They look so lovely together, the White knight and his fairy bride, in one another’s arms at last. In spite of all they went through to reach this place, their love never faltered. They deserve this more than anyone I know.

My heart swells with happiness and I prepare for the tearing pain that’s sure to follow. Instead, a small ripple echoes the emotion. It’s like a dragonfly butting against my sternum—delicate and exhilarated. I take a deep breath, stronger and more at peace than I’ve been since I began this journey, maybe in my whole life.

Something stirs in the back of my skull. Red is still there, curled up in mourning, but she’s losing power by the second. It’s just a matter of time until she seeps out of me and withers away to nothing. I’m the only thing holding her inside, though I can let her go when I’m ready. Her spell on my heart has been mended.

How?

I look down at the vintage nightgown covering me. It’s stitched of sheer white fabric and lace—as transparent as the glass surrounding this room—with slits in the back for wings. A lacy silver corset bodysuit offers a modicum of modesty underneath.

Fuzzy purple light twinkles behind the corset’s bodice. The glow radiates from inside me . . . under my skin and behind my sternum.

My stomach flips. The last time I saw magic like this, it came from inside Jeb—a combination of Red’s and Morpheus’s strains.

Clacking footsteps bring my attention to the crystal doorway. A bald head shimmers in the shadows. Pink, dewy eyes glitter from inside the albino skin that hangs in rolls of wrinkles like a shar-pei puppy’s.

“Late, I say. Queen Alyssa. Late I be.”

I smooth my gown and smile. “Rabid. I was worried you were frozen.”

“Invited to the castle of ice, were we. Before the winter summoned by Ivory-fair.”

So that’s what I saw in my first dream of Mom. Ivory brought her, Grenadine, and my royal advisor Rabid White to stay here, where they’d be protected from the doldrums.

Rabid’s bunny-size silhouette waits in the hallway, unmoving.

“Please, come in.” I wave him forward. He hops across the threshold. His frothy lips pout in concentration as he balances the ruby crown on a pillow atop his gloved hands.

His skeletal body knocks against itself inside his red tailcoat with each ambling movement. I put a finger to my mouth to hush him.

He glances at my sleeping parents and slows his hops to awkward steps, intuitive in spite of his grim and wide-eyed appearance. That’s what makes him such a formidable royal advisor. Like most netherlings, he’s ambiguous. Introspective and unreadable when necessary. That’s how he tricked me last year into thinking he was out to kill me, when all along he only wanted to set me upon my throne.

He’s dressed like he was that first time I met him, except today his coat is flocked and has black velvet buttons and a matching fur collar.

Sympathy rushes through me for the hideous form hidden under the lavish clothes. I will never forget how Red stripped him of his pride and his skin. A part of me wants to tell him the truth. That she caused his deformity; that when she saved his face from the acid, it was all a ploy to secure his loyalty. But what good would it do to tell him he was a pawn? Red isn’t a threat anymore, to anyone. It’s actually sad, how worthless and helpless she is now.

A twinge of deep remorse nudges inside my skull where she hides. It grows as Rabid gets closer to the bed, enough that Red whispers inside me, “Please . . . relieve me of my misery. Let me tell him of my regret for my actions, then release me so I may cease to exist.”

Too little too late, I whisper back internally, fighting any inclinations toward mercy. I’ve yet to decide your fate.

Rabid arrives beside my bed and holds up the pillow. His fuzzy white antlers almost topple him as he kneels. I place a hand on his head to balance him. We went through some crazy stuff together when he snuck into the human realm before the prom-pocalypse. He’s earned my everlasting trust and affection.

He sighs—a contented sound—then continues, “Time it is, Queen Grenadine says.” Foam slathers around his mouth as he speaks. “Crown Queen Alyssa, she commands.”

Puzzled, I take the pillow, setting it on my lap over the covers. Coiled in the crown’s center is a new ruby-tipped key and filigreed chain. I place it around my neck. I’ve missed wearing the key to the kingdom against my chest. My fingertips trace the crown’s intricate golden frame, and I hold it up so the rubies shimmer in the faint light.

“Alyssa, no!” Mom’s startled voice causes poor Rabid to lurch headfirst to the floor. I set the crown aside, throw off the covers, and swing my bare feet down to help him stand. Mom and Dad are next to me in an instant, blinking their bleary eyes.

“Hi?” I say, more of a question. They hug me, sandwiching me between her floral perfume and his mossy clean scent. Mom kisses my forehead, and Dad nuzzles my curled and primped hair.

“We were so worried,” Mom whispers.

“I’m okay,” I answer. I glance up at Dad. “But I don’t understand how . . . ?”

He opens his mouth, but clams up as Rabid scales the bed and digs through the blankets for the crown, holding it out once more. “Ready to serve Queen Alyssa, be I. Long time await. Have much and many debts to pay. Loyal, always and forever-evermore.”

“It’s not time yet.” Mom wipes tears from her face and takes the crown from Rabid’s hands.

Rabid hisses, his sharp teeth bared, eyes glinting hot. “Otherwise, Queen Grenadine says.”

I place my hand on his head and he bows again, obediently relaxing.

“The plan has changed,” Dad says, moving with caution as he helps the netherling climb down. He walks him to the door. “We sent word to Grenadine, but she must’ve forgotten. She doesn’t have her ribbons to help her remember right now. Why don’t you get Ivory for us? She’ll explain everything.”

Rabid’s pink eyes lose their shimmer, hazy like cotton candy. Before the door closes he mutters, “Zombies in Toyland?”

Dad pauses shutting him out and exchanges a worried glance with Mom.

I giggle. “It’s a game on my phone. Rabid beat my high score a few weeks ago.” I smirk at my little advisor. “We’ll play it again soon. I have to get my title back.”

His eyes brighten. “Generous are you! Cookies, too? Rabid White hungry be. Always.”