DEAREST

PART 4: DENSE WATERS, Ch. 2

2

As Luciana has magic circuits installed, I do everything I can to improve them during this time. Even with the remains of the dream inside my body, I begin to give Luciana tea infusions to manipulate her dreams. Magic circuits, closely linked to DNA, can be trained in this way. Doing this causes many things to occur, or rather, make the dreamer more prone to notice, once you start practicing any kind of magic.

She knows this will help her, so she doesn't ask me anything about it. I don't even have to tell her that my intention is to see if she can have dreams like mine. Two heads think better than one, I say, as I think I started experimenting on my own for the first time. My subject: an adorable and chivalrous young woman who loves food too much to question what she puts in her stomach.

For a few nights, or when Luciana is asleep, nothing happens. I consult the related literature in the library, and I conclude that I must let the magic circuits adapt. She spends most of her time training, and sometimes I watch her.

It's shocking when I see her in training clothes for the first time, dripping with so much sweat that a shining film forms on her skin, and I can see the sweat droplets where the light hits. It's also the first time I see a woman with a body like hers in person. She's very well toned and has an enviable athletic form. It has a flat chest and a small rear. When she hits the punching bag, it makes a terrible dry sound that hurts all over my body as if I were the sack myself, but it doesn't seem to hurt her at all. I guess it's the technique. I don't see signs of fatigue for a long time, and she trains in complete concentration, which impresses me a lot.

One night, I'm dragged out of my sleep by a familiar voice.

"Lady Odette, Lady Odette..."

It's my maid who calls me in a low voice, but with an alarming tone, and this tone brings me out of the silent darkness.

I nod awkwardly to let her know that I'm awake and listening, but I still can't open my eyes.

"It's miss Luciana, her maid told me to tell you that she needs Lady Odette in her bedroom. How can that be, when she knows that you're sleeping..."

It's not her reprimanding tone that finally opens my eyes, but the implication of the message.

I murmur, dragging the syllables:

"Is it a bad dream?"

The maid looks at me confused as she puts the robe on my shoulders. She thinks I'm still sleeping and talking in my dreams. I sound like a mother.

I go quickly to Luciana's room. Her maid is waiting for me, and as soon as she sees me entering the antechamber, she opens the door for me.

All this causes me true stupor. Although I have thought of myself in a situation like this—one of these days, having to listen to her dreams, and trying to make sense of them—the truth is that, at this moment, I feel out of place, my mind and my body separated one from the other, trying to unite them forcefully to be able to function properly.

How did she know she needed to call me? I haven't explained anything about the dreams she might have to her, and what we can do with them, but here she is, calling me because she has a nightmare.

The room is soaked in a dark blue light and the curtains filter the moonlight making everything look faded. I close the door behind me, and walk slowly to the bed, not really knowing what to do. I'm looking for Luciana's face from the other side of the semitransparent fabric that hangs on the four-poster bed, but it's not until I'm right next to the bed, that I realize that Luciana has her back to the entrance, sideways, with eyes open and staring blankly at the window.