Not a single dragon had been spotted in the kingdom in decades, not even in the northern territories. From what she’d been taught, this was a small one, but it was still three times her size, densely muscled and not easily dismissed.

  It scraped another step forward, its growl low. She retreated another footstep, holding her hands up. “Nice dragon?”

  Its eyes narrowed as smoke plumed from its slits of nostrils. And far behind Maribel, voices rose, full of panic.

  “Come on, we need to get out of here,” a woman shouted. Maribel almost agreed, until the woman spoke again. “Hurry, Thadeus, we need to run!”

  “Mamma, I’m stuck,” the little boy cried.

  Maribel’s heart froze as the dragon’s gaze shifted beyond her. Perhaps it wanted something leaner, something more tender, or more of a buffet.

  This is just a dream. It can’t hurt you or anyone else.

  The little boy cried. “Ouch, Mamma.”

  “Hold still while I get you loose.”

  It felt completely real.

  Maribel wasn’t ready to die, nor was she okay with letting innocent people outside the cave be devoured by the beast. But what could she do? She could make a run for the exit behind her, and could hopefully help free the little boy. But dragons were fast and lethal.

  She searched the chamber. Rock and more rock, but none on the ground she could pick up and throw. She may be able to make a dash and grab the torch, but were dragons even afraid of fire? They breathed it.

  Her searching eyes caught on the faint gleam of metal resting on a rocky ledge beneath the torch. A sword... She was short, and she hadn’t been taught to use a sword, but she would try. She would probably fail, but she would try.

  With the dragon distracted, sniffing out its prey behind Maribel, she seized the opportunity and sprinted for the sword. As she grasped the handle, the dragon turned to her, ready for its appetizer.

  She hefted the sturdy sword, shuffling her feet to place herself between the dragon and the exit. Standing tall, she firmly planted her feet and forced herself to sound much more courageous than she felt at the moment. “No. Stay away!”

  Opening its mouth, it displayed dozens of dagger-sharp teeth, and let out a deafening roar.

  Maribel fought her instincts to shrink, to run. She stepped forward, pointing the heavy sword at the dragon’s chest in warning. Several panicked voices and screams continued to echo behind her.

  The beast crept closer, more smoke billowing from its nostrils.

  No matter what, she refused to be intimidated, refused to back down. She too advanced a pace.

  Beads of sweat dripped down her neck. The cave was hot, the monster’s breath licking against Maribel’s skin.

  It opened its mouth again, a guttural growl rising as a stream of fire the color of its eyes billowed forth. Maribel charged. Before the blade connected with the dragon’s scales, the fire enveloped her.

  Gasping, Maribel woke in bed, drenched in sweat. She clawed at her skin, searching for burn marks. There were none. Nonetheless, she ripped off her bedding and stood. Unlatching the window, she yanked it open and sucked in cool, fresh air. The scent of recent rain, despite the bone-dry bushes and grass before her, helped clear the smoke that still lingered in her senses.

  It had been far too real. Her hands ached as she flexed them. She had gripped the sword like her life had depended on it.

  Maribel was jittery all morning, especially at breakfast as she choked down scrambled eggs and passed on the blood orange juice her mother offered. She promptly left the house and made her way to Athena’s.

  Athena invited her into the backyard, where they could have more privacy.

  “That was absolutely mad!” Maribel said. “My hands are killing me.”

  Athena blew out a breath. “Dragons... Wild. But why are your hands hurting? I ... actually don’t hurt at all this morning.”

  Maribel eased herself down on a wooden step of the porch. “From gripping the sword so tightly.”

  Raising her eyebrows, Athena sat next to her. “You tried to fight it?”

  “Yes... Didn’t you?”

  “I ran away,” Athena said.

  “Oh.” Maribel had known it was a dream at the time, but the lifelike reality had bolstered her determination to save the boy and mother. “That would have been the smart thing to do. I woke covered in sweat.”

  Athena frowned. “I think I’m done with these dreams.”

  “Do we even have a choice?”

  “Well...” Athena straightened the hem of her skirt. “I mean that when I woke ... I didn’t smell the rain.”

  Maribel’s heart dropped. They both knew what that meant. Each young maiden who had shared the dreams followed the same pattern. The first morning they woke without the smell of rain would be the end of the dreams, the end of their memories of it ever happening. Athena would sleep normally that night.

  She would be better off, too. Who wanted to lose sleep night after night, only to wake in pain? The girls who forgot could go about their regular lives. All but one of Athena and Maribel’s friends who had ever experienced the dreams had already forgotten them.

  Maribel hugged Athena. “I don’t want to do this alone,” she confessed. Perhaps there was a way to stop the dreams, but she honestly wasn’t sure she wanted to at the moment. They were intriguing, like a puzzle she yearned to piece together.

  Athena pulled back from the hug, giving her a smile. “Figure it out. Tell me someday how it all ends, and I promise to believe you.”

  Smiling in return, Maribel agreed to do just that.

  Two days later, Maribel was alone. Dozens of maidens around her age had shared the dreams, at least as far as she’d known. They had taken part in the adventure and danger and chaos of it, but she was the only girl she knew who still bore the burden.

  She visited Athena again, and explained it all.

  “Wow,” Athena said in awe. “That sounds exciting! You’re sure this happened to me, too?”

  Maribel nodded, and Athena shook her head. “It’s honestly a little hard to believe, but I’ve never known you to tell tales...”

  “I promise I’m not making it up.”

  The teakettle whistled from the kitchen, and Athena held up a finger. “I’ll be right back.”

  Minutes later, she returned with tea for them both. “Thanks for visiting. What’s on your mind?”

  Maribel furrowed her brow. “Just the dreams...”

  Athena smiled, taking a sip. “Dreams? What kind of dreams?”

  Her jaw dropping, Maribel struggled for words. “The dreams I just told you about...”

  “What do you mean?”

  She hadn’t only forgotten the dreams; she had forgotten being told about the dreams just minutes ago. Maribel’s heart grew hollow as she pretended nothing was wrong, as they drank tea and chatted about the decidedly dry summer.

  As she ambled home that day, Maribel was stumped. This had to be some kind of curse, right? Something that drove people momentarily mad? Some kind of magic that had tainted the rain at the queen’s passing, only unleashing itself on a narrow sliver of the population, in semipredictable ways?

  When she arrived home, she finally confessed everything to her mother. Her mother eyed her skeptically, and suggested they see a physician.

  They weren’t five footsteps from the front porch when Maribel voiced her doubts. “I really don’t think a physician can do anything about it...” Magic was rare, and she doubted anyone in these parts possessed it.

  Her mother paused, clutching her purse. She blinked. “Well, how severe is your neck pain?”

  “Like I said, the pain isn’t that bad. It’s the dreams and everything else.”

  Frowning, her mother caressed her cheek. “You’ve been having nightmares?”

  A boulder dropped in Maribel’s gut, and she kicked herself for hoping it would have somehow been different with her mother. She had already forgotten the primary reason for the physician’s visit.

  “Yes, nightmares,” Maribel replied weakly.

  Her mother nodded, still frowning. “I promise we’re saving for a new mattress; hopefully that will help. Let’s try some chamomile tea this evening to see if it will do the trick.”

  “Sure.”

  They abandoned the trip to the physician.

  Chapter Five

  After eighteen straight nights of these bewildering dreams, Maribel kept chasing the meaning, pondering the purpose during the days as she helped with chores and tried to go about her daily life.

  Still fully clueless as to Maribel’s plight, Celia dragged her to a couple of shops and then to Athena’s for a visit. The usual activities felt so meaningless. Maybe it was simply her loneliness, but Maribel feared there was more at play, that something in her was changing, evolving, emerging in the process.

  They wandered the empty pasture behind Athena’s home, plucking wildflowers and avoiding the dry old cow chips. “I saw Prince Jonas in his carriage the other day,” Athena said, a smile on her lips.

  “Any word on his bride?” Celia asked.

  Athena shook her head. “No. No one knows. He hasn’t said a thing, hasn’t been seen with a single girl.”

  Maribel had been too wrapped up in the mysterious dreams to think of the man. “Maybe he’s breaking tradition, and he’ll wait a while to take a bride. He’s likely still mourning.”

  Celia arched an eyebrow. “Are you serious? The royal family is blessed to rule. It’s tradition and law, and I don’t think he would risk breaking either.”

  Sniffing a fragrant bellflower, Maribel considered. Celia was probably right. And perhaps she should have been thinking about the prince more through this dream ordeal...

  This whole thing might be a warning, a premonition about the return of dragons, of society crumbling, of ... who knew what disjointed threat the mess of dreams hinted at. What if Maribel was the last person to still remember, and then her memories vanished like all the others?

  It was a bone-chilling thought. And what if it wasn’t a premonition? What if it was the beginning of an attack by a neighboring kingdom’s sorcerer? There hadn’t been war in these parts in centuries, and maybe mankind was due for another.

  “How does one get an audience with the prince?” Maribel asked.

  Celia and Athena smirked in unison.

  “Going to offer yourself as his bride?” Athena kidded.

  “If you do, please go in something pink or purple, not green,” Celia pleaded.

  Exasperated, Maribel rolled her eyes. “I’m not planning on throwing myself at him.”

  She let it go as they wandered the field and gossiped.

  A half hour later, she made an excuse to walk home alone. Celia stayed behind with Athena again.

  Kicking pebbles out of her path, Maribel seriously reconsidered the idea of approaching the prince. Her heart sank. If he somehow didn’t find her mad, he’d forget with his next breath what she’d told him, just like everyone else. She was a lower-middle-class commoner, too, and may not be granted an audience with him. Though, the queen had been much lower in station than even Maribel when the king had selected her as his bride, so hopefully the prince didn’t look down on the poor, not when his mother had once been.

  An idea sparked in Maribel’s mind as she straightened. Maybe he already knew what was going on, knew about this looming magical threat. Perhaps that was why he hadn’t been seen courting any maidens. He was too busy.

  She smiled as she recalled how regal he always looked. He would be a good king. He would take care of his people. She would like to meet him someday.

  Rubbing her lower back—her current pain of the day from a dream where she’d single-handedly rolled boulders in front of a flooding stream—she convinced herself that if this was indeed some type of threat, the prince was probably already on top of it.

  Invisible rain claimed her once again that night. Maribel’s eyelids fluttered. Her balance wavered as she took in the scene around her, her heart beating wildly.

  She stood atop a small platform floating high above a raging river. She gulped as she glanced over her shoulders. The edge of a canyon loomed far behind her, with no way in sight to reach it.

  The only exit from the platform was a narrow stone path directly in front of her, only wide enough to place one foot at a time.

  Her short height would probably help with her balance, her lower center of gravity useful as she would work her way across the path, but it was so high up here. She was afraid of heights, and the water below was far from welcoming.

  She squared her shoulders. These tasks often terrified her, but they also made her feel alive.

  Out of nowhere, an invisible hand, soft and warm, large and strong, grasped her left hand. She searched for the owner, but there was none. The hand squeezed hers, bolstering her courage as she took the first step.

  She loosed a breath, then placed the next foot forward. Her invisible companion helped improve her balance, step after step, as the torrent writhed far below.

  The path was straight, narrow as a balance beam. Each footstep was slow and intentional. Had she been an acrobat, it wouldn’t have taken her so long to cross, but she played to her strengths, and that of the imaginary help the dream had provided.

  After a painstakingly long time on the beam, she reached the end, her hand still firmly held by ... no one. She stood on another small platform, but had not quite reached the other edge of the canyon. There was no path forward. Only a terrifying gap for her short legs to try to jump across.

  Her breath shaky, she kept looking between the edge and the water below.

  “I can’t swim well,” she whispered. With that far of a drop, she likely wouldn’t even survive to try swimming if she fell.

  The warm hand squeezed again. “You can do this,” a voice whispered back. The voice was masculine, kind and reassuring, from where the man’s face might have been had the hand belonged to a real person.

  Maribel’s heart thundered in her chest. “I...”

  “You can do this,” the voice whispered again.

  “Okay.” She sucked in a breath, reminding herself it was only a dream. She wouldn’t actually die if she fell... Right?

  She held the hand tightly. “One... Two...” She crouched. “Three!” She lunged for the edge of the canyon, and the phantom hand released hers right before she landed on the other side on her stomach.

  Before she could thank the imaginary hand, she woke in bed to the aroma of fresh rain, a smile on her lips. Her thighs quivered from the exertion of having to balance so carefully for so long. She hadn’t even noticed how much they’d burned during the dream, not with the loud river below, not with her focus on the path and the man’s hand.

  As it was still early morning, she closed her eyes to get more sleep. This time as she nodded off, no rain accompanied her rest, but she kept a smile on her face. She hadn’t had a beau for some time. She would like to have a man hold her again, though more than just holding her hand.

  Nineteen nights. Nineteen nights in a row had been spent in rain-kissed dreams. Maribel genuinely couldn’t tell if she dreaded this pattern continuing, or if she looked forward to it at this point. If it was part of some greater threat, it wasn’t a very good one...

  She challenged herself to simply enjoy the day and try not to analyze the situation. It was sunny, and she needed to get out of the house.

  After breakfast, she called on Celia, and they strolled to the library together. The library was one of the biggest buildings in town.

  After an hour perusing books to borrow, they hefted bags full of novels to take home. Maribel’s selections focused on dreams, dragons, and magic. She’d tried to remind herself she was taking a day off from the mystery, so she’d wait until the next day to start reading them.

  “Less than two weeks before the coronation—and before we find out who he chose as his bride,” Celia said, changing which hand she carried her books with.

  Maribel smiled. “I hope he chooses well, and I hope he’s happy.” If the prince took after his parents, he would be kind and wise, and deserved the best.

  As Maribel settled into bed that night, she thought of Prince Jonas, and she mulled over her own life. He was facing a big decision, and stepping into big shoes as he ascended the throne and selected a life partner. Maribel’s decisions weren’t as weighty as his, but she still needed to sort out her future. She didn’t have a deadline for marriage, but she wouldn’t turn a man down, providing he was the right one.

  Before she knew it, familiar rain rocked her to sleep. Opening her eyes, she was blinded by white. She’d never seen anything like it before.

  The room—presuming it was a room—had no visible corners, walls, windows, ceiling, anything. It was just blank whiteness. There were no tasks she could discern. Was she supposed to find a way out?

  A knock sounded behind her, and she whipped around. “Hello?”

  “Are you dressed?” a male voice asked.

  She furrowed her brow. “What?”

  “Are you dressed?” he repeated.

  She glanced down at her nightgown. “Um... Yes...” It was a little odd to be in her nightgown. The dreams had usually dressed her in something appropriate for the adventure each night.

  An ornate wooden door appeared, the golden knob twisting. In strode an elegant man, his hands clasped before him. Not just any man—Prince Jonas.

  Maribel’s brain stuttered. “I... Hello... Your Highness?” She curtsied.

  He gave her a single nod, closing the door behind him. It vanished into the canvas of white. He said nothing, simply observing her.

  “I...” She cocked her head. “You’re... I mean ... this isn’t any different, right? Of course it’s not. I mean you’re not. I mean...” She tried to calm her racing mind, her rambling. He wasn’t actually here. None of the people had really been in her dreams.

  Her eyes widened. “You’re not dead, are you? Because my schoolteacher...”

  The prince’s lips twitched into a smile. “No, I’m not dead.”

 

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