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“That’s game!” I pronounced, slapping my final card down on the table.
“You do know that victory is only a matter of chance in this game, not a result of strategy,” Warden replied, completely unfazed.
“Says the sore loser,” I faux-muttered with a smirk and started to gather up the cards. “But yes, obviously we’re playing a chance game. I’d have zero hope of beating you at something with strategy or deception.”
“Says the sore loser.”
I flicked a card at him, and was only slightly surprised when he caught it mid-flight.
“Another round?” I asked as I shuffled.
He studied me with a familiar hint of concern.“Are you not tired? You have been awake for over twenty hours.”
“I’m fine,” I lied with a shrug.
“I saw you yawn only a few minutes ago.”
“I said I’m fine, Warden.” But the bite in my tone gave me away.
We sat in silence for a moment, or almost silence, with the rain outside spattering against the windows.
I’d been making a conscious effort lately to snap at him less and accept his help more graciously. Our days together in the Paris safe-house had been quite different than our time together in Magdalen for the most part, but every once in a while the sense of deja vu became too strong and my penchant for distancing myself reemerged. I reminded myself that this was not the Warden I knew then. I could trust this Warden. I had to trust him, or we’d never be able to face whatever was ahead of us. And there was something I shouldn’t keep to myself anymore.
I stood up and walked over to the french doors that lead to the flat’s small balcony. It was too windy to open them, but the rhythm of rain running down the panes of glass was still calming. Eventually, I found my voice.
“I thought voyants didn’t dream.”
There was no reply. If it were anyone else I’d think they hadn’t heard me, but of course he had. I could sense him walking over to join me, so I continued.
“I always thought… Amaurotics dream because they can’t access their dreamscapes, just see glimpses. But voyants don’t need to dream. We can consciously visit our dreamscapes any time, all our memories stored there…”
Warden was facing me now. He brought a hand under my chin and tilted my head slightly so I would look at him. “Paige, what -”
“I think I’m dreaming. Having nightmares...” I could hear the fear and panic start to rise in my voice. “And it’s not like before, in Oxford. Those memories were so vivid, so real. Now when I sleep it’s...I can’t tell what’s real. Nothing makes sense. I see people in places they shouldn’t be, I hear things and feel things…what if... what if I’m losing it? What if my dreamscape is breaking down? What if I’m -”
“Paige,” he cut me off firmly, holding my face in both of his hands. “Paige, look at me.”
I did, placing my hands on his wrists and forcing myself to take a deep breath.
“You are not breaking down, you are healing.”
“But what if I’m not? What if I’ve done too much damage to my dreamscape this time?”
“Trust me in this Paige. You are still healing,” he repeated firmly.
“How can you know? You can’t be sure,” I insisted.
Warden looked at me with raised eyebrows.
“What?”
“You are forgetting my gift.”
And so I was. Warden was an oneiromancer, a sleep dealer. If there was anyone who could help me to understand this, it was him. I felt a little sheepish for a moment. How had I so easily forgotten his gift? I supposed it was not something he used frequently. And there were plenty of other distracting aspects about his nature.
“So you’re saying this is normal?”
His hands slid down my neck and gripped my shoulders. “For someone who has been through the amount of trauma that you have been through in the past few months, in the past year alone...yes.” His thumbs grazed soothingly back and forth across my clavicles. “These ‘dreams’ are still your memories, housed in your dreamscape, but they appear foggy and out of order at the moment. Your mind is trying to protect you from reliving them with full clarity.”
“You’ve seen this before?”
“Once.” His eyes dimmed and there was a tint of sadness behind them. It took me a moment to guess who he could be referring to.
“Michael?”
He nodded.
Poor Michael. I knew it pained him even more than it pained me to not know what had become of our little friend after the escape. I brought my hands around Warden’s back and leaned into his chest. I wasn’t sure if the embrace was for me or for him. We stayed that way for a minute.
“Now you know why I’ve been avoiding sleep,” I admitted softly, my voice finally calm again.
“Would you like me to help you?”
I pulled back to look at him.
“You can do that? You can make people not dream?”
“It was one of the ways I was able to help Michael at first.”
I thought about it a moment before acquiescing. “Ok.”
He brushed a stray curl behind my ear. “Are you feeling tired enough now?”
I nodded, and he placed a hand on my back to give me a gentle nudge towards the bed.
I crawled onto one side of the bed and pulled up the blankets around me, squirming around a bit to try and find the most comfortable position. Meanwhile, Warden grabbed a chair from the kitchen table and placed it near my side. When I was finally still, I looked over and he sat down.
“What now?” I asked, feeling a little self-conscious.
“Now you go to sleep.” he replied, and I resisted rolling my eyes. As if he saw that reaction anyway he added, “I will monitor your dreamscape for potential memory fragments and help guide them back.”
I nodded and closed my eyes.
“In the absence of salvia, it may help if I have physical contact with your dreamscape, or as close to it as possible. May I place my hand on your forehead?” he asked clinically.
“Knock yourself out.”
I tried to focus on the darkness of my eyelids and the sound of the rain. But now of course, any ounce of exhaustion I’d had two minutes ago had fled. I couldn’t ignore Warden’s hand on my head, his dreamscape close by. I could feel him concentrating on me. Eventually I let out a frustrated sigh and opened my eyes.
“Ok, I’m not going to fall asleep like this. It’s too weird. I feel like an experiment you’re studying.”
“I apologize.” He took his hand back and placed it in his lap. “I am not sure of any other methods.”
“It’s not the method exactly, it’s just…you’re sitting in that chair staring at me and it just feels...I don’t know, weird.”
I stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to figure out what exactly was irking me and how to fix it. I had an idea, but I wasn’t sure how to phrase it without making things weirder. I turned to look at him and tried to keep the color of my cheeks neutral.
“Could you...what if you were lying next to me?”
I detected only the barest hint of surprise in his gaze. “I suppose that is slightly more natural than sitting by your side.”
“Right.” I swallowed. Slightly more natural.
He walked around to the other side of the bed. I closed my eyes again and tried to concentrate on slowing my pulse, imagining my body growing heavier and sinking into the mattress. I was only partially successful. I still heard the two quiet thuds that must be Warden removing his shoes, and felt the dip in the mattress as he laid down. Slowly I rolled over onto my side, tucking my hand under the pillow so I could face him.
It was such a strange sight that I nearly laughed. This 6’9” nonhuman lying fully clothed on top of the blankets next to me, perched on his side like some greek statue. But his eyes were a serious, steady flame.
“Shall we try again?” he asked, his voice low.
Suddenly I felt too warm to stay under the covers and kicked them off.
I positioned myself comfortably on my side again and closed my eyes. After what felt like forever, but was probably less than a minute, I felt his hand...on the back of my head this time. His fingers pressed slow circles into my scalp and within seconds the tension began to ease out of my body. I let out a deep exhale and allowed myself to focus on the intoxicating sensation. Gradually, I began releasing my mental walls one at a time.
A few minutes later, I mumbled something along the lines of “thank you” as I finally slipped into unconsciousness.
It took me a moment to realize why I had woken up; I was freezing. The only part of me that was warm was the back of my neck, where Warden’s hand had drifted down. I looked over to see that he was asleep beside me.
My half-awake brain tried to strategize on how to bring the blankets at my feet back up without waking my bedfellow. I tried slowly dragging my toes upwards, but they weren’t catching. And after a few attempts I felt Warden’s dreamscape stir beside me.
“Forgive me,” he said, rolling onto his back and rubbing his hand over his face. “I intended to stay awake and keep your mind clear.”
It was only then that I remembered why he was in the bed with me.
“It was clear.”
He turned his head and looked at me questioningly.
“I woke up because I was cold. I didn’t have any nightmares. It worked.”
“Hm,” was all he replied, seemingly deep in thought.
“Maybe you don’t have to actively monitor me all night? Maybe just as I’m falling asleep?” I offered.
“No, it should have required more constant effort. At least, that has been my experience.”
I shrugged and rolled over to face him again. “Well, maybe I just subconsciously feel safer with you next to me.”
“You are safer with me next to you.”
I kicked his shins with my foot. He didn’t react, but after a moment he rolled back over so we were facing each other. There was just enough distorted streetlight bleeding in through the rain-covered windows that I could make out his outline. His eyes glowed as usual.
“Did you sleep alright?” I asked.
“Yes, better than usual in fact.”
That surprised me. “Why’s that?”
It took a moment but then he said, “Because you are safer with me next to you.”
The fire in his eyes made my heart beat heavier, but I felt like I was still missing a connection.
“What do you mean?”
Warden released his own slow exhale, but I could tell he wasn’t avoiding me. Perhaps just trying to find the right English words.
“Those weeks when you were in the Archon, I could rely only on the golden cord’s presence as proof that you were still alive, though it gave me no indication of your condition. I questioned it at times.”
I remembered feeling a similar doubt when Warden had been held captive in Camden, before drinking the ectoplasm had illuminated the cord again.
“Eventually I became automatically...attuned to it, I suppose. I was able to keep it constantly in the back of my mind, in case you were ever able to tug on it.”
Something else was beginning to tug on my chest, but I kept listening.
“Of course, keeping at least a partial watch on the cord isn’t particularly conducive to restive sleep. Even now, when I know you are merely across the room…”
I thought I knew where this was going, but I waited for him to look me in the eyes and say it.
“When you are next to me, when I can physically feel that you are here, that you are safe...my subconscious mind stops seeking the reassurance.”
The tugging on my chest was a full blown ache now, heavy with something I hadn’t felt before. I’d always felt a pull towards Warden, golden cord or no, but this was different; more than just longing or desire. I suddenly couldn’t bear the thought of this man feeling any more pain, any more worry. I was filled with this fierce instinct to comfort him and protect him; an admittedly silly notion, when I was hardly in a position to protect anyone at the moment. But there it was. My whole core thrummed with it.
I slowly slid myself closer to him. Warden watched me heavily as the inches between our bodies decreased. I tucked my head under his chin and rested my check against his chest. I pulled his arm around me then squeezed his torso tight. I threaded one of my legs between his. My hand came up to cradle his jawline.
“Ok,” I said, closing my eyes. “Then now it’s your turn.”
I felt his arms tighten around me like a cocoon.
And we slept.