The tree-lined street of my childhood.

Their branches once arched so low that I could simply pull myself up into their crooks and idle away. Those trees are long gone now, burned away when the Federation had first conquered Basea. But I imagine it regardless, painting in my mind the picture of their wide leaves and the sun-dappled ground beneath them. Flowering bushes grow thick on either side of the small street leading to my family’s home.

And as I imagine it, it appears around us. Those beautiful, curving trees. The little stall on the side of the street that I used to visit, selling frozen cubes of sweet strawberry juice and ice-cold watermelon slices. The houses of our neighbors, each of their doors unlocked and some of them open, because there was simply no need to worry about thieves. And instead of me crouched in front of Red in the dank alley, we are instead both swinging our legs as we sit on the branches of the largest, oldest tree, savoring a breeze between the shady leaves, watermelon juice sticky on our lips.

It is so real that, in this dream, I believe it. My terror melts away, replaced by the deepest serenity I’ve felt in a long time, a sense of security and belonging and home. My emotions settle into a still lake. Peace hangs over the surface.

I let out a breath. Oh.

Red smiles as he looks around us in wonder. Now this is much nicer, he says gently.

If Constantine feels anything coming from me now, he will sense only my nostalgia, my contentment. And with any luck, Raina’s work in weakening my bond with Constantine should only help.

The warmth of having Red nearby seems so real that I lean into it, letting myself believe that if I wanted to, I could …

Touch his hand.

Touch his face.

Pull him to me.

Feel him whisper against my neck.

With all my effort, I hold back and keep my distance. Where are you in the city? I ask him instead.

Near the National Museum, he replies. He hesitates. We’re trying to gather more information on the artifacts that Constantine brought back from Mara.

An image flickers between us of the lab institute on the day before the first game. I catch a glimpse of him standing with a crowd as two soldiers rush a bleeding man to the institute on a gurney.

I frown. Why?

He shakes his head. I don’t know. But there’s something more to those artifacts—they must be more than a potential energy source for the Federation.

I nod, looking around at the serene street of my childhood. There is always another reason with this Premier.

Always, Red agrees.

We’re quiet for a moment as we soak in the peace around us. The metallic sheen of his hair shines under the dappled light. Even in a dream, he is so beautiful.

I wish this were real, I say. I wish I could erase everything that had happened in the arena with this.