Dreamer (The Dream World Chronicles Book 1) Camille Peters (books to improve english txt) 📖

gaze on me. I looked up to find he’d scooted his book even closer. He caught my gaze and nodded towards it, his eyes wide with invitation to steal a peek.

I frowned. “Why are you pretending to help me? I’ve been in the Dream World long enough to understand that Nightmares and Dreamers are never friends.”

“Most aren’t,” he agreed. “But that doesn’t mean there can’t be an exception.” He gave me a rather endearing sideways grin.

I frowned. Just what game was he playing? Why was he so determined to earn my trust? And if he wanted it so desperately, why was his treatment towards me constantly changing? One moment he was rude and condescending, the next he claimed he wanted to be friends, as if he were battling two parts of himself in every one of our interactions. It didn’t help that I wanted to accept his friendship, even though doing so would undoubtedly be foolish, especially with my situation with the Council so precarious.

But that didn’t change the fact that my determination to ignore him hadn’t helped my circumstances; I was no closer to winning Weavings than when we’d started. Could I risk heeding his advice? I fiddled with my stitches as I deliberated. Darius waited a few moments more before interrupting me again.

“Hmm, the book doesn’t appear to be working. Perhaps I need a new approach.” He picked up his completed dream and pulled out another detail from his bag to add to it. I tried to ignore him, but my curiosity compelled me to watch.

He lit up the moment he captured my attention. “I think my nightmare could use another detail. Let’s see, which one should I add…hmm, perhaps I should select a detail that will not only enhance the dream, but whose flower is similar to the one it’s being connected to, either in color or shape. Matching the flowers as closely as possible will add another layer of strength to the stitches and allow them to enhance one another, thus making them more effective in my dream.”

He motioned towards the quilt in my lap with his eyes. I looked down at my unfinished dream, whose own details were arranged randomly. From my overload of information during my three weeks of cramming, I faintly recollected reading about the advantage that came from pairing similar details together, words which coincided with Darius’s own advice.

Which meant that in this instance, he was sincere in his assistance. I sent him a questioning look, but he’d already set aside his needle and returned to his book, as if he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary.

I nibbled my lip, silently debating, before I sighed in acquiescence. It wouldn’t hurt to accept his advice. What more did I have to lose than I already had?

The remainder of my dream slowly came together piece by piece. It was inspired by the flying horse dream I’d stumbled into as a child and was the first I’d built from scratch rather than using pre-grown details, hoping the extra attention to detail would enhance the dream and make me more likely to win. I’d spent hours finding an assortment of colors and pairing them in unique combinations to create a complete fantasy environment, and the details had come together to form an impressive masterpiece.

I finished stitching the color green detail to the detail of the sky to add a bit of whimsy to the dream and trimmed my thread. “Finished.”

“Finally.” Darius snapped his book shut. “That only took forever.”

“Stop complaining, you could have given your nightmare anytime.” Although I was immensely relieved he hadn’t.

“There’s no thrill in winning unless there’s a dream to beat.” It provided a reason for his help, and although I was relieved for an explanation, I was still left disappointed by it. I scolded myself for my ridiculous feelings.

Our dreams seeped into Maci as we draped them over her. Darius pulled out his weaving mirror while I watched both dreams form halos of light above our Mortal, Darius’s his usual green, mine a swirl of bright tangerine. I shouldn’t be tempted to enter my dream—Darius was only getting more and more suspicious each time he caught me doing so—but this was a recreation of the first dream I’d ever viewed, and I was eager to see how my skills matched the dream I’d seen all those years ago.

Darius propped his mirror on his knee and eyed me warily when I didn’t do the same. “Don’t you want to watch your dream?”

That made my decision. I reluctantly pulled out my own mirror to watch, fervently hoping that this time my dream would be strong enough to give my mortal a pleasant night of sleep, but it wasn’t at all like the one I’d seen all those years ago. I’d tried to make the clouds multiple hues, but they were colorless, their colors instead splashed in random places on the sky. All the other details were rough and choppy. Halfway through I shoved my mirror away, unable to watch anymore. Darius frowned but didn’t comment.

It didn’t take long before Darius’s nightmare ended and dream dust seeped into his already bulging spiderweb-shaped locket. He clicked it shut. “I win again.” But despite having succeeded in obtaining yet another victory, he didn’t look at all happy about it.

I shoved my weaving supplies back into my bag so I could leave as soon as Stardust returned. “I know you’ve won. Big surprise. So much for your assistance.”

He frowned. “It appears this might take some time.” The look he gave me could almost pass for pity. “I know you’re disregarding it on principle, but you might not lose every night if you actually heeded the advice I shared during our first competition.”

I fingered my dream locket, which was becoming lighter with each Weaving—although I always somehow managed to maintain just enough magic. Still, if I didn’t beat Darius soon, I’d have to rely solely on my own minimal powers, which wouldn’t be near enough to create a