The dream is like watching a fish swim beneath icy water.
It is distorted at times, and hard to see what is going on, but I can definitely feel every chilled current that lingers on my skin.
The first thing that comes to mind upon opening my eyes is white. Like those pictures I’d seen of Arctic landscapes in the books at the library. Silver and ivory and alabaster dust until all the eyes can see is white, and it is unclear where one particle begins and the other ends. My eyelids feel bulky with the weight of invisible lead, but not the normal kind. I’m a thirty-year-old woman who’s upheld the role of Spymaster for half of her life and who’s completed several recon assignments into the Royal Palace and returned hardly scathed, so I could handle lead. Physical endeavors have never been too big of a problem for me. But this kind of lead is different. It is the kind that pulses through your blood vessels so that limbs are almost unmovable. The kind