Lizbeth

Lizbeth had resigned herself to the fact that the dreamlands couldn’t get enough of her. They were obsessed, mining her memories, and using them to clothe the landscape around them.

“They like you, pet,” Tem said. “They’re drawing spiritual blood from you.”

She hadn’t thought of it in those terms before, but it made sense. The dreamlands liked her magic, and they were siphoning off bits of it for themselves.

“Ew,” Lisbeth said. “You make it sound like the dreamlands are a mosquito.”

“And you must be tasty to them,” Tem teased her. She smiled, liking when he flirted with her. It made her happy.

“Shall we?” she asked, pleased by the mode of transportation he’d rustled up for them.

She’d specified she wanted to fly, and he’d obliged her by calling up a giant hot-air balloon for them to travel inside. It was made of blue and green patchwork fabric, the basket a soft faun wicker that was smooth to the touch.

“Do you know how to operate one of these things?” she asked, and he grinned.

“Do I know how to operate one of these things?” he said, mimicking her. “Climb aboard and you will see.”

He offered her a leg up and a moment later she was standing in the basket, her hands grasping the edge as Tem climbed in beside her.

“So how do you operate one of these things, again?” he asked, and she gave him a playful swat on the arm.

It was strange to feel so light and happy in these moments with Tem when all of this terrible dark stuff was swirling around them. Lyse and the others were back in the real world dealing with The Flood and she was here taking a hot-air balloon ride with a man she loved.

Yeah, she’d used the word love and she meant it. When this was all over, she’d already decided she was going to stay in the dreamlands with Tem. She didn’t care if she never went home again . . . besides, what home was there to go back to? Weir was dead. Her mother was dead. Her father was a terrible person, and who knew what was going to happen to the covens? No, she would throw her lot in with Tem and let what would be . . . be.

“You do know what you’re doing,” she said, as they’d sailed up into the clouds.

“You’re precious and I would never risk your safety like that,” Tem said, settling his arm around her as they climbed higher and higher.

She leaned her head against his chest and they stood like that, eyes trained on the ground as it flew past them. The desert was the dreamlands’ default, and the sloping dunes of pale yellow sand stretched on and on like pats of butter melting in the heat of the sun.

“Do you see him?” Lizbeth asked over the hiss of the fire.

Tem shook his head.

“Nothing, lovey.”

This went on for a while, both of them scouring the ground for some signs of life.

“Maybe the darkness took him, too?” Lizbeth said.

“I suppose that’s a possibility.”

They didn’t continue down that line of thinking.

“Wait, I think I see something!” Tem cried, pointing down to where two small specks were walking in the sand, hand and hand.

Lizbeth’s heart swelled as she realized . . . that the second speck was Arrabelle.