The Secret World of Briar Rose(51)

Malicine continued stewing in irritation while they healed Corin’s wounds. Corin tested their patience anyway.

“What the hell was that island?” she demanded.

“A place I separated from the rest of the dreamworld,” they growled. “Get close to Autumnland, and the island will drag you down into its abyss.”

“I don’t understand. You were the one who created this world. I thought this was supposed to be a perfect paradise for—”

“Just because it’s a dream doesn’t mean it can’t turn into a nightmare,” they said. “Imagine every skeleton you’ve kept locked in your closet. Autumnland is where they stay. And if you visit them, they will kill you.”

“You mean I’ll wake up,” Corin said with wariness, as if this were a test.

“No. Amelia may be the one sleeping, but our bodies crossed from the physical world to the dreamworld when we entered. Which means if you die here, you will cease to exist at all.”

The words raised goose bumps to the back of Corin’s neck. She imagined turning into nothing, as if she’d never been real to begin with. As if she’d never even mattered.

She glanced at Briar, whose skin slowly filled with color again. The princess ran her hands over her arms, rubbing them for warmth and hiding the prickles of flesh that Corin had seen stained with blood. The strange visions in the dark depths of the ocean revealed something real. Perhaps it was the only real thing Corin had witnessed throughout the dreamworld.

I see you, Amelia.

“We should continue our journey,” Briar murmured. “There’s no need to revisit the currents again.”

Corin knew what Briar did not want to discuss what happened. The girl needed to avoid the pain, even if it meant severing whoever she loved before. But the agony Corin had experienced in the ocean told her it didn’t matter how deep Briar tried to bury her suffering. It would always breathe back into their lungs, one way or another.

Waves crashed against the shore and retreated like a whisper. Sunlight trickled across the beach, and a group of tiny spheres glinted like stars in the sand. Corin recognized the pearls that had spewed from her throat moments ago. As they melted in sand, a small wire emerged from each gem, stringing them together into a necklace. She picked them up and inspected closer. The coating had worn off, and the glass base underneath had been what caught the light. There was a stain on several of them, so small and minuscule that they could have been constellations.

But stars were never as red as this, and blood had never looked so familiar.

? ? ?


THE VISIONS CONTINUED taunting the back of Corin’s mind, distracting her from new senses in Summerland. They had left the beach to hike an upward slope in a jungle, where the air turned thick and warm, and sweat drenched the back of her shirt. Somehow, Elly had enough energy to climb thick trees and tangled vegetation. She combed her fingers through tropical flowers and splashed her boots in mud to see how far they’d splatter her clothes. Malicine even entertained her whimsies and led her below a canopy. They made Elly look up at the overhang until it burst with colorful birds, and she laughed in delight, climbing vines to reach them.

Corin took advantage of their distraction by seizing Briar’s arm. She pulled the girl behind a thick cluster of ferns. Hanging foliage swayed behind their heads like curtains, shielding the two from view. Corin cornered Briar against a tree trunk, her palm pressed against the bark, her voice lowered into a whisper.

“What the hell did I see back there?” she hissed.

“It was just a nightmare,” Briar replied evenly, like she had practiced this response. “It wasn’t real.”

“You’re lying. That was a memory.” Those visions had felt too real to be imagined, too painful to be a dream. Grief clung to Corin’s chest long after the mirages disappeared, twisting her heart as if she, too, had experienced the worst night of her life and wanted to die. “Why are you hiding Amelia?”

A flash of pain crossed Briar’s face. Her eyes lost focus, clouds from a dark night shading the once bright color of sea glass. The rosy blush in her cheeks left behind pallor and clenched teeth.

“The stories say Gyldan would prosper so long as their royalty carries golden blood. But such things never held weight. The king and queen died because of Amelia,” Briar said. “It is better to be a coward. When I try to fight, it only ends in death. At least here, I can forget. I can be someone else.”

“But you’re not someone else,” Corin argued. “You’re Amelia. You saved me. Which makes everything confusing, because I’m supposed to hate you.”

Sunlight filtered through the trees, fractures of light falling on Briar’s face like crystal gems, yet never meeting her eyes. Their breaths were warm against each other’s faces as they stared at each other. If Corin looked long enough, she could see the small crack in Briar’s lips, the uneven rise and fall of her chest. If she stroked Briar’s jaw, she could notice the way it clenched, the vulnerability of flaws that lingered behind a false painting. Corin had felt Briar’s despair so acutely, because it lived in her bones as well.

She longed to meet Amelia and tear open her heart. She wanted to peer inside that bleeding organ and ask, How did you know this was my pain, too?

“I saw you, too,” Briar said. “When we were drowning in the ocean. Your memory with your friends. And what you told Elly before she ran away.”