The Dream Cages #16

"It's not intentional," Adam said, more to himself than to Matthew. It didn't take much to convince himself Ronan hadn't realized what he was doing, what Cabeswater was doing. After all, Ronan had come after them and had seemed as confused as they'd been.

Ronan... Adam hoped wherever Ronan had woken up, he hadn't been too bloodied. It occurred to him Ronan might try to return. They needed to get out before Ronan got back in, else the cycle might be endless. It was already vicious.

Adam extended his hand to help Matthew to his feet. Then he regarded the dragon. Some ten to twelve feet tall, but not as impeccably designed as most of Ronan's dream creatures. Because, of course, this wasn't one of Ronan's.

This one was his.

Or, rather, it had come from the spaces he frequented when he scried. Adam didn't make those things, they simply existed in the black. Spirits or demons or... He didn't know. He sometimes caught glimpses in the candlelight, but he'd never seen one so exposed.

Yet it wasn't totally bare to scrutiny. The leathery skin that was the color of dried blood, the bat-like wings, the claws, the beakish maw, the yellow eyes—Adam could discern these features, but they were were somewhat obscured, as though the creature kept a cloud of dark smoke around it that prevented it from being seen clearly. The dragon was not a fully formed idea.

"I think it can only take us one at a time," Adam said.

Matthew shrugged. "It's all right. I'm not going."

It took a moment for the words to penetrate. Even still, Adam couldn't trust what he thought he'd heard. "What?"

"I'm fine here," Matthew insisted. "I like it."

"If I don't get you home, Ronan..." Will never forgive me. Will come back here and get himself killed.

But Matthew only shrugged again. "He can visit, can't he? He was just here."

"He thinks you're dead."

"Then me staying should be a relief," Matthew reasoned. "I mean, at least I'm here."

"Matthew..."

"Look," Matthew said, and though his signature smile remained fixed, something other than his usual sparkle showed behind his blue eyes. "I'm not smart like Declan and Ronan. I never really expected to be or do much of anything in life. And the truth is, I don't really have to. I'm not saying I just want to live off the money Dad left, but..." His gaze drifted toward the cows. "I'm not really fit for anything else."

Adam swallowed the lump in his throat. It wasn't his place to tell Matthew that his flaws were not his fault. That they came from a three-year-old's inability to shape the intricacies of humanity. When Ronan had dreamt Matthew, he hadn't been looking for "smart." He'd been looking for happiness. And Matthew was that, made flesh.

Yet there was no such thing as pure happiness. Because happy didn't exist without sad as a contrast.

Could a dream be self-aware?

But even as Adam wondered, the moment passed, and Matthew returned to his uncomplicated, smiling self. "I'll stay," he said again. "You go tell Ronan that I'm all right."

It was, Adam decided, an argument for another time. And Matthew was in less immediate peril than he was anyway. Dream bodies slept. They didn't die.

"Okay," Adam said. He turned to the dragon. "Lead the way."