The Fae King’s Dream by Jamie Schlosser
Over two thousand years ago in Valora
“And so, my precious son, the witches were angry. They’d been caught by the Day Realm soldiers, and their eyes were cut out for the plague they caused.” Mother gently sweeps my hair off my forehead. “The coven killed thousands of people, and it was time to pay. Their punishment was blindness.”
“Then what?” I ask impatiently.
“Then they wanted revenge, but not just on the ones who mutilated them—no, they wanted to hurt us all. They cast a curse on the firstborn children of the royal families, making it so that each prince would be blind until they find their fated mate, and if they so much as kiss someone else, they would be cursed forever.”
Clutching the blanket, I blink against the blackness always blocking my vision. “How will I know it’s her? If I can’t see into her eyes, my soul won’t be able to recognize her.”
“Remember your clues,” her soft voice reminds me. “She’s surrounded with buttons and strings. You’ll find her in someone else’s dreams.”
“Will you tell me the story again?” I sit up straighter against my pillows. “Start at the beginning—with the part about the Day Realm starting a war when they murdered the Night Realm king and queen, and how Father got vengeance for his parents when he hired the coven to make the Day people sick.”
“Your father regrets his dealing with the coven every minute of every day. If he’d known what it would do to you…” Mother sighs sadly. “Why do you always want to hear this story? It’s not a happy bedtime tale.”
“Because I want to make sure I know everything. I’m going to break the curse, Mother. I want to see. I have to see.”
Panic rains down on me when I think about never gaining my sight. I’ve lived all of my eight years without it, and I feel like a big part of me will always be missing until I have it.
“And you will. You just have to be patient.” Tucking the covers around me, Mother places a kiss on my forehead. “But now it’s time for sleep. Goodnight. Sweet nothingness, my dear.”
She can’t say sweet dreams because I don’t have them. Sometimes I like not dreaming. At least I can’t have nightmares. Other times, though, it’s lonely. It makes the darkness seem endless.
I hear her slippers shuffling on the stone as she makes her way to the door. Before she can get there, I ask, “Can I borrow your dreams tonight?”
As she comes back to me, there’s a quiet metallic clink as she removes a pin from her hair.
She slips it into the pocket of my shirt. “Always, my handsome little Dream Walker. You’ll see me soon, then.”