Chapter 2 Just A Dream

The first thing I noticed was the pain in my neck.

The second was the sound of a bus honking outside my window.

I opened my eyes.

My ceiling.

The ugly water stain shaped like a rabbit.

The faded curtains I'd been meaning to replace since last Christmas.

For several seconds, I didn't move. I simply stared upward, afraid that if I blinked, the gold vines and unfamiliar faces would return.

Then I sat up so quickly that the room spun.

My room.

My actual room.

I looked down at myself. An oversized T-shirt. Old shorts. Bare feet tangled in my bedsheet.

No silk nightgown. No red wedding dress. No strange body staring back at me from a mirror.

I touched my face.

My nose. My cheeks. My lips.

Me.

A laugh escaped me, followed by something dangerously close to a sob.

It was a dream.

Of course it was a dream.

I'd spent too many nights reading werewolf romances and falling asleep with my phone in my hand. My brain had probably decided to punish me for it by inventing the most terrifying story imaginable.

A forced marriage. An execution. A man who looked at me as if my existence offended him.

And that voice.

My smile faded.

Marrow.

I pulled the blanket up to my chin.

Even in the safety of my own room, the name made the back of my neck prickle.

I'd heard that voice so clearly. It hadn't sounded like something my mind had invented. It had sounded like someone standing beside me, speaking directly into my ear.

But there was nobody here.

I checked beneath the bed anyway.

Nothing but dust and a missing slipper.

I laughed at myself.

Then I checked the wardrobe.

Still nothing.

Congratulations, Sofi. You've officially lost your mind.

I stopped.

Sofi.

That was my name. The name I had answered to for years. The name my mother called when she wanted to know why I hadn't picked up her calls.

My mother.

I grabbed my phone from the bedside table.

The screen lit up, and for one awful moment, I forgot how to breathe.

Mum had called last night.

Three times.

There was a message beneath the missed calls.

You said you'd call me back, sweetheart. Are you okay?

I pressed the phone against my chest.

In the dream, I'd remembered a wet road, headlights, and my mother's name glowing on a screen.

I'd remembered not answering.

But I was here.

My phone was here.

My mother was alive, somewhere in the same world as me, probably sitting in her house wondering why her daughter couldn't spare five minutes to call her.

I dialled her number.

She answered on the fourth ring.

"At last! I was about to call the police."

I laughed, but the sound broke halfway through.

"Mum."

"What's wrong with your voice?"

"Nothing."

"Don't tell me nothing. Have you been crying?"

I pressed my fingers against my eyes.

"I just wanted to hear your voice."

Silence.

Then a softer voice.

"My child, what happened?"

I wanted to tell her.

I wanted to explain that I'd spent the night in another world, that I'd woken up inside the body of a woman who was supposed to die in thirty days. I wanted to tell her about the Duke, the wedding, the voice in my head.

Instead, I swallowed everything.

"I had a bad dream."

"About what?"

I stared at the ceiling.

"Something stupid."

"Then tell me the stupid thing. Maybe we'll laugh about it together."

That nearly undid me.

My mother had always been like that. She could make room for my smallest embarrassment and my biggest disappointment without making either feel ridiculous.

I wished I could do the same for myself.

"I'll tell you later," I said. "I promise."

"You'd better. And eat something today. You can't keep surviving on biscuits and stubbornness."

I laughed properly this time.

We spoke for another few minutes. She told me about a neighbour's argument, asked whether I had sent the documents I'd promised to send, and reminded me that Sunday was approaching.

Ordinary things.

Beautiful, ordinary things.

When the call ended, I sat on the bed and listened to the quiet.

I was home.

Whatever had happened, it was over.

I repeated that thought while I showered, dressed, and made tea. I repeated it while I opened my laptop and tried to read the email I'd left unfinished the previous night.

I was home.

I was safe.

I was not going to be executed by a kingdom of werewolves.

By ten in the morning, I almost believed myself.

Then my phone buzzed.

A message from Daniel.

Are we still meeting today?

I stared at his name longer than necessary.

Daniel had been my almost-something for nearly eight months.

Almost a boyfriend. Almost a date. Almost the person I could call when something good happened and I needed someone to tell.

He was the kind of man who remembered how I took my coffee but somehow forgot every conversation that threatened to become serious.

And I liked him anyway.

Embarrassingly much.

I typed a reply.

Yes. Of course.

His response came almost immediately.

Good. Same place. Two o'clock.

I smiled at the screen.

It was ridiculous how quickly a person could make a day feel better without doing anything particularly special.

I had spent the night facing an execution that wasn't real. I'd woken up terrified of a voice that couldn't exist.

Now I had a meeting with Daniel, and I was already thinking about what to wear.

For the first time that morning, the world felt normal.

At one forty-five, I stood in front of my mirror, trying to decide whether the blue blouse made me look too eager.

I changed into it anyway.

Then I picked up my phone.

The screen was black.

For a moment, I saw my reflection in it.

Then the reflection moved.

Not much.

Just the slightest tilt of the head, as if the woman staring back at me had noticed something behind my shoulder.

I spun around.

My bedroom was empty.

I looked back at the phone.

My reflection stared at me, perfectly still.

I stood there for a long time, waiting for my heart to slow down.

Then I shook my head.

You need sleep. That's all.

I put the phone in my bag and left.

The café was crowded when I arrived. Daniel was already at our usual table, scrolling through his phone with a cup of coffee beside him.

He looked up and smiled.

"There she is."

Something inside me loosened.

I sat opposite him.

"You make it sound like I've been missing for months."

"You disappear sometimes."

He said it lightly, still looking at his phone.

But the words landed somewhere uncomfortable.

I ordered my usual drink and tried to shake off the feeling.

For the first twenty minutes, we talked about ordinary things. His work. My unfinished projects. A film he'd watched and insisted I should see.

I listened, laughed when I was supposed to, and tried not to notice how often he checked his phone.

Eventually, he put it facedown.

"You seem tired."

"I didn't sleep well."

"Again?"

I frowned.

"What do you mean, again?"

He hesitated.

"Nothing. You just haven't seemed yourself lately."

I looked at him, waiting for him to explain.

He rubbed the back of his neck.

"You've been saying some strange things, Sofi."

The café suddenly seemed louder.

"Like what?"

"Last week, you called me at midnight asking whether I thought people could live two different lives."

I remembered that conversation. I'd been half asleep, reading a story about a woman who woke up in another body.

"I was joking."

"And yesterday, you sent me a message asking whether I'd believe you if you told me something impossible."

I looked down at my hands.

I had sent that message.

I'd deleted it a few minutes later, embarrassed by how dramatic it sounded.

"I was having a bad week."

"I'm not judging you."

He reached across the table, then seemed to think better of it.

"I'm just worried about you."

I hated how much that hurt.

Not because he was being cruel. He wasn't.

He was looking at me with genuine concern, and I could already see the distance forming behind his eyes.

The distance people put between themselves and something they couldn't understand.

"I'm fine, Daniel."

He nodded, but he didn't look convinced.

I wanted to tell him about the dream.

I wanted to tell him about Jacob and the execution and the voice that had called me little stranger. I wanted to hear someone laugh and tell me it was impossible, because then I could laugh too.

Instead, I stirred my drink until the ice knocked against the glass.

"I just need some rest."

"Then get some."

He smiled faintly.

"Promise me you'll talk to someone if things get worse?"

I forced a smile.

"Promise."

We finished our drinks and talked about safer things.

When we said goodbye, he hugged me.

It was a brief, familiar hug. The kind that used to make me imagine things neither of us had ever promised.

I held on for one second longer than he did.

Then he stepped away.

"Text me when you get home."

"I will."

I watched him leave.

For a moment, I wanted to call him back and tell him everything.

But what would I say?

That I had been married in a world that wasn't real?

That I had made a deal with a man I'd never met?

That a voice in my head had promised to help me survive a wedding?

He would think I was losing my mind.

Maybe I was.

I walked home alone.

By the time I reached my apartment, the afternoon light had begun to fade. I dropped my bag beside the door, kicked off my shoes, and went straight to bed.

I was exhausted.

I wanted one night of ordinary sleep. No strange kingdoms. No execution platforms. No voices.

Just my ceiling, my bedsheets, and the sound of traffic outside.

I closed my eyes.

Sleep came quickly.

And then I heard a bell.

One clear note.

I opened my eyes.

Gold vines covered the ceiling.

For a moment, I couldn't move.

The room was too large. The curtains were too heavy. The air smelled faintly of roses and candle wax.

I sat up.

The red wedding gown hung beside the window.

My stomach dropped.

No.

I scrambled out of bed and ran to the mirror.

The woman staring back at me had dark, wavy hair and cold eyes.

Zabeth.

I was Zabeth again.

My breath came in short, painful bursts.

It was a dream, I whispered. I woke up. I went home. I spoke to my mother. I saw Daniel.

My reflection stared back.

I'm not supposed to be here.

A sound came from the corridor.

Footsteps.

Then a voice.

"My lady? The Duke is waiting."

I stumbled away from the mirror.

The door opened.

The maid stood there, her face pale.

"My lady, we must hurry. The wedding begins in an hour."

An hour.

The wedding.

I had already lived through this morning.

I had already spoken to Jacob.

I had already heard Marrow's voice.

Unless none of it had happened.

Unless the first world was the dream.

My knees weakened.

"What day is it?"

The maid blinked.

"My lady?"

"Tell me what day it is."

She stared at me as if I had finally gone mad.

"Your wedding day, my lady."

I gripped the edge of the dressing table.

I had to think. I had to remember exactly what I'd done before waking up in my room.

Jacob had left. Vamin had spoken outside the door. My stepmother had come to collect me.

And Marrow had told me to survive the wedding.

I looked at the maid.

"Did the Duke come here earlier?"

"Yes, my lady."

"What did I say to him?"

Her face grew even more frightened.

"You asked him to make a deal."

The room tilted.

It had happened.

Every word.

Every choice.

I hadn't dreamed it.

I'd lived it.

And somehow, I'd lived another life afterward.

"Please," I whispered. "I need you to tell me something."

The maid took a hesitant step forward.

"Anything, my lady."

I swallowed.

"If I fall asleep again, will I wake up somewhere else?"

She stared at me.

Then, slowly, she crossed herself.

"May the Moon Goddess protect us."

A cold sensation crept down my spine.

I turned toward the mirror.

For the briefest moment, my reflection looked different.

Not like me.

Not like Zabeth.

Something darker stood behind my eyes.

Then it was gone.

A familiar voice brushed the inside of my mind.

There you are, little stranger.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Marrow.

You sound disappointed.

What is happening to me?

A pause.

Then that soft, patient amusement.

You are beginning to wake up.

I opened my eyes.

In which world?

His answer came almost tenderly.

That, little stranger, is the question you should be afraid to ask.

Outside, the wedding bells began to ring.

And somewhere far away, in a world I had believed was mine, my phone was ringing too.