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She heard the key in the lock and she sat up straighter, sniffing the air. Wintergreen, grass, earth. It had to be Bryce.
"Margot?" he said as he opened the door. His eyes went straight to her. "Are you all right? You smell afraid."
"I saw Rhiannon, and I was worried."
"She wouldn't dare come after you here," he said.
"Idiot," Margot said, but she softened it with a smile. "I was worried about you."
He didn't smile back; he seemed to be distancing himself from her. She couldn't blame him.
"My search went well," he said, his voice low. Despite the emotional distance, he sounded closer than he really was, and Margot felt her body responding. He continued, "I found Illary."
"You did?" Margot sat up on her knees. "That's great. What did she say? We can leave tomorrow morning, go back home."
"She wouldn't talk to me," he said, pulling back the mosquito netting on the other bed so he could sit on the edge and face Margot.
Her own netting, combined with the darkness, blurred his features. She pulled the fabric aside to see him better. "What are we going to do?" she asked.
"I think it's important to wait, even just a day. I told her I'd be back. She didn't seem inclined to trust me, but maybe waiting will help."
He gave her a meaningful look, but she glanced down to study the netting bunched in her hands.
"Do you want me to talk to her?" she asked. "I can find her right now, I'll just follow your path."
"She did some kind of spell to disappear," he said. "We'll go together tomorrow. It might take a few days to get her to talk to us. For now, I think we should get some rest."
Margot nodded. Sleep, lately, meant steamy encounters with Bryce. Maybe there, in their dreams, they could work past the damage she'd done. Or maybe...
"What if you visit Illary in your dreams?" she asked, hating the suggestion even as she said it. She wanted Bryce all to herself.
"I've never visited anyone but you on purpose," he said. "I don't know what I'm doing. My dad died before he could teach me anything, and..."
"I think you should try," Margot said. "I want to get home, and I'm sure you do, too. What do you think?"
"Sure, I'll give it a shot," he said.
It meant he wouldn't be coming to Margot's dreams. But this was more important than her own selfish wishes.
"You really are eager to go home, huh?" he asked. His voice sounded strange, tighter than usual.
"Yeah," she said. "I like it here, too, more than I thought I would. But my bakery is there. My clan is there."
"My clan, too," he said sharply.
She stole a glance at him. He was looking straight at her, as if daring her to tell him otherwise. "Yes, sorry," she said.
"Did you forget?" he asked. "Or do you not want me there?"
"No, Bryce. I want you there." She started to reach for him but he remained still. She let her hand fall.
She couldn't make the words come out of her mouth, the ones where she told him that she wanted him with her always. Something held her back, and she knew exactly what it was—her parents, her terrible insecurities about never being anyone's first choice. Dammit. Her parents still had a power over her, even now. The memories were too clear, too devastating.
"Mom, I love you," she'd said.
"That's nice, dear."
And silence.
She couldn't bear for that to happen with Bryce.
He nodded and climbed the rest of the way onto his bed, then pulled the netting around and tucked it back under the mattress.
On her own bed, Margot did the same. The humid air had cooled slightly, but it still felt close, cloying. Margot lay flat on her back on top of the sheets, listening to the sound of Bryce's breathing.
"Hey, Bryce?" she said, turning on her side to face his bed.
"Yeah?"
He lay on his back, facing the ceiling. If only he would turn to the side and look at her.
"Um..." She pressed her face into her pillow, feeling like an idiot. Why couldn't she say what she really wanted to? That if he was traveling around in other dreams—in dreams that weren't hers—he should at least be next to her so she could touch him? She couldn't do it. "Be careful, okay?"
"Yeah, okay."
She closed her eyes and waited for sleep to take her.
In her dream, she was vaguely aware of Bryce standing nearby, almost as if checking on her. She smiled. He was here, after all. Sunlight filtered through pine branches, and the earth smelled of home.
But then the sunlight faded away into black and gray. Bryce was gone. A keening, high-pitched sound reached her ears. The scent of ash and smoke filled the air.
Alarmed, Margot shifted into her fox. She wasn't alone. She couldn't hear anything except that sorrowful, high-pitched noise. She couldn't smell anything except ash and smoke. Where had Bryce gone? She looked around, trying to find him in the shadows. Instead of Bryce, other figures darted between the trees. Instinctively, she knew they wished her ill. She cowered in her fox form, inching away from them.
But they were behind her, too. One reached forward from the trees, trying to strike her with its blood-tipped claws. The snarling face of the panther on the mountain leered at her.
Margot dodged one way, then the other, but every movement brought the figures closer.
"Bryce!" she screamed.
"Shh, I'm here." His voice came from outside of the dream.
She forced her way back to him and found herself awake in his arms, trembling.
"I got you," he said. "You're safe. You're safe."
She snuggled into him until her shaking stopped. He was here, she was safe. It was just a dream.
When she awoke again in the morning, she found herself alone on her bed, the grassy scent of him faint on her sheets. She rolled to her side and inhaled deeply, seeking the wintergreen—and there it was. She looked across the tiny room to Bryce. He lay sleeping on the other twin bed, eyelids fluttering while he dreamed in someone else's dreams.