"Albion's new government will require a radical change of thought. In order to create a self-sustaining structure, we must build a system that enforces via its existence the individual rights of all people, regardless of social standing. We must have a system that affords the opportunity for all people to freely exercise their rights, with no barriers to the just application of law. It is a system wherein biased personal beliefs are prevented from influencing individuals through the designated processes of grievance—"

"Are you trying to put me to sleep, dearest? Because, though I can think of far more interesting ways by which we might exhaust ourselves, I must admit that this one is working very well."

I stopped pacing and looked at my husband, who was stretched languidly across a chaise, his long legs hanging over the end. His handsome face was set in an expression of long-suffering indulgence as he watched me. Laughing, I sat on his lap and put my hands on his shoulders.

"Can you think of a more interesting way to explain the purpose of the Department of National Affairs? The Chancellery? Or perhaps the Secretariat?" I asked teasingly. "Can you dazzle me with a summary of the duties of the Ministries of Civil Affairs, Revenue, Military Affairs, Justice, and Public Works?"

"No," he said immediately, rolling his eyes, "I cannot. I think the whole thing is ridiculous, Rose. Why not keep the Monarchy as it is? You've been poring over books on the history of law for weeks. I do not mean to suggest that anything could possibly be beyond your vast capabilities, my dear, but it is rather a longshot to expect a perfect world to materialize in a month. Organizing this new government of yours will take years, and all the while, the people will delay it over and over with their demands and their complaints. By the time it is finished, it may not look anything at all like you envisioned."

"That in no way means that I should not try. The Monarchy of Albion is a thinly-veiled dictatorship, and you know it. I will not condone an unjust government. I will not be a dictator."

"Of course, my idealistic little sweet. You love the world too well for your own good. It is a lucky thing, indeed, that you married me. I detest the world, so it all balances rather nicely."

"You don't hate the world, Adrian. You only want to hate it."

He nuzzled my throat, brushing his lips over my skin. "Mmm. Come to bed with me, my cunning little politician."

Snow fell softly from a sky the color of a mottled robin's egg. I lifted my gaze and saw the faint traces of an aurora borealis shimmering in the air, waves of gentle color that danced slowly in the far distance. I could not feel the cold wind that ruffled my hair or the feathery snow beneath my feet, which were utterly bare below the stark white dress I wore, a dress whiter than the snowfall around me. There was an unnatural serenity here that made me uneasy. I felt a strange kind of hunger that seemed to come from my chest and hands more than from my stomach, and I leaned toward it as though I could somehow catch its scent on the breeze. Something was out there, waiting for me…calling to me without words in this extraordinary dreamworld.

When I moved, snowflakes rose and swirled about my ankles with exaggerated slowness, as though I had cast a Time spell of the sort that had plunged my husband and myself into aching ecstasy and then cast me into the dream from which only Logan's song could wake me. The blanket of snow that covered the earth and settled in my hair sparkled like a sea of muted diamonds, a haze of glamour rising like scintillating mist from its surface as I walked. I knew that this was Mistpeak. I could feel the ancient magic of the Demon Door somewhere nearby and I could not resist its silent bidding.

The scatter of disturbed snow and ice rose as high as my knees as I moved faster. The urgency I felt was growing stronger all the time. Despite this, I could not walk as quickly as I wanted to. The flow of time was so distorted here that I only succeeded in stirring up a cloud of glimmering ice that obscured my vision until I stopped long enough to let it settle once more.

I can't keep stopping, I thought with mounting anxiety. I must hurry.

So I ran. My heels scarcely touched the ground before I was engulfed in a rising storm of glittering white shards so tiny that they melted the instant they touched my skin. I thrust my arms through the cloud of frost, parting it in a shower of cold, fiery sparks as I ran toward the Door. The nearer I came to it, the more I began to believe that I was not alone.

Not her. No, it wasn't the Red Queen. The life force I sensed was not hers. It was something more pure…something soft and beautiful and utterly without stain, like the virgin snow around us.

That was when I heard the wolves.

I was sprinting, now, kicking up so much powdery snow that it swelled into a towering fog in my wake. I had to get to them. There was blood on the wind.

Snarls ripped from raw and furious throats tore through the silence like tissue paper. The cries of a woman echoed through the mountains, piercing me like daggers. When I saw the pack, I stopped dead in my tracks, and for a moment the snow I had disturbed so violently overtook me, blinding me in a dazzle so bright that I had to close my eyes. When I opened them again, my vision was clear.

A pack of black wolves circled a lone woman not far from where I stood, tearing at her flesh and drawing blood and screams from her body. I moved toward her again, but stopped suddenly when a ring of fire erupted from her hands. It was only a small push of Will, but the backdraft sent the wolves flying, yelping in agony as they hit the ground. Another burst of snow rose wherever their bodies came to rest, and when it settled once more, the creatures were dead.

I made my way to the injured woman and stood over her. She was shivering from pain or fear or both, her arms and legs wet with blood. A golden crown sat heavily upon her brow. She was a Queen of Albion, an Archon.

"Let me help you," I tried to say, but the wind seemed to steal my voice. I could only hear a whisper of my own words.

This is a dream, I reminded myself. Make your rules and the world will follow.

Only I was beginning to realize that this was not my dream. It was hers. My inner forearm—the one that had been marked by the dreamwalk—was throbbing.

"Hear me," I called out in desperation. "I can help you if you will allow it! But you must choose to allow it!"

I reached for her, but some force stopped my hand before I could come any closer to her. She stared at me uncomprehendingly. Her wide, brown eyes were glazed with an inner torture I recognized all too well. She believed in the wolves, and so they could harm her. But she did not believe in me, and so I could not touch her. She sat with her legs curled beneath her, bleeding into the snow. A crimson stain spread from her wounds. Her chestnut hair, drawn away from her lovely face in a sort of bun, was dewed with melting flakes of snow that she did not even seem to notice. They streaked her face like tears. Her Will pulsed with her heartbeat. The ground trembled with it, but she did not appear to notice. She was unaware of just how powerful she truly was in this dream. And perhaps outside it, as well.

"Please," I whispered. "Let me help you."

This was not my dream, but I still had my own Will. I let it flow through my body, conjuring the phantom wings that marked me as a fellow Archon. If I could not speak to her with words, perhaps I could show her who I was at the core. Soft feathers danced in the wind. One of them drifted slowly toward her, and she caught it easily. Her brow knitted as she studied it. Her hand closed over it and she held it to her chest, gazing up at me with even more confusion than before. She was squinting now, as though she could scarcely see me. Her lips moved, but I could not hear her voice. Only her screams had reached me, and I wondered now if I had even truly heard them. Perhaps I had actually felt them, the way I had felt my own cry in the Red Rose's world.

Do something, a voice within me pled. Show her the way out.

At once, the answer hit me like a sharp slap. I pointed to myself, then to our right, beckoning her, and to my intense relief, she stood and nodded. Her striped stockings were torn, and the sleeves of her blouse ended in ragged strips. She was still dotting the snow with her blood, but she was strong. When I began to walk, she followed me without faltering.

As I led her, I could not help feeling a sense of warmth about her. There was something about her…something I could not explain, even to myself. I realized that I loved her, that she was as precious to me as a sister. I cherished her as I cherished Logan. There was nothing I would not do to protect her. I thought of my refusal to interfere with the Archons the Red Queen had made me hear. This woman, this Queen, had not been among them, even though she was clearly in grave distress. Why was that? Why had she not cried out with the others?

When we came to stand before the Demon Door, the light of recognition shone in her eyes. She knew this place. It was special to her. She knew that she would be safe if we opened it.

I studied its inscrutable face. In my world, it would only open for an act of passion between two Heroes. I was not afraid to do whatever needed to be done; I could kiss her with no qualms if I had do. But it was impossible. I could not touch her in this dream. To her, I was not real.

I ran my fingers over the Door's bearded cheek. Not passion, I thought.

Love.

I turned to face the wounded Archon, smiling gently. She might not be able to hear me, but I believed that the magic of the Demon Door was stronger than the power of a dream. It transcended reality. It would hear me.

"Let me help," I said again, injecting the words with all the tenderness I felt for her, this woman whose precious soul called to me like a clear chime. "I love you. I always will. Let me be your protection. Let me show you the way home. I will light your way. I give you a piece of myself so that you may call on me in times of trouble. If you dream again of wolves, remember me, and I will be there. I swear this on my soul: I will never abandon you. I will love you for the rest of my days. We are sisters, and nothing can change that. Not time. Not the barrier between worlds. Call for me in your heart, and I will be with you."

And although she still seemed unable to hear my words, I knew that she felt the force behind them. When she looked at me, I knew that she wanted to believe.

The Door opened slowly and silently, exposing the bright light within. I held out my hand. "Come. Come inside and awaken from this nightmare. Free yourself, and never dream of wolves again."

She took my hand, and as we stepped into the light, the dream faded away like a fleeting shadow before it.

The moment I emerged alone into the world of Doors, I knew that I had slipped back into my own head, my own dream. I flexed the hand that had held the wounded Archon's. It was still slightly sticky with her blood, and I closed it, bringing it to my heart and bowing my head. I hoped that she would be all right. I hoped that she would wake to a happier world than the one she inhabited while she slept.

But as I did, a maelstrom of emotion, thoughts, sights, tastes, and memories flooded my mind. Darkness in Samarkand. A prince. A child lost. Ben. Above all things, Ben Finn's face loomed large in her mind, his eyes alight with love. I felt a deep ache in my heart and tightened my fist involuntarily. The intensity of her feelings was absolutely overwhelming. And I was prying where I had no business. I pulled a kerchief from my sleeve and wiped her blood away.

"You did well."

I looked up sharply. Somehow, somewhere, a woman was speaking to me. The voice was warmth incarnate, full of love and respect…and pity.

"She will be even more important to you than you could ever imagine. When next you meet—and you will meet again—she will save your life."

I resisted the urge to call out to the woman; instead I allowed myself to follow her voice, the same way I had followed the screams. I could feel it, though I could not properly explain how. I let myself be drawn to her. It was not the voice of the Red Queen. This person was something else entirely. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, letting go of the wounded Archon's memories and thoughts. No good could come of my keeping them.

"Good, Rose," the voice said. "You can still shut them out, but it won't last forever. Soon you will have to learn to do this every moment of every day—until your death, I expect."

"How do you know?" I asked softly, opening my eyes. I found myself standing before another Demon Door. It stood open, because it was mine. The whirling light shifted and made uncertain shadows. I wanted to step away, but I couldn't. I was rooted to the spot, paralyzed by my need to know and understand. And out of the light of my Door stepped a woman.

She was as fair and luminous as the moon. Despite her obvious youth, her long hair was silver-white, the color of starlight on a clear evening. It spilled over her shoulders from an ivory cowl. Much of her body was encased in silver armor, the like of which I had never seen in Albion. It both protected and accentuated her lithe form, gilded and ornamented with silver roses. A length of white cloth hung between her thighs, rippling in the breeze. It was the battle gear of a leader. A Queen.

Her face was lost in the depths of her hood, but I could still see her smile. "Because," she said, "she saved me, too."

I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. "Are you going to tell me that you're a part of me, too? Like the Red Queen?"

The woman's smile did not falter. "Oh no. No, in fact, I don't really exist just yet. I am no one. But I would be remiss not to tell you that your Red Queen spoke the truth. You have allowed her to become part of you. She wishes to live through you, to take your place. Do you understand? She tried it with someone else, and so I was forced to close off that particular port."

"Rosalie," I whispered tremulously. "The Archon whose world is gone—"

"Not gone," she said. "Merely…inaccessible to outsiders. It was necessary."

I tried to swallow and failed. My throat had gone as dry as the desert sands. The Empress. This is the Empress.

Her smile broadened, then became gentle again. "I hate that nickname, you know. I didn't choose it."

"How did you know…?"

"Oh, you'll find out, Rose. The Red Queen was right about many things, you know. I can travel the planes of Time. I can See whatever I choose to See. And the unfortunate side effect of that little talent is that I can sense the thoughts and feelings of everyone around me unless I am quite careful."

I was growing very dizzy. Her cadence, her way of speaking, reminded me of Reaver. Of Adrian. Suddenly, I wanted to wake up. I wanted to run away from this woman and her machinations, whatever they were, and get back to him before I could be spirited away again. There was something about her that sent needles of ice up my spine. Her presence was at once awe-inspiring and terribly frightening. I knew that to call her an Archon would be like calling a wolf a dog. She was more than that.

"What would you have of me?" I asked as steadily as I could.

She placed a gloved hand on my shoulder. Goosebumps rushed down that arm. "Only this, Rose: that you destroy the Mother Spire before your entire world falls to pieces. There is a way to do it, but you will need three other Heroes, and Garth and Hammer are no longer strong enough to bear it."

"Why do you want me to destroy it?"

"Look at me, Rose. My world is in turmoil. Yours will be, soon. And no," she added with a shake of her head, "I do not have any desire to leave my world for yours. But she does. She has nowhere else to go. Now that she has attached herself to you, she spends more time outside her body than in it. You and I both know that that is no way to live, don't we? I'm counting on you to find a way to set her free. That is why I came back. In my time, I had no guidance, and so I failed. You mustn't."

"You can't change time," I whispered, beginning to understand…beginning to believe.

She turned toward the Door and looked over her shoulder at me. "Can't I?"

I had no answer for her. I stood there among the wildflowers, rubbing at the mark on my arm. It was pulsing almost painfully.

She looked back at the portal. "It will get easier," she said softly. "You will be glad of that mark one day." She cast another smile at me. "Hug the children for me."

"The children?"

"Reed and Ivy. They are waiting for you, right here. They have waited a very long time, indeed."

"What do you mean?" My fingers were cold and numb. "How—?"

"I have Seen them. I know them as well as anyone ever will. They are waiting for you, Rose. Don't delay too long. They won't remain young forever. And Rose?"

I nodded to show that I was listening, watching her steadily. Motes of light danced within the pale shadow of her hood.

"Don't bring your husband when you come for them. If you do, he will never love them. Believe me."

Then she turned away again and walked into the portal. It parted for her, wrapping her body in light until all that was left of her were the bent blades of grass her armored boots had crushed beneath her. And when I blinked, they were as tall and straight as they had ever been. It was as if she had never been here.

The sky and the earth seemed to tilt on their axis. When my body hit the ground—if indeed it did—I was already gone.

I opened my eyes and immediately felt for the mark on my arm. But it was as painless and unobtrusive as a simple tattoo.

Then I suppose I'm awake, I thought, gazing at the pattern in the cool light of dawn that poured in through the bedroom windows. I turned and looked at Reaver. He was fast asleep, his arms wrapped around his pillow as though he thought it might escape him in the night. His black hair was tousled and shining in the early light. Very slowly and carefully, I smoothed it out of his face. He looked almost boyishly peaceful in sleep. I smiled and brushed my lips over his brow.

"A bit lower, I think," he said without opening his eyes. "Thank you."

I laughed, and he grabbed me round the waist and pinned me on my back beneath him. As he looked down at me, he stroked my cheeks with his thumbs. "Do you know, you look as though you haven't slept at all. There is a suggestion of violet puffiness beneath your lovely eyes. Only a suggestion, of course. And one that only I would be likely to notice. But the fact remains—you look as though you haven't slept."

"I've slept," I assured him. "It's…" I faltered there. How could I explain all that I had seen when I myself only half believed it was anything more than a fantasy? I was suddenly terrified that I might be going mad, like my mother before me. She had used the same Time spell, and it had destroyed her. "It's—"

"Dreams?" he finished for me. His eyes bored into mine, inquisitive and insistent.

I nodded. "It is as if in my dreams, I am still awake. I can't rest."

"And what do you do in these dreams?"

"I hear people who exist worlds away. See them. Sometimes meet them."

"And tonight? Who, other than I, was sharing a bed with my wife?"

"Not a bed." I ruffled his hair, earning a snort of laughter from him. "A head, unless I'm going mad. I might be, you know." It was easier to say it to him than to myself. With him, even tragedy held a certain levity.

"You're not, but for loving me," he said with confidant finality "and it will remain your most endearing flaw until you come to your senses. After that I think your mercy will take the top slot on that list, which is a very lucky thing for men like me when their wives realize they've married far, far below themselves."

"I'm the bastard daughter of an orphan with no surname," I reminded him, smiling.

He arched an eyebrow. "And I'm a thief. An uncommonly gifted one, but a thief. You were born a princess. This is what life chose for you. Hell's teeth, how did you run this country for an entire year without another monarch to help even out the workload? I've never been so exhausted by sitting in my life."

I chuckled. "I had a great deal of help from Walter and a good deal more than I wanted from Hobson. I'd love to know more about this list of yours."

"It's very short," he said at once. I laughed and let my head rest on his broad, bare shoulder, and he grinned against my temple. "You see?" he murmured into my hair. His voice was low and languid. "Dreams are nothing more than the mind at play."

I've never felt so bloody helpless in my life.

I blinked, startled. The thought wasn't mine, and as quickly as it had appeared in my mind, it passed away like a shadow. I drew back and stared at my husband, clasping my hands behind my back so as not to touch him. He frowned at me. "What is it?"

"I don't think you want to know," I sighed, drawing a hand over my eyes.

"Neither do I," he said, "but tell me all the same."

I tried to smile and failed. "I heard you a moment ago. You feel more helpless than you ever have in your life. And I am so sorry for that."

His mouth tightened. "Yes, well, life is full of consequences. They simply tend to enormity whenever you are involved, sweetling." He looked earnestly into my eyes, all traces of mirth gone. "What can I do, Rose? You must tell me—I'm half mad with worry, if you want the truth. Seeing you like this reminds me of our time in the well, in Oakvale."

I nodded slowly, remembering. When I had shed my blood for Theresa, I had, for a time, become something new, something frightening. The Light had raged through my veins in raw torrents, annihilating the Shadow Judges and every dark creature that stood between the Dark Seer and myself. And I had felt nothing. Nothing but a sense of purpose.

"Stay with me," I said softly. "I need you more than I have ever needed anything."

One corner of his mouth rose in a half-smile, and he raked his hair away from his face. "You needn't be concerned on that account, ma chérie. I wouldn't know what to do with myself. I love you, and it has ruined my wanderlust."

"It seems to have ruined quite a few of your old lusts," I chuckled.

He pulled me into his lap and bit playfully at my ear. "Perhaps. But not all of them."

We spent a tender hour together, and his thoughts came to me in fragments. They burned like the very heart of fire, consuming his fears and doubts in a conflagration that left both of us breathless and shining when his release came.

While he dressed for the day's tasks at Court, I wandered to the window beside my writing desk. The morning sun felt good on my skin, and I felt the last cobwebs of the disturbing dreams fall away before it. It was going to be a beautiful day, and there was much to do. I glanced down at the massive tomes stacked on my desk and picked up the papers that held my notes. Along with writs of ancient kings and the many philosophies of law were tiny shapes I had drawn absently in the corners. I felt my heart flutter as I examined them. The pattern was the same, running all the way around the page:

EV

EV

EV

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks a billion times to my dear friend Angelacm for helping me break through a major lack of self-confidence! I'd also like to thank Walkman355, Nami Swann, Beatrixii, Derkna, Armywife07, and everyone else who is reading this, now. Thank you so, so much!