The Fae King's Dream (Between Dawn and Dusk #2) - Jamie Schlosser Page 0,1

sleep on, the wood grain on their doors, or the speckles on their granite countertops. How hair shines in sunlight. The rough fabric on a bath towel. Blades of grass. Fluffy white clouds.

Born blind, I’ve never had a chance to learn these things through my own eyes. The curse was already woven when I was just the size of a pebble in my mother’s womb. I’ve always had to rely on the perception of others to show me what I’m missing, and to be honest, I’m sick of it.

“Come on,” the dude groans, frustrated as he glares down at his lap. “Just finish already.”

He goes back to whacking it with fury, and I turn away. He doesn’t realize he’s dreaming and that his efforts are futile.

This could go on for a while.

Well.

I think it’s safe to say I’m not going to find the answers I seek here.

Ignoring the grunts to my left, I close my eyes and mentally push myself out of sleep.

When my eyes open, I see nothing but darkness. Endless black. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but it still causes a painful longing in my chest.

I’m not sure if the tug on my heart has more to do with my lack of sight or the absence of my mate. Probably both. I won’t be complete until I find her.

And I will find her.

Until recently, I’d spent most of my two-thousand-ish years focusing my efforts in Valora. I’d been so sure my soul mate would be fae. In my magical world, it’s extremely rare to be fated to a human. Even Kirian’s wife has a little fae ancestry, but he found her in the Earth realm.

My parents, being wiser than I am, moved there over six hundred years ago to help me broaden the search. They often steal insignificant objects from people and send them back to me, since I need someone’s possession if I want to enter their dreams. Sometimes it’s pens, hair ties, or in this case, a blue wrist band that says ‘YOLO’ on it.

Rolling over, I drop the college dude’s bracelet on the nightstand and grab an amulet belonging to my father.

I lie back once more, closing my eyes as I rub my thumb over the metal grooves of the round talisman. Light bursts behind my eyelids, and I smile when my father comes into view.

“You’re asleep,” I say, even though he can’t hear me. “I’m glad. It’s good to see you.”

As always, he doesn’t respond, but I sit next to him anyway.

Unlike the pitiful sap from the previous dream, my father’s great at building a scene. Dream Weaving is one of the only powers in my world that can be learned and developed over time, not inherited.

My father has perfected it.

The bench beneath us is made from intricately carved stone. There’s a dirt path leading to some greenish-blue hills in the distance. The sky is streaked with teal and purple, reminding me of the Dream Realm right after Dusk has faded away. In front of us stands a magnolia tree—an Earth element I’ve come to love and appreciate. Pink petals drift through the cool air, falling to the ground.

One lands on my father’s knee. I get close, studying the beauty nature packed into something so small. Just like snowflakes, no petal is ever the same. There are so many variations of color. Magenta, fuchsia, white.

Exquisite.

A gentle breeze blows, making the silky pad tumble from my father’s floral swim trunks to his sandal.

Cutting a glance his way, I notice how he hangs his head. His long dark dreadlocks hide his face, so I lean forward to see him better. Furrowed eyebrows, pursed lips, tight jaw.

“In a mood tonight, are we?”

I wish we could talk. I miss him. Mother, too. Visiting their dreams isn’t the same as enjoying their company.

I long for the simple moments, like when my father and I used to go to the shores of Issika Lake at dusk. Many evenings, we sat there in the sand as he described the sky to me. Then we’d chat about life. No topic was off limits. War and peace. Life and love. My mysterious mate.

Those innocent times are far behind me.

Crime and injustice ravage our world now.

In the Dream Realm, most of Valora’s conflict has been avoidable in the past. That isn’t the case anymore. Trouble trickles from the Day Realm. There’s so much sickness and death there, polluting the rest of our beautiful lands.

As if the witches hadn’t already caused