A Court of Snow and Storms

5. Blows of Reality

He was back in that black walled room with glistening windows, shielded by russet colored drapes. Back on that four-poster mahogany bed, draped with burgundy sheets. Back in the faebane collar and chains. He felt detached from his body. He was there, and yet he wasn't. He felt, and yet he didn't.

Panic flooded his mind as he lifted his shackled hands to the collar. He jerked, but it wouldn't budge. His chains rattled and he pulled harder. Footsteps echoed in the hallway beyond the room. He lurched against the chains, retching as they went taut and the collar wedged against his neck.

He had to get out of there. He had to break free. She was almost at the door. If she entered and he was still chained... His heart raced with terror and a frantic sob slipped past his lips before he could stop it.

The door opened and there she was. Alive. Breathing. Her bloodstained lips curled into a taunting grin. "Hello, Pet." She tilted her head, raven hair spilling over her shoulder. "What's wrong?" He couldn't answer. She came closer, picking at her talon-like nails. "Answer me when I ask you a question."

"Nothing's wrong."

"You should know better than to lie to me." She sat on the bed beside him, threading her fingers through his loose hair. "I'll give you another chance. Tell me the truth, Pet. What's troubling you?"

"You're dead."

"Really?"

"You're dead and you shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be here!" He tugged at his collar again. "This isn't real. You're not real. I know you're not. You're dead!" Tears blurred his vision and he kept jerking on his chains. "Please let me wake up. I want to wake up!"

"You're already awake, Pet," she cooed, hooking a finger beneath his chin. "And you're being very ungrateful for all that I've given you."

"No." A tear slipped down his cheek. "No, I have to be dreaming. This isn't real."

"That's what you said about Elodie's head, isn't it?"

She gestured to a glass case situated atop a pedestal. He couldn't look. She forced him to. Inside the case sat the severed head of Elodie. Ellie. His dream.

"No," he rasped. "It's not real."

"I think your memory is failing you. Come feel it. It's real."

She guided him off the bed and across the room. He wanted to resist. He had to resist. What if he was wrong and the head was real? "No. No, please." He closed his eyes as his tears kept falling. "Please."

She removed the glass case and drew his hands away from his chest. His palm touched coarse and thinning hair. Decomposing wrinkled skin. "Open your eyes," she commanded. "Now."

He obeyed. His hand rested on Ellie's head. It was real. She was gone. This was hers. It was real. This was real. He was still in that room. Melantha was still alive. He couldn't stop crying. Why couldn't he make himself stop?

"There, now, Pet. Don't be sad. You have centuries, maybe thousands of years, with me." Melantha was stroking his hair again. "Come. Let's take your mind off things."

"Please." His legs gave out and he fell to his knees. She was still pressing his hand to Ellie's forehead. "Please," he sobbed. "Please leave me alone." She lowered herself before him, cupping his face in her hands. "Please. Please, don't. Please."

His breaths came in uneven gasps and his tears fell harder still. Melantha smiled, leaning closer. "Please. Please. Please. Please. Please," he begged. "Please don't. Please! Please! Please!"