A new question

Trace blinked with mild surprise.

"Of course, Anaisa. What's your question?"

He had thought his question about her favorite season was a rather good one; not too invasive, yet could give him insight into her preferences and the way her mind worked. Apparently, she didn't want to go through that just now.

She stared at him for a moment as if reconsidering a decision she'd made, and he wondered at it.

"What is your favorite thing about the capital city?" She finally asked.

He tilted his head, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully.

"I haven't spent enough time there to really have a favorite thing," Trace told her. "I suppose the palace is beautiful enough."

He hadn't liked being there, however. It was a tedious endeavor listening to the speeches of various diplomats and royals, especially not knowing which one of them could be the one forcing him into a situation he didn't want to be in. He'd been happy to leave the moment he could.

"What is your favorite thing there? Anything we should go out of our way to see, if we have time?" He reflected the question back at her.

Anaisa frowned. "The only thing I want to see is Katia."

Trace was startled that she couldn't seem to think of a single thing she liked in the place where she'd spent her childhood. He could think of three dozen things he loved about the farm he grew up on. Wasn't childhood full of joy and wonder?

"We'll find her," He promised, feeling a little guilty. He knew, more or less, that Anaisa's sister was safe, but he didn't know how to assure her so without revealing how he knew that.

His wife nodded, to his mild surprise. She seemed thoughtful, but didn't ask more about it.

"I think your question was better," Anaisa admitted after her next bite.

"Oh?"

"Yes. I like autumn, because the heat in the city is unbearable in summer. The relief to finally feel cool again after the sweltering nights and boiling days is a wonder." She explained.

He smiled, warming to the topic. "I've always loved spring best. It's planting time, and the beginning of watching new things grow. It's also calving and birthing season for many of the animals, and I've always liked watching life begin."

"I've never seen such things," Anaisa tilted her head.

"You will," Trace grinned. "It's unavoidable on a farm. I hope you'll like it, there's something unbelievably beautiful about a fresh, new little being in the world, or a sprout peeking up from the soil, ready to spring up into something wonderful."

There was a momentary pause as Anaisa picked at her food. Her eyes shifted every few seconds. Trace had noticed this habit, and theorized that it signaled his wife was deep in thought.

He had not been bold enough to ask if this was true.

After dinner, he hung up the blanket which draped like a loose wall between them every night. He frowned. They might not be able to hang it up in the room at whatever small inns they resided in on their journey to the city.

He wondered how Anaisa would react. Trace intended to slowly prove himself trustworthy, as he slowly trusted her more…

But how trustworthy was a man who was being blackmailed?

He cringed.

How trustworthy was a man who peeked in on his wife's dreams without her knowledge night after night?

If he had more self control, he would stay away, but the insight it gave him into her mind was addictive. Each night he'd resisted as long as he could, but was drawn like a moth to flame to the edges of his own world.

It held little appeal for him lately.

Since he'd visited Anaisa's dreams, he felt lonely in his own. And so, every evening, he drifted towards her turmoil. Occasionally, he lost his will to stay out and glanced inside, hating himself every time he did. Mostly he stayed just outside the bubble, pushing away her nightmares and giving her pleasant, peaceful dreams. 

Truly, he wanted her life with him to be pleasant, and this was one thing he could do for her.

Prepared for the night, they both took their places: Anaisa on the bed, and Trace on the floor by the fire.

"Sleep well," He said to her, confident that she would.

"Thank you," She replied, so softly he could hardly hear her. "I have slept very well since arriving. I hope you do as well."

He smiled broadly, though she couldn't see, and drifted to sleep quickly. The pull of unconsciousness was strong after such a work-intensive day, and he was truly exhausted.

For once he had to wait for her dreams to appear.

Racing to the edge of his world, he stared out, and there was nothing. A boulder sprouted beneath him, and he sat on it for several seconds before springing up and pacing.

Anaisa usually fell asleep very quickly. He hadn't yet found himself here before her.

With a heavy sigh, he turned and paced along the border in the other direction, furtively looking out. Nothing.

Time was hard to judge here. It could have been mere minutes, or much longer out in the real world. Dreams were that way. He pursed his lips. Was something wrong? Was there a reason Anaisa couldn't fall asleep?

Should he wake and check on her?

It was an exhausting thing to do, wake up before he was ready. He should wait a little while longer, perhaps. After all, it could have been mere seconds since he'd fallen asleep. She could be here any moment.

He waited, and nothing. With a deep breath, he pushed his dreamworld away, launching himself out of sleep with all his might.

Trace woke with a gasp, sitting up with an involuntary spasm. He hated doing that.

"Are you all right?" Anaisa's voice rang out from the other side of the blanket barrier.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," Trace assured her.

"Did you have a nightmare?" She sounded concerned, and fully awake. Not even a little drowsy.

"Something like that," He responded. "What about you? Trouble sleeping?"

There was a pause.

"I have a lot I'm thinking about. I will sleep soon, I'm sure."

"Anything you want to talk about?" He gently coaxed. It would be easier to see it in her dreams later, but far more rewarding if she would willingly share.

Another pause, this one longer. Exhaustion pulled at him. Forcefully waking himself was something his body tended to strongly protest.

"No, thank you, I will just try to sleep now." Came the soft reply just before his mind pulled him back under.

He couldn't race to the edge of his world quickly enough. He was just sure that whatever she was thinking of would be at the forefront of her dreams, or at least something reflective of it. Pleasant thoughts generally procured pleasant visions, anxious thoughts produced stress-filled situations, and so on.

He frowned. His preoccupation with this was unsettling. Why should her dreams hold such a lure for him?

Before he could berate himself, a faint, nebulous orb took shape in the void outside his world. Racing towards it, he stopped short and waited just outside the edge until it fully solidified. Inside wasn't the turmoil he noticed from her childhood nightmares, but a muted sort of anxiety instead.

Curious.

Chastising himself for his lack of self control, Trace stepped through the border and into Anaisa's dream.

To his absolute surprise, he was in his own home, or at least, a distorted version of it. That hadn't happened before.

Mildly disoriented by the sensation, he stepped out of view just as Anaisa's dream version of herself looked up at the top of the cabinets in the corner.

She frowned at them and looked away several times. He was confused at first by the repetition, until he noticed that each time, there was another event repeating in the room.

A letter, falling from the top of the cabinet.

Each time, Anaisa watched it fall, and looked away.

Trace's eyes widened with realization. She must have found the blackmail letter he'd put up there. It was out of her reach and sight line, as she was shorter, and so he had thought that would be a safe place for it.

Obviously he was mistaken. There was no reason for her to dream such a thing otherwise.

What did she know? His mind scrambled back through the contents of the letter. She hadn't treated him differently, that he'd noticed, but he hadn't been watching for any signs of change.

His mind raced. He needed to get out. The stressful flavor of the dream was affecting him, amplifying his disconcerted reaction to the news that at least part of his secrets had been revealed, and in the worst possible way.

Should he wake her up now and apologize?? He grimaced. He couldn't reveal anything without her being suspicious. Maybe he could just tell her the truth? The part about how he knew Katia was safe?

Was that manipulative, to only tell her because she already knew?

He slammed his fist into the wall in frustration, almost shattering the dream in the process.