Page 73 of Realm of Dreams & Shadows

“I know,” I say, and I realize I do know. Despite all the secrets, despite the supernatural chaos swirling around us, I trust this man with my life.

“I should go,” he says reluctantly. “Whistler’s waiting, and you need rest before tomorrow’s session.”

“Tomorrow,” I agree, though part of me wants to pull him into my room and forget about supernatural training and nightmare kings and everything else that threatens our fragile new beginning.

I reach up, my hand cupping his perfect right cheek. “Please,” I whisper.

He closes his eyes, and I see him draw in a long, deep breath. For a moment, I’m certain he’s going to shut me down again. Instead, he nods toward the door. “Inside.”

I hesitate only a second, then unlock the door and usher him in, and since standing in the little entrance alcove is beyond awkward, I plunk myself down on the bed, clutching my pillow just so I have something to do with my hands.

A moment later, Chase sits, too, the mattress dipping under his weight, and I’m suddenly, acutely aware of the geometry — him on my bed, in my room, the door closed, the fairy lights casting soft shadows across his jaw. If he shifted six inches to the left, his thigh would touch mine. I’m aware of those six inches the way you’re aware of a lit match near your skin. Not dangerous. Not yet. But warm. And getting warmer.

I hug the pillow tigher.

“We’re connected,” Chase says, and I know he’s not talking about us, but about him and Adric, the Nightmare King.

“How?”

He drags his hand through his hair, making it stand on end in a way I’m finding inappropriately sexy for the moment. “You could say we’re brothers.”

I frown. “Could say?”

“He shrugs. It’s the closest thing you’d understand. In truth, we were the Guardian—one being whose job was to hold up the barriers between realms and keep them from collapsing. An eternity of guarding those all-important walls. An endless job of holding back a dam that wants to burst.”

“An eternity,” I repeat. “You’re not exaggerating.”

“Well, since the universe still exists and I’m no longer a Guardian, I’m exaggerating a bit. But millennia upon millennia. More time than a human mind can conceive.”

“Oh. Wow. Okay.”

His mouth twists, and he reaches for my hand, his thumb brushing my skin as he continues to speak. “A thankless but necessary task. But after countless ages, Adric got tired of it. Thought we were too important to spend forever as a cosmic janitor. I had the opposite view. As I saw it, no job was more important than keeping the realms from collapsing upon one another. That would bring chaos. And after chaos would come…well, nothing.”

I lick my lips. “Well, we’re here, so the nothing result didn’t happen. What did?”

He touches his cheek where the scar is in dreams. “He used the Guardian’s blade—an ancient weapon we carried to fight off those who would attempt to breach the barrier—and he cut us apart himself.”

I try to picture it, but I’m pretty sure I’m failing. “You were like conjoined twins?”

He shakes his head. “No, but if that helps you understand, you can picture it like that. In fact, we were a spectral being, formless and yet formed. Only the Guardian Blade and our own innate magic as the Guardian could have performed the split.”

I nod. “Okay. That makes sense. Sort of.” I wince a little. “You were spectral, you said. So it didn’t hurt?”

“The pain was greater than you can possibly imagine. It took thousands upon thousands of earth years to fade. Even now, I still feel the sting in my brother’s presence.” He meets my eyes. “And you have seen the scar.”

I draw in a breath, suddenly understanding why both their faces are scarred. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could do something.”

“You do,” he says, and I hear the heat in his soft voice. “You soothe so much of my pain.”

“Chase, I⁠—”

He presses a finger to my lips, then continues. “You do,” he repeats.

I nod, then kiss his fingertip. “What happened after he cut you apart?” I ask. “I mean, the barriers are still up—weak, you said—but still up. Yet you’re not there, and he’s not there. Is there a new Guardian?”

“No,” he says.

“Then what happened?” I’m picturing the silver-eyed king and his brother Chase on a fluffy cloud at a medieval-style wall with a huge gaping maw in it. It’s not what happened, of course, but I figure it’s the best metaphor my human mind can grasp.