Page 50 of Nightmare's Dance

The door slammed shut, because of course it did.

“Shit,” I muttered, and melted into the shadows just as shouts echoed down the hallway.

The guards rushed past, and I shuddered at how gray and lifeless they all appeared. When last I’d resided in Nightmare Castle, all the dream beings that lived here had been lifelike with their own imaginations and essence. The creatures that streamed past me were the barest imitation of what had once lived here. What was Baz up to, anyway? Beings like this had no chance of standing up to the more powerful dreams that might try to step into reality, no ability to negotiate or bring them over to an understanding of how they might exist both in Nightmare and in the conscious realm. Their primary function had always been to protect the conscious realm against powerful nightmares, not run around and play army for Baz.

Speaking of, Baz stormed down the corridor, shoving past the weird dream beings and slamming to a halt in front of the magically closed door. That I still couldn’t discern the magic he’d used to trap Ember inside worried me. I should have been able to sense anything Baz could manipulate.

He stared at the door. A slightly more animated-looking guard approached, bowing. “What is your wish, your highness?”

“I should leave them in there to rot,” Baz growled.

It took effort not to spring from the shadows and slide a blade pulled from my imagination through Baz’s throat. The trouble was, the animated guard carried a ray gun, and those things were bloody hard to deal with. Science fiction fans everywhere had created that particular addition to the dream realms. The edged weapons the lesser guards could conjure weren’t much of an issue.

“Now that we have the princess, we can dispose of the knight,” Baz continued.

For half a second, I was sorely tempted to let him follow through with that, but the heartbreak that would cause Ember pushed the impulse from my mind. I was not, however, ashamed that I’d thought it. She was supposed to be mine, to share only with my brothers. Instead, we’d lost her completely to a mere knight.

“Open the door and get her out,” Baz ordered.

The guard opened it and went inside, dragging a wide-eyed Ember out. The ray gun to her head likely had a lot to do with her lack of struggles.

“Hello, Princess,” Baz said slyly. “I didn’t appreciate your last game, but from now on, we’ll only play the ones I like.”

Ember shuddered.

I’d seen enough. I slipped from the shadow that hid me, to the one across the hallway, right behind Baz.

He stepped closer to Ember, reaching for her. I grabbed his shoulder, digging my fingers into his flesh and yanking him backward, my conjured blade going to his throat.

“Hello, brother,” I hissed. “Let her go.”

Baz tried to jerk out of my grip, and my blade sank into his flesh. He froze. “You’d kill your brother over her?” He sounded surprised.

“Yes.”

“You won’t escape the castle if you do,” Baz said.

“I think you overestimate your shadow of a guard. We can find out if you like?”

“Release her,” Baz ordered, anger tightening his voice.

“I’m not leaving without Geraint,” Ember insisted when the guard that held her shoved her away.

“I’ve got him,” the jester said, coming out of the cell with one of Geraint’s arms draped over his shoulder, supporting most of his weight.

Though made of dream essence, the knight had essentially been human for so long that I wasn’t entirely sure he would survive the abuse Baz had inflicted on him without assistance. Many of his bones looked broken, and even as out of it as he was, he clutched at his ribcage. He hobbled on one good leg, the other twisted where no joint should have been. His bare skin was bruised and bloodied, and I wasn’t exactly sure what color his hair should be, or what his normal skin tone was.

Tears glistened in Ember’s eyes, and I tightened my grip on the blade at Baz’s throat. Even if we had to fight our way out, we could escape after I killed him.

“Nic,” the jester said, holding out a hand, face tense.

Clenching my jaw, I refrained, barely, from murdering my brother. It wasn’t just the jester’s words that kept me from doing it. There were other consequences from killing a prince of Nightmare. If nothing else, there were meant to be three of us, and killing Baz early might trigger the next cycle—in which new princes or princesses of Nightmare would be cultivated. It might not, though, and I was almost angry enough to risk it.

Turning Baz by the grip I maintained on his shoulder, I marched us toward the nearest exit.

No one spoke, and the shuffle of feet on the stone floor drowned out the pounding of my heart and Ember’s soft sobs.

It wasn’t long before we reached one of the side exits. “Open the door,” I ordered the guard. He complied, and I dragged Baz outside of the castle.

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