“The rest have been burned.” My voice shook. “All of them.”
Trinity’s eyes flashed. “How unfortunate. With everything those notebooks contained…such a waste.”
While I regretted the loss of Mother’s notebooks, they were of little consequence compared to the information Trinity had revealed. A more pressing question burned on my tongue, one I wanted to ask almost as desperately as I didn’t want to know the answer.
“How do you know so much about Mother’s powers? Were you friends with her?”
Trinity smiled. “I’m friends with many Cultivators, both Dreamers and Nightmares. I believe it’s important to study both areas of magic in order to fully enhance one’s abilities. It may do you some good to look more into nightmare weaving.”
My skin prickled at her knowing look and my heart flared. Could she know about the nightmare flower I’d accidentally created? “I could never—”
She laughed lightly. “I was only teasing.”
But I wasn’t convinced she really had been.
Trinity reverently stroked the page of a carnation that could change the sensations of each detail within a dream. “I’d forgotten how incredible these plants are. With the ability to create new magic…the opportunities are limitless.”
“So they aren’t illegal?” I asked. “Because I was afraid—Mother wouldn’t—” I couldn’t finish.
Trinity laughed. “Being created by unusual magic only makes these plants rare, special; not bad, only secret. Because these plants are so remarkable, they would undoubtedly give a Weaver a distinct advantage. The Council fears the unknown. You yourself understand this, which is why you’ve kept your own powers a secret, even from your friends.”
Had that been the sole reason the Council had acted against Mother, or was there more to the story? Trinity was the only one who knew the truth. The fact that she knew Mother intimately indicated they’d been quite close, and despite the fact that she’d been suspended, I wanted to believe that anyone Mother trusted was worthy of my own trust.
I took a wavering breath. “Mother is the Weaver who disappeared after the Council suspended her, isn’t she?”
Trinity paused in flipping through the notebook. She was silent for a long moment, during which I silently pleaded for her to deny my suspicions. She slowly looked up. “The Council is afraid of any magic different than their own, especially when it’s of far greater power. Which is why it’s imperative you keep your own powers secret unless you want to suffer the same fate.”
Fear cinched my chest. It was the same warning Stardust had given me. “What can I do?” I asked, each word a struggle past my dry throat. “My position in the Dream World is already precarious even without the Council learning of my connection to Mother. If they ever find out—”
Trinity’s lips curled into a smirk. “You can begin by doing more than you’re currently doing. I know of your failed experiments in using your dream abilities, a foolish way to use such a rare gift.”
My heart pounded. How had she learned about my failed dream experiments? It took me a moment to find my voice. “I only want to help maintain the balance.”
She snorted. “The balance has always been in danger. Light and darkness cannot coexist. One day one will eclipse the other. Your efforts would be better served elsewhere.” Her gaze became penetrating. “Your Mother was never afraid to develop her extraordinary powers, yet you seem determined to squander your own unique abilities. If you could learn to use your power to your advantage, it could be the key that would allow you to remain in our world forever.”
Her words tantalized my thoughts with unquenchable yearning. “But how could my ability to enter dreams possibly help me?”
“I have a theory that your abilities would allow you to take the one thing found in dreams which is impossible to cultivate—a Mortal’s emotions. Weaving emotion directly into a dream—rather than relying on whatever meager amount that’s produced by the Mortal—would yield unbelievable amounts of dream dust. You would be unstoppable. Can you imagine?” Her eyes glistened at the prospect.
To be able to win every Weaving…the idea was intoxicating. For a moment, I allowed myself to explore the possibility of weaving dreams more incredible than even the masterpieces I’d stolen glimpses of over the years. My imagination came to life—I could feel the weight of my bulging dream locket resting beneath my collar, see the Council’s approving smiles as they invited me to live here forever, and especially imagine Darius’s continuous crestfallen expression as he lost every single night. Though I knew the distance we’d put between ourselves was necessary, it still hurt. The longer it went on, the more I feared I’d exaggerated the memory of how kind he’d been after the festival. The larger these fears grew, the harder it was to hold on to the trust I’d developed for him. Perhaps part of me still resented his skill, because the idea of defeating him so soundly tempted me, making the vision Trinity presented alluring…a bit too alluring.
It took great effort to shake my head. “But it’s cheating.”
“It’s not cheating,” Trinity said. “You’d only be using an unconventional method to receive the dream dust you so justly deserve. You’re already at an unfair disadvantage because you didn’t attend the Academy, not to mention you’ve been paired with a Weaver who graduated top of his class. It’s almost as if the Council set you up to fail. Of course, if you don’t want to win…”
“But I do!” The words tumbled out before I could suppress them. “More than anything.”
Trinity leaned closer with a hard, blazing look. “Then prove it. You’ve been blessed with a gift previously unheard of, and what do you do? You ignore it, content to barely scrape by, just to be fair to that pompous partner of yours. You could
