Dream Date

 Chatoya Irkil gave a grateful sigh as her head hit the pillow. It had been a trying day. She had spent her morning poring over Pursang's histories, reading through tale after tale of strange encounters and politicking. The afternoon had been taken up by Vaje and Lance, wrangling concessions on contracts and discussing how they could prepare for Kheoussan Rastaban's return.

 All she wanted was a night of deep and dreamless sleep.

 It wasn't what she got.

~*~

 She knew Kheo Rastaban's court almost as well as her own bedroom's these days, and even overlaid by the soft edges of dream haziness, it was an imposing place. Two long lines of pillars supported the white roof, made from a single massive piece of marble that she herself had made. Earth was hers to call, after all, and it was little effort to shape it to a design, even though it was frivolous.

 There were no walls, nor anything but good earth beneath her feet. Kheo had combined flamboyance with simplicity, and while it made for unusual homes, it had also made for successful schemes.

She wasn't surprised she was here. Thoughts of Kheo had clogged her mind before she drifted off, as they did more often than not these days.

 The throne sat at the far end, made from the same white marble, the sun blasting behind it. Anyone who approached him had to stare into fire, he nothing but a regal silhouette. It made it hard for any supplicant to read his face and more than had misjudged his response.

 There was no sun now, though, only the pallid light of the moon. Under the indigo sky, the court looked like the bones of some hulking creature, long dead and saddening.

 And it wasn't Kheo who sat on the throne.

 Blue Malefici slumped on the throne, his hands linked loosely about one knee. The moonlight gave a pearly sheen to his skin but never touched the vivid blue wells of his eyes. That lush mouth was curved in a feline smile but she would bet it didn't touch his eyes.

 "I hope you're not expecting me to curtsy," she said dryly.

 "I have long accepted that you're a stranger to courtesy," he replied, and through the soulmate link that was a dim collection of emotions and thoughts, she caught his amusement. Despite the barb, there was less sharpness to the words than usual. "If not to this court. Does Kheo often haunt you, witch of mine?"

 Not as often as you, she thought, but had more sense than to admit that.

 "Sometimes. Is there a reason why you're here?"

 His smile took on a wicked slant. "Several. None of them remotely suitable for civilised conversation."

 That provoked memories of other dreams, of hands and heat and the careless weight of his body. As he had undoubtedly intended. Chatoya couldn't stop the blush that crept up her face, and she was glad of the moonlight, silvering her embarrassment.

 "I couldn't help but recall a certain wager we made last week," he murmured, tilting his head back against the back of the throne, which ended a couple of feet above his head. Kheo had demanded his throne be imposing, but Blue was spoiling the effect by lounging on it as if it were a featherbed. "Regarding Pursang's latest initiates."

 "Which you lost," she pointed out, a trifle smugly. "But it wasn't exactly a wager, was it? You didn't stake anything."

 If more than half those children return from Hades, unscathed or otherwise, I'll make you a necklace of the stars, he'd declared in a bored voice.

 "I was under the impression I promised to make a gift of heaven for you," he drawled, as if he could actually pluck the constellations from the sky and thread them onto a silver chain to shine about her neck.

 She blinked. "I know you keep your promises, but isn't that stretching it a bit?"

 The blue of his eyes deepened to inky pools, half-shut and knowing. "My witch, I know exactly what I can stretch and how far I can stretch it." The low, wicked words told her that he knew just how far she could stretch too. Damn him.

 The truth, she thought sourly. You're an expert at stretching that.

 "Well?" He stood, arching his eyebrows in a mocking request. "I promise you, Chatoya, heaven isn't overrated."

 She had to admit it. She was mystified, and she was desperately intrigued. It could be some sort of trap, but...but what was the point of it?

 He held out a hand, as imperious as an emperor.

 Curiosity got the better of her every time. She took it, and was startled when he drew her hand to his lips, and she felt warm pressure on the back of her hand, on each knuckles, on the tips of her fingers. Pure, drowning desire in his eyes, mingled with something she couldn't comprehend, and he had stolen the breath clean from her throat.

 A gift of heaven? For a dizzy moment, she wondered if he really would forge a choker of stars for her, emptying the sky for no better reason than love.

~*~

 The world whirled around them and she shut her eyes against the nauseating sights. When she opened them again, she couldn't stop her astonished gasp. She didn't know what she had expected - something magnificent and impressive, something meant to intimidate her and demonstrate his superiority.

 Not a little beachfront restaurant, its tables covered in chequered cloths and a small swing band playing old Rat Pack songs. Beneath the patio, the sands were a thin band, streaked with the gold and orange of the setting sun, time turned back with hardly a thought. The ocean swelled beyond the beach, a lake of tamed fire, crowned by the vast sinking sun that set the waters glittering with a thousand bright pinpoints.

 "Where...is this?" she asked, wondering if it was some elaborate snare.

 Blue picked up a menu and scanned it. "A little place I know, somewhere between here and there."

 A waiter bustled up, his eyes twinkling as he took them in. She knew it was only a shaping of dreams, but every detail was solid, and she wondered how often he had been to this place to know it so comprehensively.

 "And this is heaven?" she said sceptically, as the waiter pulled a chair from a table and gestured for her to sit. She did so, half-smiling as he laid the paper napkin on her lap.

 Opposite her, Blue's eyes flickered with something she couldn't identify. "Haven't you learnt what heaven is yet?"

 And then he laid his hand over hers, and she stared as if he'd sprouted another hand. Such tantalising, tender gestures were not normal, not even close, and there was nothing malign in his voice or his face. He looked relaxed, the wind flicking the ends of his hair back and forth, his fingers tapping on her wrist in time with the music.

 "What's going on?" she said suspiciously, debating whether to move her hand. But...if she withdrew, he might take it as an insult and this casual intimacy would be gone. "Have you been taking drugs?"

 "As if. I'm keeping my end of a bargain, witch of mine." His face was thoughtful, and it struck her that he was letting her see his emotions. It was all unnerving, horribly unnerving. "You won't find much else but hell in the months to come. Hael-"

 He cut off, as though the words had skidded unwanted past his lips.

 "Hael...what?" she asked, staring hard at him.

 "He and I have made a pact," he said shortly. "He demanded...well, suffice to say that his terms were surprising."

 She did take back her hand then, surprised that she actually felt hurt. She should know better by now. "Hael told you to do this, didn't he?"

 Blue shook his head, a small gesture, but a decisive one. "Witch of mine, Hael asked only one thing of me: honesty. Honesty in all aspects, and it struck me that no matter how we wound one another, you and I, no matter what words we throw, even when there is hate instead of love...still I'm drawn to you, again and again. Perhaps I thought that if you can have nothing else, you should have the dream of love to remember."

~*~

 There was food and conversation and glass after glass of wine and to her bemusement, Chatoya found herself enjoying Blue's company - indeed, wondering if this was not Hael wearing another face. It was possible, certainly. It was the sort of gesture Hael would have made, hating to see hurt when one trivial deed could erase it.

 He was sharp and sardonic, and the conversation drifted from politics to travelling to the news and inevitably, to old friends and old selves. Yet his usual malice was absent, though from the gleam in his eyes every so often, that was by choice rather than by nature. She began to feel light-headed by the time they had finished the meal, simple seafood dishes that tasted fresh and hot.

 Is this heaven to you? she wanted to ask. What makes it so? Is this all you truly want from life? No, I think not. So it can't be that.

 It was nothing special, this place - no one would ever queue to eat here, no one would think it any different from a thousand other restaurants scattered along sandy shores. Yet...

 And yet, somehow, he was right. She had enjoyed herself this evening, she had caught the faintest glimpse of someone who might be her soulmate in more than name. And with it, had come a slow sense of premonition: this would not happen again.

 The dream of love, he had said, to remember. A dream, to dissipate in the morning light, to be worn like jewellery, to be taken out and admired occasionally, and then put away in darkness.

 "It's nearly morning," she murmured. A thin blue glow had begun at the base of the sky, and she knew that it would become the breathtaking boundless azure of his eyes.

 "Nearly," he said mildly. "But there's still time."

 "For what?" She leaned on the railing, breathing in the salted sea breeze. Yes, she thought she began to understand the appeal of this place, with its simple pleasures and simple setting.

 He reached out, and she frowned-

 And as if he'd bent the world around his will, he scooped the stars right out of the sky, a clatter of glowing shards in his palm, strung together like beads. He held it up, and she closed her mouth with a snap.

 The dream of love, she thought. What kind of dream wouldn't let you snatch the stars clean from the sky?

 And she let him sweep back her hair and fasten it around her neck, glowing with a pure clear light.

 "Hmm. You wear it well." So rich, his voice, and full of the same sinful secrets that danced in his eyes.

 "Heaven on a string," she said dryly, unsure if the gesture cheapened the illusion, or not. It was all a mirage of a perfect life, a life she would never have and that he did not want.

 He gave a one-shouldered shrug. "What's heaven but a thousand perfect moments strung together?"

She didn't look towards the dawn, she didn't watch the ending of this brief lull in the mix of hatred and love he brought. Once again, she was indebted to Hael, who had read the psalms of her heart and sung them back to her.

 The dream of love. Only a dream, but for now...it would do.