From The Ashes (The Ministry of Curiosities #6)(12)

I put my arm around her. "Don't jump to conclusions until you know for certain."

She stared down at her hands. "I suppose they sent me here because they didn't know what else to do with me. At least they didn't lock me away in a real prison."

"Very true," I muttered, recalling my time in a police holding cell. The castle's dungeon was paradise by comparison.

"Charlie, what am I to do? What if the queen's soldiers return the next time I fall asleep?"

"It has only happened twice so far, the last time being…?"

"Two months ago."

"Did something trigger it then and this time too?"

Her mouth twisted to the side in thought. "I was anxious about you being sent to the dungeon. I pleaded with Mrs. Denk to free you, but she refused. In fact, she said you would be punished more for my impudence." She cringed. "She told me you would go without food for an entire day. I'm sorry, Charlie."

"It's hardly your fault." I hugged her. "I would have done the same thing in your situation. And the other time, two months ago?"

Her face colored. "A business associate of Papa's asked me to marry him. I've known him since I was young. He's older than me by about twenty years, and kindly enough, but I didn't want to marry him. My parents wouldn't listen to my protests and insisted I encourage him. It was awful. I contemplated running away, but then the next thing I knew, I had the dream where everyone came to life. I haven't been in communication with my parents or the gentleman since they sent me here."

"And those are the two worst situations you've found yourself in? You've never been more upset?"

"There was the time my little brother died. I was inconsolable for weeks. My dreams didn't come alive then."

I lay down on the bed and considered how I would feel given the two situations that had triggered the living dreams. Upset, yes, but angry and frustrated too. As a young woman, few people listened to your opinion, let alone allowed you to make decisions. At least Lincoln, for all his faults, respected me.

I sat up. "Do you think you've ever been angrier?"

She leaned back on her hands. "No-o. Perhaps not."

"Or frustrated?"

"Not both together." Her features lifted and she sprang up. "Charlie, do you think that's it? Do you think it's a combination of anger and frustration that's making my dreams come to life?"

"I don't know. Perhaps."

She paced the room, which she managed in three strides. "You may be right." She turned and paced the other way. "My God, I think you are. I hated the powerlessness I felt both times. I was backed into a corner with no way out."

"A way out was provided by your dreams," I said quietly. "In a rather dramatic way."

She laughed and caught my hands. "You're right. I know you are."

"That makes you happy?"

"At least now I know the trigger. It's such a relief."

"I imagine it is." I smiled. "I don't suppose you have any food tucked away anywhere? I'm starving."

She gasped. "Of course you are! I'll sneak down to the kitchen and get you something." She gave me a quick hug then left.

I removed my clothes and washed then dressed in fresh linen and a green woolen dress. My hand still hurt so I wrapped some linen around the swelling. I tucked myself into bed, skirts and all, and considered Alice's strange affliction. I was glad she now knew her trigger, but it would be nearly impossible to never feel frustrated and angry again. This entire drama would likely reoccur. Poor Alice. Imagine having an entire army chase you, and a powerful queen want to chop your head off! It made the killer who was after me and other supernaturals seem tame.

Despite the morning's turmoil, my thoughts wandered to the days before my departure from Lichfield, and the mystery surrounding the deaths of Reginald Drinkwater and Joan Brumley, as well as the attempts on my own life. The murderer had probably committed more crimes too. We'd been deeply suspicious of the untimely deaths of Captain Jasper and the men who'd helped him in his mad scheme to develop a serum to bring dead people back to life. What made it so much worse, however, was the likelihood of someone with access to Ministry archives being involved, or perhaps even being the murderer. I wondered if Lincoln had unearthed the culprit yet.

Lincoln.

It was these quiet moments I hated most of all. They allowed me time to think, and I inevitably thought about him, about his change of heart, and what might our lives have been like together if we'd married. Tears burned my eyes and clogged my throat. Dreaming about that future was pointless. My dreams never became real.

Alice returned carrying a covered plate. "I found some slices of cold meat, cheese and bread." She dug into her skirt pocket and pulled out a parcel wrapped in cloth. "And a small slice of fruit cake. Will that do? "

"It's the best meal I've had in an age," I said, accepting the plate. "Thank you, Alice."



Mrs. Denk had some local youths clear away the rubble from the turrets and patch up the worst of the damage until more permanent repairs could be undertaken. A carpenter and his apprentice came to fix the front door. With so many men around, we were ordered to resume classes out of sight. I suffered through needlepoint and watercolor painting with a cheery smile that was all show for Mrs. Denk's benefit. When it finally came time for a rest between classes, I gathered the girls whom I'd pegged as supernaturals and led a quiet but enlightening exchange.