Page 84 of Cursed Dreams
“Gods, he’s ridiculous,” Nyla giggled as she and Thalia returned to their table for more wine, breathless and glowing with exertion.
“He is,” Thalia agreed, watching the way Cellen gently placed a hand at the small of Marand’s back as they continued dancing, the two of them now drifting into a more natural rhythm, faces close and smiling like no one else existed around them.
“You think they’ve figured it out yet?” Nyla asked, nudging her.
Thalia laughed softly. “Not a chance.”
They sat for a moment, sipping their drinks, both of them watching the blossoming flirtation unfold.
Then Thalia noticed a man weaving through the crowd toward them, tall with cropped hair and a familiar smirk. "He looks familiar?” she murmured. Nyla turned just as the man arrived and leaned down to whisper something into her ear. She blinked in surprise, then flushed.
“He just asked me to dance,” she said quietly, glancing at Thalia, suddenly unsure. “Should I?”
Thalia smiled, nudging her gently. “Go. I’m fine. Honestly, I like watching you all. It's nice.”
“You sure?”
“I‘ll be fine, I promise.”
Nyla gave her a quick hug and headed out into the crowd, the man offering his hand and leading her away, their laughter fading into the swell of music.
Left alone at the table, Thalia leaned back in her seat, wine glass in hand, soaking in the scene around her, the dancing bodies, theshimmer of lanternlight on skin and silk, the ever-present hum of magic in the air.
She became aware of someone settling into the seat beside her. She turned, already lifting a brow to say the seats were taken, the words caught in her throat. The man pulled back his hood slowly, deliberately. Pale blue eyes met hers and her heart stopped. Her breath caught in her throat as Caelum lowered his hood, the soft festival lights catching the glint in his pale blue eyes. He looked almost out of place here, this dream-turned-reality sitting across from her in the middle of a crowded, living square. The moment their eyes met, the rest of the world fell away.
“You’re here,” she breathed.
He smiled softly. “Barely.”
“How?”
His gaze drifted upward to the flickering lanterns overhead, then to the fae and human revellers dancing, laughing, singing all around them. His voice came low, laced with a bittersweet kind of wonder.
“This night… the Festival of Esku,” he said. “The veil between realms thins, just for a little while. When the barriers are weak, sometimes, rarely, I can slip through. Like this.”
“So you’re not really here,” she whispered, the weight of it settling heavily in her chest.
“No,” he admitted gently. “Not in the way you are. When dawn comes, I’ll fade again.”
She stared at him, struggling to wrap her mind around it. He was sitting beside her, solid, warm, close enough to touch and yet not truly here. Her thoughts twisted with the impossibility of it.
“Can anyone else see you?” she asked, uncertain.
That drew a soft laugh from him, low and rich. “Yes,” he said, amused. “I’m not a ghost, Thalia. I’m just… not meant to stay.”
She didn’t know whether that made it better or worse.
He looked at her then, more intently. His voice dropped. “I felt you last night.”
Her blood turned to ice.
Caelum’s expression was unreadable. “Your emotions Thalia, they were… sharp. Overwhelming. I couldn’t reach you, but I felt all of it. Pain. Guilt. Desire.” His gaze sharpened. “It felt like you were being torn in two.”
Her heart lurched, a flush creeping up her neck as panic clawed at her throat.
She’d been with Vaelith. His mouth on her skin. Her back against the wall. The raw need in her chest and the explosion of light, of magic, from within her. She had felt like she was on fire, like something ancient had awakened in her bones. Caelum had felt that? Gods.
Her skin prickled with shame, her voice small. “I… I’m sorry.”
