I love hearing the passion in his voice. It’s strange that our dreams are still connected even though we aren’t dreaming of each other.
“I think about you constantly,” he says. “In my dreams. It’s bad. The hurt and grief and sorrow. It makes me so depressed when I wake up.”
I know how he feels because I feel the same way when I wake up.
“Where did they take you?” he asks. “I mean, what is your homeland like?”
“I don’t know what it’s called, but it’s an enormous palace. All I’ve seen so far are bits and pieces of the palace, but it’s all very familiar to me. It’s very Rococo. It seems as though it’s the late 18th century France. What do you think this all means?”
“I have no idea. You mentioned Vincent in your dreams. Do you share them with him, too?”
“No. But,” I trail off. I chew the inside of my mouth.
“What?”
Am I about to confess this? Who better to tell it to than the person I share dreams? Heat pricks beneath my cheeks. “When we kiss, we both see visions. They look like events from our past and it seems to match what’s in my dreams.” What is going on with my life? It makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. I’m on the verge of crying. More or less, I think I’m freaking out. I can’t sleep without having something to worry about, since there seems to be a life inside my dreams. “Are all of us connected in some way?”
“I don’t know, Megan.”
“I’m scared to talk to Vincent about it. I mean, we talk about the visions and he’s just as freaked out. Because he’s jealous of you, I can’t tell him about us.”
“I know. I don’t think you should tell him. I wish I had answers. I wish I could see you.”
I wish I could see him, too. But I’m not going to tell him that. “I know,” I say.
This is dangerous territory that I’m encroaching. I can’t help the way my heart feels when I hear Casper’s voice. I need to stop, but I can’t. We talk more about Adam and how we can proceed to find out more. But with Casper in the hospital and me confined to a bed, our options are limited. I’ll talk to Vincent. He can help. But I don’t want Adam coming after Vincent, too.
Vincent parades me around the large palace and most of the people seem so glad to see me, however, there are some who seem to dislike the fact that I’m back. I hear their whispers. Saying I’m a traitor and how I don’t deserve to be back. The ones that are glad to see me smile and tell me how much they missed me. We stand in a circle talking to others in the parlor. I have known these people my entire life, yet I feel out of place.
“Megan,” a loud voice calls behind us. “Is that really you?”
I turn and meet the green eyes of a woman with large blond curls and a voluptuous body. Florence, my childhood friend. It’s so good to see her.
Her jaw drops and she smiles widely. She rushes up to me and hugs me. “Megan, I cannot believe it’s you.”
“Florence.” She pulls away and her smile is infectious.
“You remember me.” She gushes and glances at Vincent.
“Yes. I don’t remember the last seven years,” I say.
“What did they do to you? We have so much to catch up on.”
“Maybe some other time, Florence,” Vincent says and tugs me along. I silently apologize to Florence and walk with Vincent out of the room.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him as we stride down a long hallway with a red rug.
He smiles impishly. “I’m selfish right now.” He pushes open ornate double doors and we walk out into the hedge maze.
We meander along the gravel path, my hand intertwining with his. I remember playing in this labyrinth with Vincent. We have so many memories together, perhaps we can make new memories. He’s all I need.
“I don’t want you to be sad,” he says.
“I know, but why would I be sad? It’s Florence.”
“The man who took you had a friend who was seen with her. People say they saw her with him, in love, and before we returned from the mission, the man left, but he wiped her memory of him completely.”
“Why would they do that? We know they exist.”
“So, she wouldn’t remember what they looked like or where they hide out.”
“Why did some of the people in the palace give me such dismayed looks?”
He sighs. “Some of them think you’re a traitor.”
“Is that why I was in the cellar? Because they think I betrayed them?”
Vincent nods and I look away.
It’s unsettling to think that people I have always known now see me as a traitor. But something else is disturbing. Not only have I lost the last seven years of my life, but something heavily weighs on me.
We reach the end of the maze and walk through the tall wheat field. Something tugs at me when I see the golden wheat sway in the wind. As my hand caresses the tops of the blades, I meander through them, knowing Vincent is behind me at a distance. The wind is brisk, and the scent of lavender fills me. The blond color of the wheat has an unusual effect on me. It makes my heart beat fast. I
