All of Ronan’s frustration burst out of him, so strongly that the dream shivered with it. The air shimmered. The lake simmered. He was tired of the lessons. The games. The riddles. For some reason, he suddenly remembered the long-ago Christmas starlings bursting around him as Declan watched. That agony again of wanting to fly and being unable to explain it to anyone else.

He was suddenly either very afraid, or very furious. He snarled, “You can’t know when I made the decision!”

“I can,” Bryde said softly. “Because I know when you dreamt me.”

Chapter 36

What is real?

You make reality.

Just like that, Ronan was in the worst dream again. The dam was gone. The lake was gone. The warmth and clarity of Bryde’s dream was gone, replaced with Ronan’s old nightmare. He was standing in the bathroom of the Barns and there was a Ronan in the mirror. Behind him, Ronan could see the reflection of Bryde standing in the doorway.

“No,” he said.

Bryde said, “I only came because you asked me.”

“No.”

“Don’t say no. You know. You knew.”

“I didn’t know.”

“You knew,” Bryde insisted. “Deep down, you had to know. You had to ask for it, or it wouldn’t have happened.”

The dream changed. It was Lindenmere now. They were surrounded by Ronan’s massive trees, standing in the clearing where he had heard Bryde’s voice with Hennessy that day. The dream was impossible to separate from reality. The details were perfect. Every lacy fern. Every growing patch of lichen. Every mote of dust and insect gleaming in the air.

“No,” Ronan said again. “They knew your name. They knew the rumors.”

“You dreamt the rumors.”

“No. I can’t do that. Only you can do that sort of stuff. The orbs—”

“You dreamt it into me.”

The forest was alive with sound. Distant wings. Claws. Talons. Mandibles. Even after all these lessons, Ronan was no less likely to corrupt a dream than when he’d brought the murder crabs out at Adam’s dorm, when push came to shove. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why did you keep Adam out of your dreams?” Bryde asked. “You were sure he would know. You wanted to pretend.”

He frowned, just a little, and Ronan could feel that he was mentally driving the encroaching claws and talons out of the dream. Effortless. Controlled where Ronan was not.

“I didn’t want anything,” Ronan said. That was a lie. The dream threw it back at him. He thought he might throw up. “You knew about Hennessy. I didn’t know about Hennessy.”

“I know what Lindenmere knows,” Bryde said quietly. “I am both of you.”