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

in Angel’s corner of the Nature Artist studio, which was in a swirl of preparation for the approaching spring. In one corner, Nature Artists prepared tunes for the birds to sing, while in another they bustled about gathering swaths of additional daylight.

In Angel’s section she’d propped a canvas splashed with various sunset designs against her teetering easel, while nearby she worked on a half-finished cloud sculpture she was carving for the Mortals, which at the moment failed to resemble a shape any normal Mortal would be able to decipher in a sky full of cumulus clouds. Angel chipped away at it with a strange aggression, which only increased as she listened to my account of my encounter with Blaze and Trinity, as if each bit of cloud she chiseled away was an attack on her weaving partner.

I sat cross-legged on a box stuffed to the brim with sketches of cloud sculpture designs and carving tools, surrounded by weaving books stacked in miniature leaning towers and shrouds of messily tailored cloth, my failed attempts to duplicate the stitches the books tried in vain to teach.

“Two Nightmares were in the Dream Library,” I explained for the second time. “They claimed they were there for a book to aid their nightmares.”

Iris shook her head from where she sat squished between jars of gold and ruby paint. “But Nightmares rarely come into our realm, and we don’t go into theirs.”

“Is it forbidden?”

“No,” she said slowly. “Other than in and around the Academy, there’s just no reason for it.”

Angel gnawed her lip. “Are you certain one of them was Blaze?” Her hands tightened over her tools as I nodded. “That nightmare. Creating a dream-like nightmare to beat my masterpieces. I’ll show him. I’ll plan a dream so intense that even if he used all the nightmare flowers in the Universe…”

She pounded her chisel so furiously she knocked away a huge chunk of cloud, but she didn’t seem to notice or care as she whacked her statue with a string of steady curses under her breath.

Before today I'd always considered Angel a bit overdramatic whenever she griped about her weaving partner, but now it was different. Darius had never made me feel quite like Blaze had—as if he himself was a walking bad dream.

Iris frowned. “I’m surprised he was in the Dream Realm to study. I thought you won most of your Weavings because Blaze spent more time with his Pair than he did preparing.”

Angel finally abandoned her cloud statue—which now sadly resembled nothing more than a lumpy, indiscernible shape—and turned to scowl at the sunset she was painting on her easel. She tugged out the paintbrush stored in her magenta bun.

“I used to always win, but lately Blaze seems to be winning an uncanny amount. He must be cheating, and your finding him in the Dream Library proves it.”

I immediately thought of Darius’s undefeated streak. Perhaps my constant losing hadn’t been entirely my fault. “How could Weavers cheat?” Guilt seeped over me the moment I asked. There was still much about Darius I didn’t know, but one thing was certain: he was no cheater.

Angel glanced around to be sure no one was listening before leaning forward. “There are certain rumors going around about an illegal market,” she said in a hushed whisper. “It’s a place where forbidden plants not cultivated in the fields are exchanged for dream dust.”

“That’s merely gossip,” Iris said. “Growing a flower that forces a win is impossible. What sensory detail could possibly be that strong?”

“There are rumors that it’s not a sensory detail at all but an emotion, which is why such a flower would be forbidden, and Blaze is sinister enough to find a way to get hold of it.”

Iris raised a skeptical brow. “Then wouldn’t he have used it to win Weavings before now?”

“Who’s to say he hasn’t?” Angel demanded. “The Investigations Team’s latest theory on how the mysterious thefts are occurring is that certain plants from the illegal market could be stealing the magic from the Weaver’s partner. If Blaze has such a powerful plant at his disposal, it wouldn’t matter whether or not he won the Weaving, so long as he receives the dream’s magic in the end.”

Chills prickled my skin at the mention of the dream dust thefts. “Has more of your dream dust been stolen?”

Angel splattered her paint as she spun on me. “Yes. This is the third time this week, always shortly after my Weaving, and yet the Council still won’t suspend Blaze.”

“But Angel,” Iris began gently. “We don’t know Blaze is the one who’s been stealing your—”

“Some Nightmare did,” Angel said. “Dream lockets are enchanted to protect our magic; only dark magic can steal dust from them, and he’s the only Nightmare I have the misfortune to interact with. Who else could it possibly be? Yet you’re still determined to think the best of him, even though he doesn’t deserve it.”

The two sisters began bickering, but it was lost to my swirling thoughts as my apprehension over the increased dream dust thefts lingered. The thefts had been increasing with each passing week; my indignation that someone would steal from Dreamers grew with every mention, especially as I saw the heartache they brought Angel in particular.

Surely there had to be something that could be done…but what?

I tried to consider the puzzle as I picked up the needle and cloth I’d been using to practice the star stitch and glowered at Weaving Unbeatable Dreams, but my swirling thoughts made it impossible to concentrate, even though I desperately needed to. I’d run out of time for the practice I’d intended to get in before my next Weaving; I’d spent far too many more hours in the library searching for information not only about my powers but about my elusive mother.

But no matter how much I searched, the information I discovered was too vague to even form potential theories; it was as if the information had disappeared along with Mother. How was I ever to learn more