The following days felt gentler and far warmer. Owen visited his mother every day, and they spent part of the day together. He would slip away for his lessons, only to recount them later to her with amusement.

  She was still confined to her chamber, yet it mattered little so long as she could see him. Even the handmaiden seemed more talkative and pleasant. The lifting of the restrictions appeared to ease the oppressive atmosphere that had prevailed until then.

  Owen continued to grow at an astonishing pace. His mother understood neither why nor how such a thing could be possible. Their conversations became ever more open and natural. She seized every opportunity to lift a small part of the veil on the mysteries that remained.

  “Tell me, Owen, how do you come into my dreams? Are you asleep too when it happens?”

  “No. I close my eyes and think very hard about you. As if I want to be with you. And then… I feel as though I’m being pulled in. I don’t sense what’s around me anymore, but I perceive what you feel, what surrounds you.”

  “Really? That’s… a little strange. But doesn’t it scare you, being inside someone else’s dreams?”

  “Honestly… I don’t think it’s a dream. That’s how you see it, but for me, it’s different. I feel things… more intensely.”

  “You mean it’s like you… project your mind? Into mine?”

  “Yes, that’s it! I think…”

  He stood and took her hand.

  “Look.”

  A strange dizziness washed over her. She closed her eyes and felt a presence within her mind.

  “You still have nightmares, don’t you?” he asked.

  “How do you know?”

  “I saw it. In your mind.”

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  “You saw… my nightmares?”

  He nodded gravely. She lowered her gaze and spoke softly,

  “I’m sorry… You shouldn’t have to go through that. Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

  She drew him into her arms, as if to reassure him, then added:

  “You don’t have to be strong in my place. It’s my duty to protect you, not the other way around,” she said, looking him squarely in the eyes, a sad smile on her lips.

  The time she spent with her son made her happier than she had ever been. Perhaps out of naivety, she hoped it would last forever, and that her life would no longer be torn from her.

  ???

  A dozen days passed without anything disturbing their moments of happiness. But one evening, after Owen’s departure, she finally received a visit from the Emperor.

  The girl rose and stared at him in silence, wary. The tension was palpable.

  He stepped closer—mere centimeters away—and her heart raced. Lowering her eyes, she tried to maintain her composure, yet his nearness reminded her of that day, months before, when he had driven the blade into her abdomen. Though the wound had long since healed, she felt the pain flare anew.

  “C-can I do something for you?” she stammered.

  “Thou seemest well. That is good.”

  She hesitated, choosing her words with care.

  “Thank you… thank you for allowing him to come back,” she said, bowing as deeply as she could.

  “I did not do it for thee, as thou mayst suspect. To tell thee the truth, I am not certain that thou art worthy of such an honour.”

  Her throat tightened, her face pale.

  “W-what… What can I do to prove myself worthy?”

  He stepped away, turned his back to her, arms crossed.

  “I shall consider it. Expect my coming.”

  He paused, then continued in a colder tone:

  “And mark me well. Owen may, indeed, keep me from parting you… yet he shall not shield thee from me. Thou shalt speak to him of naught that occurs here in his absence.”

  He left, once again abandoning her to her solitude. She closed her eyes and drew a long, steady breath, wondering what trials still awaited her.