5: Dreams of the Dead

Ela stared openly at Theodosia, her face somewhere between puzzled and fascinated. Her features were not like Zehra's, her mannerisms markedly different and she had none of the physical strength Zehra had been known for in her healthier days.

And yet.

Father Korsakov, you do not know what you are asking of me.

Or worse: He knew exactly what he was asking and asked anyway.

As if it made a difference. Theodosia Kartal had been in Ela's care from the moment Ela had laid eyes on her that afternoon. How could she not be?

A mysterious illness? Almost miraculous healing...a puzzle.

A pretty puzzle.

She ran her thumb across the seal of the letter she held. Open, it was, but she had carefully refolded it so no one else would see the contents. Physician-patient responsibility was something Ela took incredibly seriously. If she could have her own secrets, why could they not have theirs? Ask the guests she had in the morgue...well, she could ask them. It was rare she needed to, but...

The words had been out of her mouth before she could stop them - a very unElalike thing to happen. But she hadn't been wrong. Theodosia could steal heats - was it even thievery if they were given willingly? Zeynep and Cassandra were clearly taken with her, as was everyone else in the room - she was a delight. Her earnest nature was infectious - 

One of the reasons among hundreds it was crucial she live a long and healthy life.

If the viziers were working with unseelie, and 

if the sultan knew about it, and

if there was rebellion to be had,

an earnest voice and a pretty face could do a lot to encourage people to look the other way, or soften in their treatment.

For all her naïveté, the Lady Kartal caught on quickly. For all her honourable bearing, the Lady Oikoloygos was connected to more unseemly people than Ela would have expected.

And then there was Cassandra. It could not be a coincidence that a beautiful, glittering fae princess appeared half in the mortal realm, followed by an unseelie pretender. 

Where was the real vizier if this one was fae?

The thought crashed in. Where was he? 

It was all well and good to have a pretender, but the man he impersonated should not even have been in the country. 

Where was he?

And the question remained unanswered...what or who had told them Adnan and the rest were there?

Her mind folded in and over itself.

The scroll...Ela had entirely forgotten the scroll and the wards upstairs. The ones in this room were not placed by Nehir. Were those? Wards to keep things in the room? Keep what in the room? She could not ask before, but she could now that it was clear she would be tied to these people...they knew she used sorcery.

And what were the wards on this room actually doing? They were protected and hidden, and the room was safe...

Made me feel safe.

She'd almost burst into tears when the feeling washed over her. She hadn't felt so safe in...well, in three years.

Has it been so long? Already.

So much work to do in less than one lifetime. Her primary focus, though, as a physician and an engineer, was to work on and with her patient. Patience.

I won't lose this one.

Not beyond hope, Father Korsakov had said. Ela agreed in that estimation, but Theodosia either did not know or did not believe it.

Her mind flicked through several books. 

A gift, then.

***

I don't often sleep. Not since...not since I woke up after... And when I do...

when I do, if I do, it is with the aid of drugs that leave me as unmoving and unthinking as my guests.

Do the dead dream? Or do they rest easy, knowing their task is done? 

I have not asked you, and I don't think I could.

I can't tell you that I dream of you and every single time it is a nightmare. Every single time you are healthy and whole, and love me, and we live. That is all. We have breakfast, or take a walk in the sunshine, or watch a show, or read in each other's company. In this nightmare I don't lose you. And it is ongoing. It is ongoing, Zehra. Every night I spend dreaming is a day I get to spend with you - you are older in my dreams. Life did not end for you in my dreams. 

I used to think this was a blessing. That you were visiting me and I would get to pass my days in quiet contemplation of the way your curls loosened as your hair grew, or the way you slap my hand to stop me taking your piece of chocolate. In those days I would take sleeping draughts to maximise the time I would be in your company, even knowing it was a dream. 

But... sevgili...I know which world is reality, and it is not that one. 

Waking alone is still hard, but it is easier knowing why I work. 

And there is a deeper fear...

Every day in that world we grow older at a slightly faster pace, just a little, of this world. Sleep too much and - 

and I will lose you again. And what nightmares follow that, mh?

So I choose when to sleep and when to dream. 

Tonight I do not wish to disturb you in the real world.

I will visit in the other. 

In the world where I can hold you, and you can hold me. 

One whole day. 

Perhaps I can show you around the university.

We have not done that.