Page 36 of Cursed Dreams (Shadow and Dreams #1)

T he dance was held in the heart of the town square, where lanterns floated high above like soft-burning stars, their golden glow swaying gently with the evening breeze.

Garlands of dried leaves in shades of rust and gold were strung between rooftops, rustling softly overhead.

Tables crowded the edges of the square, heavy with warm breads, roasted fruit, and carafes of spiced wine.

Near the fountain, a group of musicians played a lively tune, the rhythm weaving through the crowd.

Thalia sat just at the edge of it all, watching.

She'd dressed with care, more out of habit than excitement. The gown she wore was a shade of twilight blue, the kind of colour that clung to the sky just before night settled. Silver thread lined the hem and cuffs, delicate, understated, but it caught the lantern light in a way that made her pause. It reminded her too much of him. Caelum. The memory of his touch, of the golden light, stirred beneath her skin. She hadn’t meant to think of him tonight.

Nyla had helped her dress, fussing over her hair with gentle fingers and quiet reassurances.

Marand had offered the dress from her own chest, insisting it brought out Thalia’s eyes.

Even Cellen had refrained from teasing too much, though he’d made a dramatic vow to ensure she had “exactly three moments of joy or he’d consider the night a personal failure. ”

She’d smiled for them. Let herself be swept along in their plans, but her chest still felt heavy.

The lanterns above shifted gently, flickering in the breeze, and her eyes followed their movement.

Something about the way they hung in the air, bright, still, distant, reminded her of Vaelith.

Not in a way she could explain. She didn’t know what to make of it.

Of him. There were moments she caught herself watching doorways, expecting to see him walk through.

And she hated that. She didn’t even know why she felt this way.

By the time the second round of drinks arrived, sweet fruit wine laced with cinnamon and honey, Thalia had managed to loosen her shoulders a little. The square was fully alive now, glowing and full of movement. Laughter rose over the music, and someone near the fountain had started singing.

Nyla was the first to grab her hand and pull her from her seat, eyes bright. “Come on,” she said. “Just one dance. You’ll feel better.”

Thalia didn’t protest. Not really. The music rose around them, and she let herself fall into step beside Nyla, the two of them spinning gently at first, then more freely.

Their skirts caught the lantern light, flaring with each turn, and Thalia laughed, a breathy, startled sound, when Nyla twirled her too fast.

Across the square, Cellen had already dragged Marand out, spinning her dramatically until she shrieked with laughter. He dipped her low with a flourish, beaming like he’d just pulled off a miracle.

“Gods, he’s ridiculous,” Nyla giggled as she and Thalia returned to their table for more wine, breathless and glowing with exertion.

“He is,” Thalia agreed, watching the way Cellen gently placed a hand at the small of Marand’s back as they continued dancing, the two of them now drifting into a more natural rhythm, faces close and smiling like no one else existed around them.

“You think they’ve figured it out yet?” Nyla asked, nudging her.

Thalia laughed softly. “Not a chance.”

They sat for a moment, sipping their drinks, both of them watching the blossoming flirtation unfold.

Then Thalia noticed a man weaving through the crowd toward them, tall with cropped hair and a familiar smirk. "He looks familiar?” she murmured. Nyla turned just as the man arrived and leaned down to whisper something into her ear. She blinked in surprise, then flushed.

“He just asked me to dance,” she said quietly, glancing at Thalia, suddenly unsure. “Should I?”

Thalia smiled, nudging her gently. “Go. I’m fine. Honestly, I like watching you all. It's nice.”

“You sure?”

“I‘ll be fine, I promise.”

Nyla gave her a quick hug and headed out into the crowd, the man offering his hand and leading her away, their laughter fading into the swell of music.

Left alone at the table, Thalia leaned back in her seat, wine glass in hand, soaking in the scene around her, the dancing bodies, the shimmer of lanternlight on skin and silk, the ever-present hum of magic in the air.

She became aware of someone settling into the seat beside her.

She turned, already lifting a brow to say the seats were taken, the words caught in her throat.

The man pulled back his hood slowly, deliberately.

Pale blue eyes met hers and her heart stopped.

Her breath caught in her throat as Caelum lowered his hood, the soft festival lights catching the glint in his pale blue eyes.

He looked almost out of place here, this dream-turned-reality sitting across from her in the middle of a crowded, living square.

The moment their eyes met, the rest of the world fell away.

“You’re here,” she breathed.

He smiled softly. “Barely.”

“How?”

His gaze drifted upward to the flickering lanterns overhead, then to the fae and human revellers dancing, laughing, singing all around them. His voice came low, laced with a bittersweet kind of wonder.

“This night… the Festival of Esku,” he said. “The veil between realms thins, just for a little while. When the barriers are weak, sometimes, rarely, I can slip through. Like this.”

“So you’re not really here,” she whispered, the weight of it settling heavily in her chest.

“No,” he admitted gently. “Not in the way you are. When dawn comes, I’ll fade again.”

She stared at him, struggling to wrap her mind around it. He was sitting beside her, solid, warm, close enough to touch and yet not truly here. Her thoughts twisted with the impossibility of it.

“Can anyone else see you?” she asked, uncertain.

That drew a soft laugh from him, low and rich. “Yes,” he said, amused. “I’m not a ghost, Thalia. I’m just… not meant to stay.”

She didn’t know whether that made it better or worse.

He looked at her then, more intently. His voice dropped. “I felt you last night.”

Her blood turned to ice.

Caelum’s expression was unreadable. “Your emotions Thalia, they were… sharp. Overwhelming. I couldn’t reach you, but I felt all of it. Pain. Guilt. Desire.” His gaze sharpened. “It felt like you were being torn in two.”

Her heart lurched, a flush creeping up her neck as panic clawed at her throat.

She’d been with Vaelith. His mouth on her skin. Her back against the wall. The raw need in her chest and the explosion of light, of magic, from within her. She had felt like she was on fire, like something ancient had awakened in her bones. Caelum had felt that? Gods.

Her skin prickled with shame, her voice small. “I… I’m sorry.”

Caelum tilted his head, watching her carefully. “Don’t be. I just needed to know. Are you with someone?”

She scrambled for words. “No. I’m not. It’s not like that.” She hesitated, hating the twist in her gut. “It’s… complicated.”

She didn’t mention the light. Vaelith’s broken expression.

She didn’t say anything and she didn’t even know why.

She had questions, yet in this moment she couldn’t seem to find the courage to voice them.

It wasn’t like she belonged to Caelum. He was trapped.

In another realm. In dreams. He wasn’t hers, and she wasn’t his.

Wanting more was impossible. So why did her heart twist like this?

Caelum was quiet for a long moment, then finally said, “I understand.”

But something in his voice, low, pained, told her he didn’t entirely.

He looked away, jaw tight. When he spoke again, his voice was lighter. “This celebration… it’s beautiful.”

She blinked, surprised by the shift. “It is.”

A distant smile crossed his lips. “In my court, we had something like this. When the seasons turned. We’d cover the trees in silver-threaded lanterns. Dance in the snow until our boots wore through. There’d be music, wine, fire pits and laughter that echoed through the woods for hours.”

She stared at him, imagining it. his world, full of ancient beauty and magic, lost now to time and war. The way his voice softened with longing made her chest ache.

“I’d love to see it,” she said quietly.

His eyes returned to hers, bright and endless.

“I want you to,” he said. “Gods, Thalia. I want so badly for you to see it.” His voice caught slightly. “I miss it more than I can explain.”

A strange swell of emotion rose in her, grief for something she never knew, never saw, but suddenly longed for.

Caelum turned to her fully, his voice lowering, intimate. “Will you dance with me?”

She hesitated. Her heart was already tangled. Torn between past and present. Shadow and dream. The warmth of one man and the light of another. She looked into Caelum’s eyes noting the way he looked at her like she was something precious, the answer left her lips before she could think.

“Yes.”

The moment Thalia’s fingers touched Caelum’s, the world around her shifted.

She rose from her seat as if in a trance, barely aware of the music still playing, the distant laughter, the lights dancing across the square.

All she could feel was the warmth of his palm against hers, the steady pull of something unseen, like a thread of fate had looped itself around them and was drawing them ever closer.

Caelum led her toward the edge of the square where the music was slower, softer. The dancers there moved in a gentle sway, bathed in golden lanternlight. Everything else seemed to blur around the edges.