Goddess of the Rose (30 page)

He looked surprised but said, “I do.”

“Well, I don't.” She jerked her thumb at the glass doors leading to her bedroom. “The only way I've left my room is through there. I've not stepped so much as a foot into the hall outside my bedroom. I know there's some kind of fantastic dream making and magick brewing going on out there in the rest of the palace, though.” Unspoken between them was what she had said earlier—that she wanted to weave a dream for the two of them.

“There is, indeed.”

“I'd love to see it, but I also want to be able to understand it and weld it. Would you show me around, Asterius?”

His eyes were dark and they glittered with the fullness of the joy her request gave him. He smiled, showing a flash of sharp, white canines. “I would be honored.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

W
ALKING through her bedroom with him was an oddly intimate experience. Mikki saw his eyes go to her opulent bed. His long, powerful stride was suddenly thrown off, and, for the first time, she saw him move awkwardly. She had to force herself not to smile. If he wasn't thinking about getting her into bed, then why should the sight of said bed make him jittery? She thought it was an excellent sign. Then he opened the door and stepped aside so she could go through, and all bedroom thoughts fled her mind.

Her room was the last in the hall and her balcony wrapped all the way around the side of her bedroom, which also was the eastern end of the palace. To her left, the vast main hallway of the palace stretched on and on. The hall was wide, the ceiling incredibly high. Huge mullioned windows faced the south, showing a nighttime view of the torch-lit gardens. The north side of the hall held door after door, each ornately carved with mystic symbols and designs, and stretching as far as she could see. Torches blazed from wall sconces on either side of each door, as well as up and down the hall on both sides. Mikki's eyes were drawn to the long marble boxes that covered the area between the doors. The boxes were filled with flowers that were—amazingly enough—not roses.

The air in the hallway was filled with a sweet, delicate fragrance that reminded her of daylilies. Actually, the flowers did look a little like daylilies, only their leaves were too big and round, even though the huge, trumpetlike white blossoms were lilylike. But the blossoms were weird . . . they were . . . she walked closer. They were surrounded by a glittering haze, like mist that had been sprinkled with glitter. What the . . . ? Then something about those blossoms pricked her memory.

“They're moon flowers! We have them in Oklahoma. They only open up like this at night. During the day their blooms close tight and droop down so they look almost dead.”

“Yes, we call them moon flowers here, too.”

“But what is the foggy stuff that looks like it's coming out of the blossoms?”

“It's not coming out—it's being drawn in.”

“It's being drawn in? What is it?”

“The essence of dreams. Every night the moon flowers capture the essence of dreams and draw them into the rooms beyond, where the women of the realm take that essence and fashion it anew to send back into the world to create the magick that is born of dreams.”

“All that's happening behind those doors?”

“It is.” He smiled at her look of innocent wonder.

The smile she flashed him in return was brilliant, and when she squeezed his arm he thought his heart would burst from his chest and he had to remind himself that it was the magick of the realm that had excited her thus, not his presence. But no matter. Her happiness pleased him, whatever its source, and he was determined to enjoy it, as well as the joy being in Mikado's presence brought him, for as long as her destiny allowed.

“Lead on, Mikado, and I will follow you into the rooms of dreams.” She nodded, drew in a deep breath and touched the knob of the first door. It swung inward. Mikki moved into the room and blinked, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

The room was misty with the sweet scent of moon flowers. All the women were blowing glass bubbles—that much wasn't hard to understand. It was warmer there than in the hallway, though not as hot as the open ovens that stood in each corner of the room should have made it. The women looked up from their tasks when she and the Guardian entered. They ignored Asterius but dropped quick curtsies to her and greeted her cheerfully.

“Don't let me interrupt. Keep doing . . . uh, whatever it is you're doing,” Mikki said hastily.

“They are creating dream bubbles.”

Asterius was standing very close to her, and his low voice rumbled into her ear, causing the skin on her neck to prickle.

“See how, as each bubble grows, so, too, does the dream within it?” She nodded, watching raptly as the women blew into long, slender tubes, turning and fashioning, until the molten lumps at the ends of the tubes were formed into bubbles that looked like delicate, iridescent glass globes of all different colors. As the bubbles got bigger and bigger, Mikki could see that there was something inside them. She moved closer and realized that she was looking at fantastic scenes. In one bubble, a young girl leaped off a cliff, but instead of falling, the child floated through a violet-colored sky singing to birds that looked like flying penguins. In another bubble, two knights jousted while scantily dressed women cheered them on. In yet another, an old woman was looking into a handheld mirror, and within the mirror her face grew younger and younger, until she was a tight-skinned teenager.

“You're seeing the essence of dreams reworked.”

“So those are actual dreams that people will have?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“How do they get from here to the people's minds?”

“Like that.” He lifted his chin toward a woman whose bubble had reached the size of a grapefruit. She stopped blowing into the tube and lifted the bubble to eye level. In the scene taking place inside, Mikki could see a woman dancing through a knee-deep sea of blue grass as the sky rained flowers all around her. The palace worker tapped the bubble once with her fingernail, and it broke off neatly from the tube. But it didn't fall to the ground and break, as Mikki expected it to. Instead, it floated. The worker blew one last breath of air on it, and the bubble lifted, eventually disappearing into the ceiling.

“Would you like to create a dream, Empousa?”

Mikki jumped as the woman who had just sent the bubble through the ceiling offered her the newly emptied tube.

“Oh, thank you, but no. Tonight I'm just watching.”

“As you wish, Empousa.” The woman smiled at her and went back to work.

Mikki grabbed Asterius's hand and pulled him toward the door. “I want to see more!”

“As you wish, Empousa.” He tried to sound formal and aloof for the benefit of the women, who were watching and listening, but the small hand that nestled so easily within his was a treasure beyond price, and he could not conceal the happiness that lit his face when she touched him so easily. He didn't care that they were watching; he didn't care that pain sluiced through his arm. All that mattered was that she did not take her hand from his until they reached the next door, which she touched open. He followed her in, smiling at her little gasp of pleasure.

This room was much cooler and smelled like moon flowers and spring rain. A clear stream bubbled through the center of the room, coming from nowhere and disappearing into nothingness. On one side of the stream, women lounged on puffy cushions the color of blushes, talking and laughing while their hands trailed into the water. Every so often one of the women would pull something that looked like a coin from the water, study it carefully, then, with a snap of her fingers, the coin would disappear in a puff of pink smoke.

On the far side of the stream, women sat comfortably cross-legged, dipping round hoops into the water. A young woman caught sight of her and called, “Greetings, Empousa!” and soon the rest of the Dream Weavers greeted her.

“Don't let me interrupt you; I just want to watch,” Mikki assured them. Then she lowered her voice and moved closer to Asterius. “Okay, what are they doing?”

“The stream carries coins from all of the wishing wells in the mundane world. The women choose a coin, and if they like the wish, they turn it into a dream.”

“What if they don't like it?”

“It stays in the stream and eventually becomes the sludge from which nightmares are formed.”

“Can't they throw them away or something? I hate nightmares.”

“There must be balance, Mikado. Light—dark, good—evil, life—death. Without balance, the circle of life would collapse.”

“I still don't like nightmares,” she grumbled. Then Mikki pointed to the women with the hoops. “What are they doing?”

“They're finding the right mixture of dreams, water, and magick to make scrying mirrors.”

“Scrying mirrors?”

“Mirrors used for second sight—for discerning that which cannot be seen with the eye alone.”

“Really? That's fascinating. You know, I think I'd like to get a closer look.” Mikki marched over to one of the women fishing for coins.

“I would be honored if you would join me, Empousa.” She smiled warmly at Mikki and scooted over to make room for her on the cushion.

Mikki sat and looked down into the water. It was clear, tumbling hurriedly over the white sand that formed the bottom of the magickal stream. Then a circle of silver rolled into view, and without letting herself think too much, she plunged her hand in after it. The water was pleasantly warm, a nice contrast to the cool room. Her fingers closed around the coin. Smiling triumphantly, she lifted it, dripping.

“Well done, Empousa.” Asterius's deep voice rumbled from beside her. “Now look into it and see if the wish is a dream you will grant.”

Mikki narrowed her eyes and stared at the coin. With a little shock, she realized she was holding a quarter! The mint date stamped on it was 1995. It was just a plain, ordinary quarter. No different than the ones she'd been seeing, and spending, her entire life. How could there be any magick within—

The skin of the coin rippled, and she almost dropped it. She looked closer. It was like putting her eyes to one of those old view masters, only the scene within the coin moved like a video. A man and a woman lay on a sheepskin rug in front of a crackling fireplace. They were naked and making love. Mikki could hear him telling her over and over how beautiful she was and how she tasted of honey and love. Then, as the woman orgasmed, snow began to fall in the room all around the couple, without touching them or getting them wet.

“Do you grant that the wish be made a dream?” Asterius asked.

Mikki looked from the erotic scene to the beast who stood beside her. She licked her lips, letting her gaze travel up the muscular expanse of his chest to the fullness of his very human lips. “Yes, I grant it,” she said. Without having to be told what to do next, she snapped her fingers and the coin exploded in a puff of pink smoke, which drifted lazily up and then through the ceiling.

“Will you choose another, Empousa?” the woman sitting beside her asked.

“I'd like to, but I want to visit more of the other rooms tonight.” For the second time that day, Mikki held her hand out to Asterius. This time there was no hesitation before he took it and helped her to her feet. When she stood, he let go of her hand, but she didn't move away from him. Instead, she placed her hand in the crook of his arm, as if he was an old-time Southern gentleman escorting her from the room. “Let's go see some of the other rooms.”

“As you wish, Empousa.”

His words were still formal, but there was no mistaking the way his expression softened when he spoke to her and how they leaned their bodies toward one another, sharing intimate smiles and whispers. They walked from the room, neither paying any attention to the shocked stares of the Dream Weavers.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

M
IKKI'S mind was a whirlwind, filled with the unbelievable beauty she'd witnessed in the dream-weaving rooms. Just when she thought she'd seen something so incredible it couldn't be topped, Asterius would lead her to another room and she would be amazed all over again. She wished her mother and grandmother could be here with her. Her mother, in particular, would love the room where women were painting tiny porcelain animals, which came alive as they floated up through the ceiling. Her grandmother would probably most like the dream weaving that had been devoted to magick, like the room where brightly colored scenes were painted on long rolls of parchment so fine it was see-through. When the scenes were finished, the filmy paper suddenly broke apart, and like dove's wings, fluttered up out of sight. Asterius had explained that the women had been creating the essence of Tarot cards. And then there was the room they'd entered where women had been using shining silver hooks to crochet diaphanous blankets ranging in color from buttercup to smoke. Moon veils, used for drawing down the moon, he had named them. And she realized that they were, indeed, all the colors of the different phases of the moon.

But her favorite room was the candle room. It had been filled, tier after tier, with thick, cream-colored pillar candles, on which women carved into the soft wax fantastic dream scenes. When a scene was finished, the candle was lit. As it burned, the dream scene was released and then carried to the waiting world on fragrant, snow-colored smoke.

“One more room,” Asterius said sternly as they left the candle room. Before she could protest, he shook his head. “No, there are shadows beneath your eyes. You can continue your exploration tomorrow night.”

“Is this more of your duty to care for me, or are you tired of me dragging you from room to room?”