Page 5 of Dreamer (The Dream World Chronicles)

“Good,” Mother said. “I’m tired of this endless waiting.”

“What about your daughter?”

I pressed my ear further against the keyhole, squashing it roughly against the cold metal.

“I’ve been watching her carefully and she hasn’t exhibited the usual signs. I’m concerned she lacks the ability, but I’m sure she’ll still be quite useful.”

“Have you told her?”

“No. It’s too delicate a matter. You must understand our situation…”

“Of course,” the female stranger said. “I’m sure when the time comes, she’ll prove invaluable.”

“With what I have planned, I can only hope your assessment proves accurate.”

“When should we come back?” the man asked.

“I should have something for you in two weeks.”

They paused, and I barely had time to wonder if the strange conversation was over before suddenly the gate handle turned. I scrambled back, but before I could find a place to hide, Mother emerged alone, fiddling with the locket she always wore around her neck. She froze when she saw me, but her pale face quickly hardened.

“Eden? What are you doing out here? I told you to stay inside.”

I shrank back at her icy glare. “I heard voices, and I wondered who they were. No one ever comes here.”

Mother stiffened, but otherwise her face remained indifferent. “Someone from the village requested an herb remedy to help with their migraines.”

I craned my neck to catch a glimpse of the strangers presumably still in the garden, but it was empty. Where had they gone?

“We don’t usually get visitors from the village,” I said. “They seem to be under the impression you don’t exist.”

Mother fiddled with her necklace. For as long as I could remember, she’d always worn a see-through locket about the size of my hand, shaped like a twisted hurricane and containing a small reserve of glitter, which she usually kept tucked beneath her collar away from my prying eyes.

“So long as you didn't hear…” Her anxious expression softened and her mouth curved up slightly from its usual thin line. “I’m a bit distracted today. I have a lot on my mind. Come, let’s go back inside.” She stroked my hair once before severing her touch, leaving me yearning for more.

* * *

Half an hourlater we returned outside to tend the tomatoes, the scent of baking bread drifting from the house. I tried to concentrate, but my mind kept drifting back to the confrontation in the bookshop and the mysterious visitors Mother had met in her herb garden…especially them.

My mind swirled with what I’d overheard. Despite her casual dismissal of the incident, I couldn’t quench the questions swarming my mind. Who were those mysterious strangers? What was Mother anxiously waiting for? What role did she want me to play in whatever she was planning? And what abilities had she been hoping I’d develop? Whatever they were, naturally I’d left her disappointed, just as I always did.

Perhaps she’d been referring to her extraordinary gardening ability, which she’d been trying to grow in me since infancy. I knew she wanted me to learn to love plants and tend them in the natural way she did, where each plant radiated at her touch, as if her fingers themselves were a drop of sun. While I’d developed adequate skills, my gift wasn’t gardening—it was magic and seeing dreams, skills which, according to everyone, were forbidden. If only I could share this part of myself with her…oranypart, such as the villagers’ whispers this morning, my fears that I didn’t fit in, and the fierce longing I felt for her approval.

The memory of the gentle way Mother had stroked my hair earlier gave me the courage to tentatively broach the subject I’d spent years trying to discuss with her. I took a wavering breath. “There were strange whispers in the village this morning. Many believe magic is what caused last week’s fire—”

Mother swiveled to face me, her eyes flashing. “I’ve told you over and over never to use that word. Do you understand me?”

I flinched at her sharp tone. “Of course. Forgive me, Mother.”

Her movements were rigid as she returned to her pruning, a sign of her suppressed anger. “Magic doesn’t exist,” she said firmly. “I never want to hear you bring it up ever again.”

I lowered my eyes to my hands, where my powers that I didn’t understand simmered beneath my skin, waiting to be used…if I could but figure outhow. I forced myself to push them back even as I hastily locked my secret deeper within its stronghold where it belonged, scolding myself for once again trying to share it.

I knew I couldn’t confide in Mother, so why did I continue to try? The consequences should she find out about who I truly was would be dire, yet the hope that she’d accept me burned brighter, impossible to fully quench, no matter how many times she rejected my attempts to confide in her.

Mother hated magic, and she never let me forget it. Would she also hate me if she knew I secretly possessed it? My heart stung at the possibility. If she rejected me too, I’d be left with no one.

I stole another sideways glance at Mother kneeling beside me, bent over her plants with intense concentration, her expression hard as she pulled the weeds with unusual vigor. Her locket swung back and forth with each rapid movement, the glitter trapped within catching in the sunlight and creating shimmery patterns against the soil. There was something familiar about it, and the mystery drew my gaze to it again and again.

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