She jabbed me in the chest. “Focus.”
I chuckled. “That’s it. That’s my story.”
“That’s not it. Your story continues through your shadow. If the shadow king took your shadow, that means he’s the one who commanded it to then kidnap my gran. He wanted my gran, but why?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged helplessly. “I’m not the person to ask. If Gabby were here, she’d fight to get your gran with every part of her soul. Mal wouldhave a plan at the ready. He’d know every risk, have the whole thing mapped out. Me?” I grinned. “I just tell the jokes.”
An image flashed in my mind of a man covered in shadows, of a frail old woman chained and shivering in a cell as he floated over her. Shadows swirled over him in a fury.
One of my dreams.
I pushed away the images like I always did, pushed away the feelings of fear that flooded me. I shifted, and guilt speared me. If I’d allow those images in, could they tell me more? About her gran? About this shadow king? No. No. The dreams meant nothing, and relief was already rushing through me as I pushed the images to the farthest corners of my mind.
She raised her brows. “You just tell the jokes? You, who traveled from Apolis all the way to the isles of Valoris? I’d been trapped in a tower for twenty-two years, hidden from the world, and you—you found me. All because of a dream. I don’t believe for one second that all you do is tell the jokes, Lochlan Aster, and I don’t think you really believe that either.” Her gaze shot through me, like she saw through all the muscle, the charm, the flirting. Like she saw me.
Blood and water. I tugged at my ear. “Well, your gran had to be someone important enough to help this shadow king with his mission. If he is planning on waging war, then your gran must have information, something valuable that can help him in that quest. He sent my shadow across the Dark Seas, all the way up to the sky court to find her. She’s valuable, Poppy, and if you know anything...”
She broke eye contact, gaze dropping to her folded hands. She was silent for a moment, then blew out a breath. “I told you that my gran kept secrets. One thing I haven’t mentioned that might be worth knowing is that Gran has shadow magic.”
I went still, mind reeling from that revelation. “Your gran was from the shadow court?” Fuck me. That was big. I’d assumed her gran was a sky elemental, like her. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”
“I didn’t know if I could trust you,” she snapped, cheeks flushing.
“And now?” I asked.
Silence. Right. That answered that question. She still didn’t fully trust me, but she had told me this. That was something. A step in the right direction.
“So what do we do?” she asked.
“We go to the library,” I said, unsure that would do anything. “Every court has one, located in the royal city. We go, and we look through records of those who survived the Shadow War, try and find your gran—anything about her.” I took a deep breath, readying myself to ask a hard question. “Are you sure she was actually your gran?”
It could be possible. Magic was passed down through the mother. So her mother could have been from Valoris and her father from Sorrengard, though that didn’t seem likely.
Poppy barked out a laugh. “No, of course not.”
My mouth went agape.
She rolled her eyes. “She has shadow magic. Not to mention, her skin is a russet brown and I’m as pale as the clouds. Besides, Gran never pretended we were related. But it never mattered. We were still family.”
I reached out and laid a hand over hers, that shock jolting up my arm at the innocent touch. “I’m sorry.” I didn’t even know what I was saying sorry for. I just knew that’s how I felt.
“I know,” she said softly, her gaze rising to meet mine. She bit her lip. “Is that who you dream about? You seem so restless in your sleep.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve kept you up. Driscoll complains about it all the time.”
“No.” She shook her head. “It just seems like you’re in pain, in anguish.”
I spread my hands wide. “I wish I could remember my dreams. I think I dream of my shadow, what it’s seeing, what it’s feeling, but no matter how hard I try to remember, I can’t.”
A voice whispered that that wasn’t the full truth. That I didn’t want to remember my dreams. Because remembering might mean feeling too much pain, too much anxiety. Too much of everything that I generally avoided.
She studied me with a curious expression. “But you remembered your dreams about me.”
“I did,” I said, not able to explain any of it, though I wondered if I remembered Poppy because of a very simple reason: that she was not something I could ever forget, not since the first night she appeared in my dreams.
We stared into each other’s eyes, and I couldn’t look away fromthose green irises, reminding me so much of the green of the very mountains we’d been traveling through. So bright, so spirits-damned beautiful.
I had the urge to lean over and press my lips against hers, to pin her to the bed so we could both forget whatever pain we were feeling. If she were any other woman, I just might. Use her body as a release. But no, I wouldn’t do that to her when I knew full well I couldn’t commit. I pulled back, and shock flashed in Poppy’s eyes.
