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Nic nodded, as if he’d been expecting that.
“Wait, she’s engaged,” Geraint tightened his grip on me.
“Yeah, she’s got some stuff to sort out, but it was the only way she was going to be able to get home and potentially the only way we were going to save Dream anyway.” I sighed. “It’s a mess. But the whole thing is a mess. We’re also quiet dead according to the mortal world.”
“Oh,” Geraint replied. “That’s unfortunate.”
“Yeah, so much for our performance group.” I couldn’t even feel bad about that at the moment. I’d rescued my men. I lay in my knight’s arms and I was surrounded by my princes. The performance company seemed like a different lifetime now. A distant dream.
“A problem for later,” Nic said gently. “Tell us how we will defeat Effie.”
I outlined the plan.
“We’d best get started, then.” Nic offered me a hand and reluctantly, I let him help me to my feet.
First thing, I needed to make a mirror so we could get the princesses and Ash here.
***
Hours later, Ash and I stood with the princes and princesses arrayed behind us. We’d taken the beautiful oasis sanctuary Baz and I had created and turned it into the most exquisite prison. I’d hated to sacrifice the swimming hole, but we could create another. If this worked. And it had been the only available large source of dream essence we could readily find.
The biggest challenge had been to make the interior malleable so that it would respond to the one we hoped to trap inside. Right now, it was mostly an empty shell full of potential.
“Now we just have to convince her that is the way home.” I kicked a dusty rock. About all that was left of our temporary sanctuary.
We’d fashioned a shield of sorts around the bubble that should be a one-way trip for Effie. It showed the New York skyline as best as Ash and I could remember it. I tapped into my love of color and shape, remembered the countless sketches I’d made. I didn’t cut corners, enjoying the art of conjuring every building, every broken sidewalk.
Once Effie stepped inside, it would slowly mold to her expectations and give her what she wanted. We hoped.
One way or another, she wasn’t coming out again.
It would still be safer to simply kill her, but none of us could bring ourselves to outright murder Effie. Of course, we’d also attempted to alter the energies so she’d resume aging, too. That had been Ash’s idea. So eventually, she would hopefully die in the comfort of a long career and in someone’s loving arms, or whatever it was that she desired.
We had fashioned the entrance after the shattered mirror pieces I’d used to access the nothingness, and after what I’d seen inside. We thought that might be the most convincing way to get her home.
Of course, we had to get her here first.
“Okay, everyone who doesn’t need to be here, get out of sight,” I ordered, when I was satisfied our ruse was as perfect as we could make it.
Everyone but Nic and Geraint tucked themselves into a small, uncomfortable cave I’d crafted with the very last of the excess dream energy. It was basically only big enough for them to sit in.
As soon as they were gone, I hid the entrance from view with another boulder. They’d be able to shift it out of the way if something happened to me, but right now it looked like a big pile of rocks. All that was left of Dream.
I turned to my shadowy prince. “Nic, ready?”
He slipped into shadowy mist then reappeared at my side. I folded myself into his arms and he held me close.
“As ready as I can be, luv. If she’s still in the shadow realms, I’ll bring her here.”
He leaned over and I pressed my lips to his. So much had happened since I’d fled Nightmare Castle and Nic had found me and helped me get back to the conscious realm.
For a moment I melted into his embrace. The passion in his kiss and the tightness of his grip let me know how much he wanted me. Nic released me and kissed my forehead.
“I love you, spark,” he whispered. “I’m so glad our paths crossed all those years ago.”
Stunned, I gaped at him. Nic winked, then swirled into shadow, vanishing before I could reply.
Geraint came up behind me and put his arms around my waist. “He’s got good taste.”
