50 years later
Or two weeks, depending on which world one found oneself in.
Mai knew logically that, in The Waking World, only around two weeks had passed them.
But for her, it felt closer to fifty years.
She hadn't realised quite how much time Reve had put into manipulating time for her so things continued to move at a steady pace. She also hadn't realised quite how hard it was to control the Dream World but then Reve had had thousands of years practice controlling his natural gifts.
She was making it up as she went along.
The first twenty years had not been so very awful.
She'd kept busy.
Her new world had a new day and night cycle and it was a joy to see the sun in the sky for hours at a time.
She had rebuilt the palace.
It was similar to Reve's original design because – for all her misgivings about the former owner – she liked much of what he'd created.
She had made one addition to the original design.
Off the island, on the mainland, she had created a grand, white marble gazebo, with towering pillars, silks and velvets, sweeping steps and glowing moonflowers.
Around it sprawled a beautiful garden.
And in the middle of it sat a throne.
Opposite the gazebo stood The Door of Broken Dreams, standing tall and proud and very firmly locked.
That night, Mai dropped into her throne and sighed.
She was bored.
She hated admitting it but she could see why Reve had coaxed people into his realm to find a moment's break from the quiet.
She might just have killed someone to have a presence like Angelique around, even if that presence hated her for it. Least it would be the voice of real person who thought and spoke their own mind over her own creations.
She moved to drop her cheek on her knuckles then paused, looking at her fingers.
They were stiffening again, the skin turning to porcelain.
She gave her hand a violent shake and the doll features receded, returning her hand to normal.
She could have done without that.
It was fine when she was awake; it took only a moment to fix.
But she'd had the fright of her life when she'd slept too long one night around the six-month mark and woke to find half her body had transformed.
Twisting in her throne and throwing her legs over one arm of the seat, she settled back against the other and stretched with a yawn.
"I want a drink, find me something interesting," she said.
One of the servants made of light appeared, bowed and vanished again.
She somewhat resented them
They could speak but they weren't real. They couldn't talk or understand anything beyond orders.
Holding up a hand, she drew a circle in the air and an image appeared.
Genevieve was in her room suffering through a doctor's examination.
YOU ARE READING
Dancing on Strings
Fantasy"A Princess to your kingdom before A Principal to your stage." Mai, Princess Royal and first of twelve daughters has only two priorities. Her family and her dance - and sadly her dance can never come before her family. Because of this, despite her...
