“Stop being such a slugabed,” came the declaration through the door.
Milo pulled the covers over his head, blocking the sunlight streaming through the window. Eyes glued shut, he tried to fall asleep. Things had just been getting good.
“You’re such a slugabed.”
He opened his eyes to the lilting accent of Amalia. His closet-sized room in Michigan had grown into an ornate suite nestled in the hills of medieval England. Birds chirped while men began the day’s work in the palace courtyard.
Sitting up, Milo blinked in the bright light. “I thought we were in the woods.”
Amalia’s eyebrow rose to her widow’s peak hairline, well-defined jaw tight. “Yesterday we were, but you collapsed just before slaying the ogre.”
He groaned, remembering when his alarm went off and ripped him from this reality. “Sorry.”
“I’d rather you be honest than apologize.” She sat on the corner of the stiff bed, red hair falling around her loose cream top. “I know you’re cursed. It’s the only explanation for your sudden exhaustion in battle.”
Definitely. Cursed by his mother to go to college classes and work. Cursed to be a scrawny sap who no one noticed unless they needed something.
Amalia rested her hand on his thick bicep, caramel eyes sparkling. “Tell me the truth. Let me help you stay here. With me.”
If only he could. He leaned in for a kiss before the alarm blared again.
Covers thrown off his bed, blinds opened. Clothes shoved in his face, disdain vocalized. Milo dressed and went to school, all the while daydreaming of Amalia. If only this were the dream and she reality.
Studying medieval history only made his dreams more satisfying. His career would go no further than stuffy college professor, though his internship at the museum could improve his options. Regardless of criticism, he kept going, waiting for the moment his head would touch his pillow.
“This is quite interesting.”
Milo glanced at the professor. Prone over a tome, she examined the ancient pages with a magnifying glass.
He checked his watch. 8:23pm. He could spend a few minutes as a sounding board. “What’d you discover?”
She lifted her head as if just recognizing his presence. Her grin said otherwise. “This volume appears to be a book of witchcraft circa 1400s. There are apothecary type potions in the early chapters, but here there’s a legitimate spell.”
“Medicine and magic were synonyms at that time.”
“But these words are a chant. And there’s mention of charms.”
Amalia’s comment about breaking his curse sprung to mind. A yawn burst from his lips. Oh dear, perhaps his mom was right.
“Hold on, Milo. Where’d you put that rock?”
Rock? He perused the shelves, trying to remember which bin he’d opened recently. Finding the smooth stone, he brought it to the professor.
She fingered the rock, tracing the marking. “Yes, this is the charm mentioned here. Now let’s see.”
Milo’s eyes grew heavy. He blinked away the fatigue, though the rock still seemed to be faintly glowing.
The professor’s giddy chuckle grated like a witch’s cackle. “To think we were so primal to believe in such totems. I bet some old woman sniveled, ‘Orban, revel’ with complete sincerity and–”
“Sir Olim?”
He opened his eyes. Amalia knelt beside him, concern knitting her brow. The museum became a shaded hut with jars and corked beakers of organs and sparkling liquid. A soothsayer with braided hair and reptilian eyes replaced the professor.
Blinking rapidly didn’t dispel the daydream. “Why am I here?”
Amalia tilted her head gracefully. “What do you mean? We discussed this.”
Sitting up, he took in the world around him. Primarily the colors. Had they always been this vibrant?
Warmth came at Amalia’s touch. “I broke your curse.”
Milo bolted to his feet and ran to the soothsayer. Snatching her book, he stared at the pages. Read the passages. Spells, potions.
Why could he read? This was a dream.
“Olim…”
“Send me back.”
Hurt paled Amalia’s features. “But you love it here. You love me.”
“You’re a dream, part of my imagination.” Why was he explaining this to a fantasy?
A prick made him flinch.
The soothsayer chuckled, clicking her fingernails together. “Remarkable.”
Milo rubbed where she’d pinched him, blood chilling at the sensation. At every sensation. “What’d you do?”
She licked her teeth with a smirk when she retrieved her book from his grasp. “I merely granted your love’s wish. But it seems neither of you understand just what you are.”
“And that is?”
“A traveler.” She glided toward the bookshelf as she continued, “When you fall asleep in your time, your mind comes to ours. Your body is only affected by whichever is your primary world. To grant Amalia’s wish, I merely changed your primary reality.”
Milo’s eyes widened, spine locking. “So, I’m awake?”
She nodded. “And when you sleep, you’ll return to your other reality. You will be there as you were here: dead.”
Grasping at composure, he measured his tone. “Reverse it.”
Her smile stung like venom. “I’m afraid I can’t. Your lover paid a heavy price, and you’d have to do the same. I suggest you get comfortable, good knight Olim. And be careful because this isn’t a dream.”