“Vhalla, I know of a great many powers in this world ...” He pulled back and ran a thumb over her wet cheeks. “I know of powers to see the future in flame and ash. I know of powers to listen to echoes of the past in waves. I know of powers that can heal almost any illness. I know of powers to walk outside of one’s own body.” Aldrik smiled gently at her. “But I know of no power of dreams.”

“It-it was real.”

“Hush, you’re not making sense. Take a breath and go back to sleep. It is barely dawn, and my father didn’t speak of having your demonstration until noon.” He kissed her forehead lightly, and Vhalla’s guilt made her pull away from him to sit up.

“You don’t understand. It was real. My dreams, they’re not—” A shiver ran down her arms. “They’re not always dreams.”

“Come, you’re cold,” Aldrik sighed. “What is it you think they are?” He yawned, blinking sleep away and propping his head up with his elbow.

She relented, lying back down into the covers but avoiding his embrace. “They’re,” Vhalla sighed and closed her eyes, bracing herself. “They’re your memories.”

“What?” Aldrik studied her.

“My dreams, at least sometimes, are your memories. I don’t know how, or why, or when they will happen, but they do.” She gulped at his silence.

“Why do you think that?” he asked, turning serious. “Because there’s no reason why I should dream anything like what I see,” she whispered.

“Dreams are strange, Vhalla. Who knows why we dream what we do.” Aldrik laid back down.

“No,” she snapped; he wasn’t taking her as seriously as she had wanted. She recalled a prior vivid dream. “The man who stabbed you was your brother’s guard, he was a Westerner, and his son was in the town that you attacked.”

Aldrik’s eyes grew wide. “Did Baldair tell you that?”

“No!” Vhalla fought to keep her head from turning into an emotional mess. “Aldrik, they are my dreams! You were at a garden in the West with the sculpture of a woman on an obelisk with a gold and ruby sun. There was a man there who told you—of all people—to stop fidgeting.”

“My mother’s grave.” Aldrik’s lips barely moved. His eyes were suddenly burning with a dark intensity, and he grabbed her shoulder. “What else?” he demanded. “What else have you seen?” His fingers dug into her skin.

She struggled to remember anything else but her most recent dream. “You in the dark, with another woman ...”

“Mother ...” He hung his head in shame.

“With, when-when Egmun made you ...” Vhalla struggled to find words, still reeling.

“When he what?” Aldrik’s teeth were clenched. “When he what?”