulled him forward. He touched the star, and a world burst into being around him.

Kienna’s dream was a cozy cottage, with cob walls and a thatched roof. It was nestled amidst trees in a forest not unlike the Winter Court’s conifers. The heat of the curse pressed down here, too. Its presence loomed too much to even be escaped in dreams.

Revi crossed the tiny clearing just in front of the cottage’s door. There was a window with shutters to the left of the door and a window in the wooden door itself, this one with a curtain that fluttered in a faint breeze. Even with his regular sense of hearing—still better than that of a human’s—Revi could hear Kienna moving about within, her footsteps barely audible on the packed dirt floor. A soft clatter followed—porcelain against wood, probably.

He raised his hand and knocked. The sounds stopped.

And then she moved, and the curtain brushed to the side, and he was staring into her green eyes, confusion tilting her brows slightly.

They stared at each other for a long moment. Revi shifted. The primary rule of dreamwalking was that one couldn’t truly enter a dream without permission. He was here, yes, but unless she invited him in, he would never gain entrance to her inner sanctuary—the cottage itself. And if she asked him to leave, he would be forced from the dream entirely.

He pitched his voice low and soft. “Won’t you let me in?”

“I...” Her throat bobbed, her gaze flicking over his face and back to his eyes as some internal debate warred within her.

She was going to turn him away. Somehow she knew, even when he looked like a prince instead of the beast he was—she knew his true nature.

Kienna shook her head, and the creak of the doorknob came. She pulled open the door and stepped aside for Revi to enter. He did so quickly, relief washing over him. He swept past her and took one of the two chairs at the table. Two teacups already waited on the table, as if she’d been expecting him.

The door clicked shut, and Kienna moved past him, rubbing her forehead as she leaned over the fire where the tea kettle was just beginning to whistle an inviting tune.

She grabbed it off the fire, freezing only after she was halfway to the table. Her eyes widened and took in that she had no rag to protect her from its metal handle.

“It won’t hurt you,” Revi said. “This is your dream. You’re safe from most things here.”

Her gaze jerked up to him.

“Truly.” He offered a small smile he hoped was reassuring. He didn’t have much practice smiling these days. Not that he’d had much before the curse, either.

She stood frozen a moment longer, still grappling with the wholly unnatural concept of feeling no pain, before she swallowed again and shifted back into motion, pouring steaming water into the teacups.

Revi watched her closely. Despite the heat here, she wore a dress of wool—finely made, but still simple, and human in design. It suited her; perhaps she was simply more comfortable in the style than she was in the Elyri-made dresses he had provided for her.

She set a teacup in front of him and took the seat across from him, drawing the other teacup closer to herself. His finger brushed the handle of the cup, but he did not drink. He only continued to watch her.

“What brings you to my cottage?” She traced a finger along the rim of her cup and studied him as openly as he studied her, taking in his hair, his eyes, his princely Elyri tunic and trousers, the fine silver circlet on his brow. She seemed impressed by what she saw—so much so that he almost regretted coming. Had he truly thought letting her get to know him in a dream would help anything? At best, he’d get her to fall in love with him here, as the curse wanted, but then she’d just be horrified when she learned the truth of his identity—that the prince before her was just a facade for the beast she knew in the waking world. It would do nothing to break the curse.

Nothing but her choosing to see him as more than a beast—despite that being exactly what he was—would.

“You mustn’t trust your eyes,” he said abruptly, his frustration snapping out. The sharpness of his tone made her draw back a little.

“Why not?”

“You must not trust your eyes,” he repeated, “for they are easily deceived.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear and shifted in her seat. Curiosity swirled around her, and it was almost alluring, given its total absence of fear. It had been so long since anyone besides Enlo had looked at him without at least a trace of fear. “If you could only tell me why, sir, this conversation would be much more productive.”

Instead of answering, he took a deep swallow of tea. It should have scalded his throat, but he ignored the nudging in his mind of the idea, and it quickly faded away.

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