Rebel Spring by Morgan Rhodes

impossible that he had. He couldn’t be much older than she was. “Then why have you only introduced yourself now?”
    “It wasn’t the right time before.” His lips quirked. “Although, believe me, of those of my kind, I am
not
the most patient. It’s been difficult to wait, but I’m introducing myself now. I can help you, princess—and you can help me.”
    He spoke nonsense. If he really was a Watcher, an immortal being who lived in a world apart from that of mortals, why would he need the help of a sixteen-year-old girl?
    Then again, she realized, she was no regular sixteen-year-old girl, as she’d readily proven by setting her fist ablaze with a mere thought.
    “I don’t believe anything you say to me.” She put as much conviction into her words as she could muster, even though she had a sudden desire to learn as much as she could about Alexius. “Watchers—they’re only legend, and this . . .
this
is just a silly dream. I’m dreaming you, that’s all. You’re nothing but a figment of my imagination.”
    She’d never realized her imagination was this incredible.
    Alexius crossed his arms, studying her with both interest and an edge of frustration, but didn’t attempt to get any closer. He looked again at her clenched fist, which continued to burn like a torch. It caused her no discomfort, only a slight warm sensation. “I thought this would be easier.”
    She laughed at that, the sound raw in her throat. “There’s nothing easy about this, Alexius. I want to wake up. I want out of this dream.”
    But how could it be a dream when it felt so real? She could smell the flowers, she felt the ground beneath beneath her bare feet, the damp sponginess of the moss, the ticklish spears of grass. No dream had ever been this vivid. And what was that crystal city just over the hill? There was nothing like it in the mortal world—or like this strange and magical meadow. She would have heard of something so astonishing. Even in the books describing the legends about Watchers, she’d never seen an illustration or description of such a city.
    He followed her line of sight. “That is where we live.”
    Lucia’s gaze snapped back to his and her breath caught. “Then why aren’t I there? Why am I here in this meadow?”
    Alexius briefly scanned the area. “This is where I fell asleep so I could find you in my dreams. It’s private here and quiet. Very few know I like to come here.”
    She began to pace in short, quick lines, her white skirts swishing, so long that they nearly tripped her up. She focused all her attention on Alexius, half expecting him to lunge forward and attack her at any moment. For him to peel back his handsome face and reveal something horrific and ugly beneath. Perhaps he was a demon keeping her asleep and trapped in nightmares—she’d once read of such a thing, although, again, it was in a child’s book of stories she’d read quickly before tucking it away beneath her bed so no one would see it.
    Fine. If she was stuck here, she needed to talk. She needed answers to questions that bubbled up in her throat—about the strange and alluring Alexius, about everything.
    “How old are you?”
    His brows rose, as if he hadn’t expected this question. “Old.”
    “You don’t look old.”
    “None of us do.” His amused expression had begun to enrage her. There was nothing amusing about this. “You can put out the fire, princess. I mean you no harm today, I assure you.”
    Her hand continued to burn. With a focused thought, she made the flames higher and brighter. She would take orders from no one, especially not some imaginary boy from her dreams.
    It only made Alexius’s smile grow. “Very well, have it your way. Perhaps if you see for yourself—even in the confines of this dream—what I am, you might begin to believe it. This is only our first meeting. There will be others.”
    An unbidden shiver of anticipation slid up her spine. “Not if I have anything to say about it. I