Chapter 11
Dream within a Dream
A fter the cats had been fed and returned to their proper places around the shop, Tabitha spent all evening working through her unfinished projects. She completed the final stitch of Lady Sabine’s dress and allowed herself to rest her head on the table just for a moment, but when she opened her eyes again, shadows had fallen over her work. The dress in front of her was no longer Lady Sabine’s, but a dress she had worked on three years ago, when Tom was still a cat.
A familiar voice came from behind her as if in confirmation. “Those ruffles are hideous, Tabs. You cannot save that one; it should be burned.”
Tom. Another dream. Another distraction. And she didn’t have the time or patience for any of his nonsense. She waved a hand back behind her as if to shoo him away. He was nothing but an ornery tabby cat, and she was still angry at him. “There is nothing wrong with a few ruffles. They make the world a bit more exciting. Now, hush or find something more useful to do.”
He laughed at her then, footsteps only coming closer. She could feel his light touch on her shoulder, his breath on the shell of her ear. “Well, you are fiery tonight. I think I like it.”
Tabitha peered back at him, curious in spite of herself. Light-hearted mirth shown in his hazel eyes and the subtle quirk of his lips . . . But she didn’t want to think about his lips. “This is a dream, but you . . . you still remember me?”
“Of course I do. I told you I could.”
Her frustration resurfaced. At him. At her. At the whole situation. “But you can’t even remember your own name!”
He took a step back, his face filled with perfect puzzlement. “I do. It’s Tam—”
“No.”
“Tom—”
“No!” She had no more time or desire to be coy with him. “Your name is Leopold, and you are the Crown Prince of Umbrae. You shouldn’t even be talking to a girl like me.”
If anything, Tom only looked more confused. “A girl like you?”
Did she really have to say it? “A commoner. A street urchin. A daughter of a . . .” She stopped, unwilling to say what everyone thought of her mother, even while she was trying to push Tom away with her words. She finished with a truth that wasn’t nearly so raw. “I don’t even know who my father was.”
Tom laughed. “Well, if you don’t know, then why should I care who he was? That’s just one less person I would have to share you with. I may not remember a whole lot, but I know I must be terrible at sharing. Besides, weren’t you just telling me that my father is a king and I’m a prince? I’m certain that means that I can talk to whomever I wish.” His eyebrows danced. He was laughing at her. Then he stepped closer again, like the danger intrigued him. “And I rather like talking to you. Perhaps that is why I dream of you so often.”
“And that fae woman I saw you with? Do you dream of her too?” Tabitha shook her head. Tom only looked confused again and confronting him like this wasn’t as satisfying as it should have been. And perhaps she wasn’t being fair. When Granny Tailor had encouraged Tabitha to find her own dream, she had only thought of Tom. But it had still been her wish, her dream. And perhaps it had been more selfish than she had realized. His kiss had taken her by surprise, making her see stars, but before that, she had only wanted Tom back the way he was before.
Her silent confidant and protector. Her secret friend who was just her own.
Her cat.
But that wasn’t who Tom was anymore. Perhaps that was never who he was. He was a prince, and—even if she brought him home, even if he claimed to love her—she couldn’t expect to keep him.
He would have his own dreams to pursue.
And some of those dreams might very well include another woman. He could be destined to marry another royal, while Tabitha, like her mother before her, might only be someone to whisper sweet lies to as a mildly pleasant way to spend an afternoon.
In any case, it wasn’t something she wanted to continue to examine right now.
She could press on with only the facts she knew for certain. “I shouldn’t be mad at you. We were only ever friends, and you can kiss anyone you like. I just wanted to help you, but if you’re happier there . . .” She stopped. How could he be happier there? “Which would you choose, Tom? Can you choose, or is that part of the magic?”
Tom paused before answering, instantly becoming more sober and unsure. “I don’t . . .”
“You don’t remember?” Tabitha took a step closer.
She couldn’t stand to see him so altered, no matter what else happened between them.
“I was stray, so the Prince of Beasts took me in to be the Queen’s thrall,” he said, as if those were the only words that could ground him.
“Prince of Beasts?” The way Tom kept centering on this had to be important.
“He is the Queen’s grandson and son of the Autumn Princess. And . . .” Tom took an extra beat to grapple with the words, like he could only say them with great effort. “He still speaks to me sometimes.”
“About what?”
Tom threw out his hands in exasperation. “I don’t know. I never know. It seems that we must speak for hours, but at the end, I never remember what was said.” He frowned. “Is that odd?”
Perhaps not as odd as it should have been. The fae prince had told Tom to forget her, and perhaps that was a command he could enforce if needed. “And you still don’t remember anything else?”
“Only that . . . There are emerald eyes. A voice in my head . . . I have to serve the Queen. She has to love me.”
The beautiful fae woman was the Fae Queen? He had been kissing his captor? “Why?”
“Well, if she loves me, then . . .” He paused, holding his head. It couldn’t be an easy memory to access. In fact, it looked like he was in pain, but Tom was still her courageous hero. She believed he would keep trying no matter how hard things got, and they could figure this out together. She couldn’t kiss him again, but she took his hand, and that seemed to help as he focused on her in earnest. “Maybe she’ll tell me something—something he’ll find useful?”
“He’s using you as a spy,” Tabitha concluded. He was a pawn in a dangerous game, and it could come crashing down at any moment. She never should have left him.
She should have been strong enough to help him without expecting anything in return.
And if he still wanted the Fae Queen or some other royal woman . . . she could accept it. She would steel her heart and find some way to accept it. She just needed to bring him home—bright-eyed and sober—so she could know for sure.
“Can I help you? Please?” Tom’s pride would make it difficult for him to accept the offer, but would he do it for her?
Already he was turning to look over his shoulder at something unseen, not even given a chance to fully react to her words. He winced. “They’re calling me. I can’t stop them.”
Maybe he couldn’t. But she would—no matter what it took. “I’ll bring you back. I’ll let you choose. And then, I’ll let you go if I have to—let you be the prince you were always meant to be. Just promise me that it won’t be too late. That you’ll keep fighting until I get there.”
“Fighting? Fighting what?”
She was clasping him with both hands now, strengthening her grip. She still couldn’t kiss him—not with his mind so clearly altered, not without knowing that he would be hers to keep—but she would hold his hand for as long as she could. “Fight for me and whatever part of your mind is still your own. Fight for your Tabitha and for my Tom, and the power of two dreamers who meet and become one.”
Tom’s figure flickered again. A look of panic crossed his face, and then he was gone. Replaced by someone else. A fair-haired woman with remarkable elven beauty stood in a gossamer gown.
Her empty gray eyes didn’t acknowledge Tabitha’s presence.
Her berry-red lips didn’t move.
But something whispered with the breathy voice of the wind.
Tabitha, please come.
The Fae Queen. That had been her, but also the same voice Tabitha had heard in her previous dreams. Had the queen been aware of all the times Tabitha and Tom had walked together? Tabitha wasn’t sure, but when she woke, she easily found Tom’s hair bead and the brass key from the witch’s cottage in her apron pocket. All real.
And Bandit was waiting by the door as if the cat already knew he would be needed.
She scooped him up, ready to face her fears. She had to go and find her Tom.
And while she didn’t know how exactly she would get back to the Fae Realm, she knew someone else who might.
The Marquis of Carabus.