Page 52 of Nightmare's Dance

“Nic,” I breathed. “You’re safe.”

“Yes, of course.” He kneeled next to me and studied Geraint, a frown wrinkling his brow.

Nic then glanced at me, clenched his jaw, and came to some sort of decision. I wasn’t sure what caused the sadness that clouded his eyes for a moment, but he put his hands on Geraint’s chest and pushed essence into my knight.

I could sense the energy transfer, but it didn’t seem like Geraint was accepting it.

“Maybe he’s been gone too long,” Nic said. “Most dream creatures can’t survive in the conscious realm for more than a few days or weeks at a time unless they’re a powerful manifestation. Vampires, for example, and werewolves and a few of the more popular cryptids have a great deal of power because of the huge number of people that dream of them. They’re some of the exceptions, surviving for months or years, or even never returning to the dream realms once they reach the waking world. Your knight was specially created to survive in the conscious realm.”

The shadowy prince leaned back and studied Geraint. I could feel the essence curling through my knight, trying to join with him.

“We can’t linger long,” Nic said softly, his hand going to my shoulder.

Tears blurred my vision. If we couldn’t save Geraint, then what was the point? I put my hand on my knight’s arm and willed what little essence I held into him.

This seemed to go better, and I grabbed Nic’s arm. “Can I?”

“Go ahead.” He sounded resigned, and I wondered why. Would this hurt him?

Still, he’d given permission, so I shut my eyes and pulled the essence from Nic and shoved it into Geraint. The energy flowed through me and into my lover, melding with the essence Nic had already shoved into him and curling through his body. He took so much, but finally I could tell we’d given him as much as he could hold.

I released Nic.

The prince sagged forward, sinking his fingers into the dirt, panting. “Nic?”

“I’ll be okay, Spark. See to your knight.”

He had faded mostly to shadow, and I couldn’t make out his features. Uncertain if I should worry or take him at his word, I went with the easy route and turned my attention to Geraint.

My partner’s color had vastly improved, and the bruising faded. His bones no longer looked broken. Old blood still covered Geraint, but he breathed easier, and after a minute or two, his eyes snapped open.

He looked first at me, and he heaved a relieved sigh. “Spark,” he breathed, his familiar Irish lilt banishing some of my fear.

I nodded, unable to speak for the lump in my throat. He wiped a tear from my cheek, then jerked his hand back when Nic cleared his throat.

Geraint paled again. “My liege,” he said hesitantly.

“We need to get out of here.” Nic stood, ignoring Geraint.

I got up and offered Geraint a hand. He accepted, and I pulled my partner to his feet. It broke my heart that he didn’t tug me into his arms. Instead, he shot a wary look toward Nic before glancing over at Robby.

The jester looked ridiculously happy, though I wasn’t sure if it was because Geraint was back on his feet, or because of the tension between Geraint and Nic.

“I’ve requested mounts.” Nic interrupted the awkward silence. “Until they respond, we will have to go on foot. We’ve lingered in one spot long enough.”

I grabbed Geraint’s hand and tugged. I couldn’t help it. I needed to be touching my knight. He didn’t pull away, but the normal familiarity of his touch was missing with the stiffness of his grip. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, I’d have made Nic and Geraint talk it out now. Except there were many things we hadn’t even begun to sort out. So maybe it was better to wait.

“What will we do if nothing responds?” Robby asked Nic. “How far does Baz’s reach extend?”

“We are still well within the territory he controls, but there is little loyalty to Baz. More, it’s fear that motivates those who dwell under his thumb. Who is strong enough to risk repercussions? And how badly will my people suffer because we rescued the knight?”

Geraint’s hand tightened on mine, but he didn’t say anything.

“We should head for the border,” Robby said. “The modern monsters should be strong enough to stand against Baz, what with all the strength they’ve gained with the monster fuckers and their vivid dreams.”

“What?” I sputtered.

Nic chuckled. “It surprised them, too,” he explained. “It started with the vampires, years back. They became popular and their home territory shifted slowly from deep in the darkest realms of Nightmare to the neutral boundary between dreams and nightmares. They’ve been in that middle ground ever since.

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