Christian wasn't sure if he was dreaming for a long moment. He hadn't remembered any of his dreams for so long that he had forgotten what it felt like. He was vaguely aware of Sebastian's naked form pressed against him protectively, and aware of his eyes being closed. But yet, he could see. He turned to see where he was. Ah, there in the distance, like a hole, was a small flicker of color against the unrelenting blackness. He moved toward it. It grew as he approached, clearly becoming defined as a tear in whatever stuff surrounded him. He paused as details became more clear. He recognized the dried blood color of the uneven rocks, the murky red sky outside the window. Just under that tear, if his memory served, was the small but not uncomfortable mat that he used as a bed. The chances were very good that he would find his slumbering double on it, if he only leaned through the tear.
"Don't. We'll both be stuck then," said an eerily familiar voice beside him. Christian turned and narrowed his eyes in confusion. What was so familiar about that shaggy dark hair, those dark eyes? It was the tattooed star high on the stranger's chest that gave it away.
"Of course. You're not reversed," Christian said to himself.
"Not a reflection, right," said Christian to himself. "We do look a match at this point."
"I'm not changing places with you."
"I'm not asking you to change places with me. We need to be one again."
"Well, yes. I'm pretty sure that we've both learned things that are useful."
They stood there in the hesitant light, taking one another's measure. Christian felt a deep urge to embrace the other one, but kept himself from doing so.
"We aren't separate beings," Christian told him. "You and I are the same person, and we'll be whole soon"
"Will you miss it? The Veiled Lady's realm?"
"You can go back whenever I wish. The rules of doors and gates and spells don't apply to me. Us." He scrubbed at the sides of his head. "This is frustrating. I know there's just one of us, that division doesn't make us any less one, but it makes conversation tricky."
"Do...do you want a hug? You look forlorn." They slid their arms around one another, resting their heads together, feeling the echo of their pulse in one another's skull.
"Don't let Sebastian do anything stupid," Christian implored.
"Don't do anything stupid yourself," begged Christian.
"I want to stay for a minute more."
"I can't. It's too big of a risk right now. It will all be fixed soon, because I can't keep living like this."
"Hurry."
"Hurry."
Christian flinched awake. Sebastian stirred behind him, then pulled him closer. The night was soothingly quiet, Sebastian's skin warm against his.
But which one was he?
He sat up, groaning in weary frustration. He had hoped, perhaps too much, that if he could find a way to meet himself halfway, then it would be over. But it was apparent now that neither one of them could do much more than meet as wispy dream stuff. Still, following the thin, steady trickle of his own power inward had gotten him somewhere, and without too much in the way of injury from the shackles. They only seemed to keep him from focusing power outward. He'd have to keep trying, seeing how far they'd let him go inwardly back to himself.
The relentless banging of the great drum in the courtyard pulled him from his reverie. He crossed to the window, wincing at the stiffness in his joints. It was beginning to be cooler in this realm, a shift in the seasons perhaps. He still had nothing to wear, no blankets even, and the wind dragged the meager heat from the room. The King of Blood was preparing his army for a winter campaign against one of the smaller Kingdoms. His Majesty stood upon an iron dais, surveying his troops as they rode past on their hellish mounts. The loss of his favorite general at the hands of a just-born wizard still enraged him, that much was plain. His stubborn refusal to keep a Witch though was hindering his search for the guilty party. Christian breathed a tiny prayer of thanks that Lilly was only answerable to the Queen in Veils, and could continue to lie to the King, that she had no idea where the wizard had gone.
The charade could not be maintained forever, though. Every lie, every moment, increased the chances of him being found.
The Veiled Queen was on the dais as well, still as a statue as the King raged at his troops. She hated war-mongering, she hated her husband's incessant need to oppress and dominate, she hated sending the poor damned and twisted inhabitants of their Kingdom to their doom. These things she had confided to him as she paced in his cell, teaching him about the outer realms and shadow places. He wished Lilly would come to the tower, but he understood why she didn't. She could honestly tell the King that she had not seen the wizard in the Kingdom, that she did not know his location, or what he might be doing.
The mute servants of the Queen were chosen for the same reason. They were loyal to her, and with no way of speaking, they could not have their secrets dragged from them, no matter the pain or threat of death. Not that the King would even think to ask them. That would have been the task of his Witch, to think of things he overlooked. But he was arrogant, and thought himself infallibly clever and strong.
Let him continue to be blind to the Queen and her quiet machinations, then. Let the King think that the weak were below his notice, and too cowed to move in a way contrary to his will.
He moved away from the window, too chilled to remain there any longer. He briefly toyed with the idea of deliberately drawing too much power, just to warm himself from the shackles' burning. He finally decided it wasn't worth a fresh branding. Maybe the servants would bring hot tea with his meal. It was bitter, and left a nasty feeling in the throat, but it was better than nothing at all.
He turned toward the door and his breath caught. An eye was pressed to the wide crack along the bottom of the door, staring at him in wondering horror. He heard a frightened yelp, and the eye disappeared, but there was the sound of small feet clattering down the stairs.
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