Bill the Lizard stops us at the midway point. He holds out the two simulacrum suits I’d asked Grenadine to return to him.

“I’m sorry I lost one . . . that I stole them to begin with,” I whisper, ashamed.

He shakes his reptilian head and his long tongue flickers out. “I am a subject of the Red Court. Ergo, they belong to you, Majesty. Your thieving craftiness pales only to your application of their magic. You will make better use of them than I ever would.”

Stunned, I place my hand atop my chest. Underneath my dress, the ruby key necklace that opens my kingdom presses back. “Really?”

Bill holds out the suits.

I look to Morpheus.

He smiles and nods, encouraging me to take the translucent fabric. I tuck it beneath my arm and thank the lizard, who bows low to let us by. Rabid is waiting for us on the next step—dressed in a red vest and matching trousers. He opens his arms to carry the suits for me. My perfect little gentleman advisor. I pat the soft skin between his antlers as we climb.

Elfin guards line the upper half of the steps on either side. They draw their swords and touch the tips overhead, forming a glistening silver archway.

Jeb waits at the end, jaw clenched as if it’s killing him not to run to me.

While Morpheus and I ascend the stairs beneath the swords’ shadows, I nod at Jeb in assurance. His whole body relaxes. The circles under his expressive green eyes attest to a lack of sleep. The twelve hours we’ve been apart had to be torture. As strong as he was when we said our good nights, it’s obvious he feared they might actually be good-byes. That I would decide to spend my future in the human realm alone without him.

I can’t be in the same world as him day after day and not have him in my life. We love each other. We both want the same things. We will share those dreams and grow old together. A mortal life is precious and short in comparison to forever. It should be lived, and never wasted. Something that Morpheus understands now in a way he never did; otherwise, he wouldn’t be letting me go without a fight.

My face feels numb, less from the cold than the agonizing, uncomfortable situation I’ve placed them both in. I remind myself that this is the worst part . . . that once I step through the portal into the human realm, my two lives will mesh, yet at the same time never cross wires, unless it’s necessary for someone’s safety or well-being. That’s what we all agreed on.

A crust of frost grinds beneath my boots as I take the final step. The elfin knights salute us and return their swords to leather holsters. The jeweled blood beaded along their cheeks and temples shines like berries against the wintery background surrounding them. Clicking their heels, they descend the stairs to surround the castle at their posts.

Frowning, Morpheus offers my hand to Jeb. It’s the strangest gesture, grand and dignified, as if he’s walked me down the aisle and is giving me away. In a way, he is. For one human lifetime.

His wings rustle when Jeb takes my palm, an involuntary spasm. He’s straining not to take my hand back. “You know the protocol . . . should something happen to her body in your world, you or Alison must contact me immediately. Alyssa’s spirit must be housed for it to survive.”

Jeb nods. “I got it.” His answer is succinct and his tone even, but the worry in his expression gives him away. It’s something none of us like to think about, something we all hope will never have to be addressed.

Rabid’s pink gaze turns up to me, his pale face bewildered. I send him toward the door to rescue him from the morbid subject matter.

Morpheus waits for the skeletal clacking of bones to vanish within the castle, then drags a pair of gloves out of his pocket, proceeding to work them into place. “And I suppose it is unnecessary to tell you to treat her like a queen,” he grumbles to Jeb.

Jeb weaves our fingers together. “Just like it’s a waste of breath to ask you to lay off the seduction tactics in her dreams.”

“Is that jealousy I hear in your voice, pretty pseudo elf? Never fear. I’ll still think of you every day, whilst she’s with you.”

“I prefer you think of me every night, when she’s with you.” Jeb helps me peel Morpheus’s jacket from my shoulders, replacing it with his tuxedo coat—still warm from his body heat. “I’ll send an owl, as a reminder.” He hands Morpheus his clothing back.

Morpheus takes the jacket and folds it over his arm, patting the wrinkles out of it. He chuckles, though it’s mirthless and hollow. “I’m going to miss your bumbling attempts at wordplay.”

Jeb forces a smile. “Not as much as I’ll miss your pompous-ass condescension.”

They stare at each other, a mixture of amusement and restraint in their expressions. Begrudging respect bridges the underlying tension—a link that grew, without their even realizing or encouraging it, during the month they spent together in AnyElsewhere.

“You two want to be alone?” I ask, desperate to end the weird exchange.

Morpheus narrows his eyes. “I will see you tonight, Alyssa. And from this moment on, when you’re with me, I expect your mind to be as it was in our childhood. Fixed on Wonderland matters, and not the humdrum mundane of the mortal realm. Mend things there, so they won’t be a distraction while you’re fulfilling your royal obligations. Are you sure you don’t need my help to clean up all the messes? I’ve had some practice handling humans.” The smug grin he offers Jeb is filled with innuendo.

“We got it, Mothra,” Jeb says. “I can relate to their innocent sensitivities better than you ever could.” He raises an eyebrow, delivering his own underlying message.

There’s a muffled thud at the giant, crystallized door. Jeb and I glance over our shoulders where my parents are peering out. They both look beautiful and rested, but also anxious.

I tip my head in greeting and they wave, then withdraw deeper into the hall, to give the three of us privacy.

Jeb turns back around, his arm snug at my waist. “Are you coming in to see us off, Mort?”

Morpheus glares at Jeb pointedly. His bejeweled markings flash through a pastel palette, like a glittery sunset. Resolution flickers inside his inky gaze. “I want nowhere near the portal. I’ve had enough of your stagnant realm to last me a lifetime and then some.”

“I hope you mean it,” Jeb says. The statement isn’t barbed, just sincere.

“Oh, I most assuredly do. With the exception of that precious part of your world which will one day belong solely to mine.” Morpheus tips his hat my way and the bluish gray moths at the rim quiver, as if bowing. As he turns his back and takes the stairs, wings dragging through the snow behind him like a cape, a part of me aches with a deep sadness.

A gust stirs in his wake, kicking up a whirlwind of snow.

It’s better that we’re leaving through the Ivory portal. This painful parting would have been compounded by all my subjects’ faces looking back at me. I chose not to say good-bye to any of them last night when I visited the Red castle. It would’ve felt too final and strange, somehow. I take comfort knowing I’ll see them and Morpheus in my dreams.

After the moth-driven carriage lifts to the sky, Jeb turns me to face him. He brings my hand to his mouth and nuzzles my knuckles. His intense gaze roams every feature, from my eyes to my nose to my lips, as if he’s studying a painting again.