my faith in her intentions would never be restored.
“I gave you a god, Andronicus. One who is your equal in every way. The things you two could accomplish…” She shook her head with a grieved expression. Forever the martyr. “That’s the only thing getting me through this trying time. That, and this place.” She gestured with her hands to the lush valley surrounding us, her own creation.
“You want to make him a monster,” I accused in a low, rasping voice. That was the evolution of our training—build our trust, grow our powers, and then use us as weapons in her quest to regain her throne.
A few of her snakes attempted to strike me at that insult.
“We are not monsters, we are gods. And if you cherish that dancer’s soul as much as you claim, then maybe loving him as a bloodborn will convince you to love yourself.”
I didn’t believe Lena had altruistic reasons for anything she did, but she had a way of justifying her actions that weakened my resolve to oppose her. And regardless of how things came to pass, you were a gift.
You called for her over your shoulder, both hands laden with bunches of grapes. Lena smiled softly, and two wicker baskets appeared at your ankles so that you might unburden yourself.
“Isn’t it just as you remember?” she asked.
“Indeed,” I admitted. The dream realm had a way of making my mind drift, or maybe it was our conversation that befuddled me. Why had I sought her company in the first place?
“The tiger.” I glared at her, recalling my own rage and terror. “He could have been mortally wounded. How could you put him in such danger?”
“He made the decision to do it himself.”
“He’s a child.”
“Age is irrelevant.”
Her lack of remorse angered me, and I reflected on one of my own feats from my adolescence. Upon visiting myself and Lucian in Rome, Lena seduced my commander into matching me, at the age of thirteen, with a prisoner slated for execution in a fight to the death. It concluded with me feasting on his carcass in front of my countrymen in a public display of terror and savagery. I recalled that ghastly event to her and reflected upon my own guilt over the deed.
“You made me kill a man for sport,” I said.
“A hard lesson, but a necessary one,” she said glibly.
“So, you wanted Vincent to prove his abilities to you?” I snarled.
“No, I wanted him to prove his abilities to himself.”
Warriors aren’t born, Andronicus, they’re made.
That was one of her mantras I recalled from my upbringing, when I was fatigued or unwilling to commit some reprehensible act at her behest. She was consistent at least.
You made your way back to where we stood, and Lena’s smile mirrored your own as you presented your baskets, one in each hand. You wouldn’t have had the strength to lift them in the physical world. In dreams, we saw ourselves how we wished to be, and sometimes, as we feared.
“Good job, Vincent,” I said. “Those must be heavy.”
“I’m strong,” you said brightly.
Lena led us to a large oaken crate, which was already half-filled with grapes so that by adding your bounty, it was the ideal amount for stomping. Clearly, this was a ritual the two of you had embarked upon many times before, because the sensory details were quite vivid—the squishing of the grapes beneath your weight, the scent of overripe fruit in the air, and the stain of purple upon your ankles and feet.
“What are his powers?” I asked her. By knowing them I might at least be able to head off potential threats.
“He’ll reveal them to you when he’s ready. My only request is that you not convey them to Azrael or his Malakhim sycophant.” She’d meant your father, who, like me, was in the service of the Angel of Death.
“Why not?”
She stalled, choosing her words carefully in case you might overhear. “Azrael has a way of making our kind useful.”
I understood her meaning and heeded her warning. I supposed in some respects, we were on the same side, that of making you strong and capable enough to ward off the influences that might wish to corrupt you. Of course, in my mind she was one of those influences.
“Your master has not been very merciful in his treatment during my captivity,” she said in reference to Azrael. “I’m starved for blood and barely surviving.”
“I suppose that will make you think twice next time you consider stealing souls.”