e saw a weary young
man, whose face showed that he had given up all hope. He lifted a
stick-thin arm, rejecting her utterly.
“They told me the truth. You were exported for aiding a prisoner.
I’m not susceptible to dreams anymore.”
“Stefan!” She fell to her knees. “Do we have to go through this
every single time?”
“Do you know how often they re-create you, bitch?”
Elena was shocked. More than shocked. But the next moment the
hatred had faded from his face.
“At least I get to look at you. I had…I had a picture. But they took
that, of course. They cut it up, very slowly, making me watch.
Sometimes they made me cut it. If I didn’t cut it, they would—”
“Oh, darling! Stefan, darling! Look at me. Listen to the prison.
Bloddeuwedd is destroying it. Because I’ve stolen the other half of your
key from her nest, Stefan, and I am not a dream. Do you see this? Did
they ever show you this?” She held out the hand with the double fox ring
on it. “Now—now—where do I put it?”
“You are warm. The bars are cold,” Stefan said, clutching her hand
and speaking as if reciting out of a children’s book.
“Here!” Elena cried triumphantly. She didn’t need to take the ring
off. Stefan was holding her other hand, and this lock worked like a seal
ring. She placed it straight into a circular depression in the wall. Then,