Dearest Reader,

Because I care so deeply for you, I try not to include many dreams in my stories. For me, as a reader, I find them very disappointing. Either they get your hopes up that some great thing occurred, and then you find out it didn't. Or you're horrified and spend a lot of emotional energy being upset, only to find out it was a nightmare that never happened.

So manipulative!

That being said, I am going to include a short dream here. It won't get your hopes up or let them down.

But it serves a purpose, which will soon become apparent.

I hope you enjoy it!

So ... without further ado, we now fly through the narrative, into an alternate universe, where we traverse the sky, trees, glass, flesh, and bone, and find ourselves inside the unconscious brain of our heroine, Princess Ashley.

Watching the velvet-draped dancers spin and dip beneath the dais, Ashley gripped the gem-studded arms of her gilded throne, even as her palms bled from the sharp facets of the diamonds, rubies, and emeralds.

The air was redolent with wine and summer roses, and Ashley's pulse matched the swell and ebb of the music—her heart obeying the strings' rhythm.

The music sped, and the ladies' gowns swirled in hypnotic pirouettes.

No one noticed that blood seeped from the dancer's shoes, streaking the white marble red. Ashley wanted to rise from her throne and warn them, but she could not move. She could not speak. The throne was a prison, and she was merely another sparkling bauble fixed upon it.

A lump swelled in her throat, threatening to cut off her air. She saw fear in the eyes of the fevered dancers. The music controlled them as well.

A ghostly voice spoke to her in shivered whispers, confiding that she alone could stop the madness, but ghosts make poor messengers. They never tell you how anything is to be done.

The dancers crushed toward the stage, looking up at her, pleading. This was when she recognized faces—Layyin, her guards, Gerald, Terrowin, her ladies-in-waiting, the court, the villagers.

The room slowly filled with blood, and still, she could not move.

Laughter drifted down from the string players stationed upon the balcony. Ashley looked up and caught the glittering eyes of the musicians—Druscilla, Marveloni, and Charming. She tried to look away, but they gripped her in their gaze.

She woke, sweaty and shaken, pulse rushing.

A dream, only a dream, she told herself before the memory scattered like autumn leaves.

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Here's what's sad—the fact that Ashley found herself in a glass coffin on a bed of roses was by no means the worst part of Ashley's day.

Not that being entombed in that old standby of fairy tales—the glass coffin—was much fun. Ashley's hands lay demurely on her chest, clutching a single rose, the bloom brushing against her chin.

The rose fragrance was fine, but beneath her, thorns stabbed into her back.

It turns out that life was like a bed of roses—sweet aroma, velvety petals, and bursts of color, but sheathed in thorns. You cannot have one without the other. The important thing was to be cautious and gather some joy while avoiding as much pain and blood as possible.

But sometimes you don't have a choice. For example, when an evil magician magics you inside a glass coffin on a literal bed of roses.

There was barely enough space for her chest to rise and fall. And her neck had developed a painful spasm.

She'd lost Layyin and a dozen faithful guards—their deaths laying like slabs of granite upon her soul. So many dead, and soon she and the others would join them. Being trapped inside a casket made her practically a corpse already.

Ashley would grieve for whatever time remained to her in this life and probably for an eternity in hell while demons feasted upon her entrails, or while demons forced her to eat goat cheese, or while demons feasted upon her entrails while forcing her to eat goat cheese.

An eternity of guilt would be adequate punishment, but that would deny the demons their fun.

If only she hadn't written to her fellow royals begging for a sleepover. Promising them adventure.

Though one could argue, this had been an adventure, only a bad kind. The sort of expedition suffused with mosquito bites, blisters, sunburn, frostbite, arguments over whether it was a left or right turn at the fork in the road, and of course, massive bloodshed.

Ashley had failed to keep her people safe. A sob rose in her throat.

But no! Right now wasn't the time. She could not properly grieve those who'd been lost until she'd done all she could to save the others. She could lay there like a helpless princess waiting for her fate to show up and control her or figure out a way to escape.

First off, where had the magician sent them?

Ashley recalled seeing glass glimmering at the edge of the garden when they were there before. Those had to have been the coffins Druscilla promised. So they must have been magicked into the garden and entombed to wait for Marveloni to murder everyone at his leisure.

And since there were coffins promised to all, this meant her fellow royals had to be close by. But then what? Did it do any good for them to break out of the coffins when they could no longer leave the garden? They'd done an excellent job obliterating the circle's runes so that escape route was not an option.

But! But, but, but. They were in a magical garden. And where there was magic, there was possibility. The rules of nature did not apply. Which meant if they could escape the coffins, perhaps they could find a way to leave altogether and stop Charming, Marveloni, and Druscilla from their dastardly plans.

She tried to see if the others were near, but all attempts to crank her head to the side proved unsuccessful.

All she could do was look up at the feeble sunlight filtering through the withered branches of the apple tree, which hung over the coffin, its poisonous fruit dangling like bats.

If she were to try and push against the glass, she'd need leverage, which meant creating more space above.

The only way to do that would be to bear down on the already prickly bed of thorns. Bracing herself, Ashley released the rose in her hands and shifted her behind back and forth, gasping as hundreds of points of pain pierced her back and arms. Hot, sticky metallic-smelling blood seeped into her dress. She gritted her teeth and kept pushing. Once she'd gone as far as possible, she was able to work her right arm along her chest and place her hand over her shoulder, fist side up, then did the same with her left. Pushing up with all her strength, she groaned, but the glass did not budge.

Although the sides of the coffin were transparent, Ashley's efforts to break free had failed, and she felt as if they were closing in. Her breathing ramped up, and sweat dripped down her temple and slid behind her neck. She tried again, crying out from the pain like a babe.

Why couldn't she be more like Layyin? When she had flung herself over that mountain, had she sniveled in fear? No! She cried, "wheeeee," as if she was taking flight. As if she was delirious with the joy of a new and exciting experience.

So, so brave.

And a little crazy.

Even for Layyin, this reaction seemed odd.

Dear, dear, crazy, kind, funny, fearless Layyin. What would she do if she woke trapped in a glass casket with friends to rescue?

Would Layyin lie here feeling sorry for herself?

No. Way.

Layyin would look for the most dangerous way to solve the problem, and with her exuberant, rabid boldness, it might even work. Even if it didn't, she'd leave chaos, explosions, and blood loss as a parting gift to her enemies.

Wait!

That was it!

The answer ...

Exuberant, rabid boldness.

Ashley needed energy and strength. And this whole time, she had a supply of Essence d'enfant stuffed into her bodice. She squealed in excitement. But how could she get to it when she could barely move?

Slowly, that was how.

Inch by inch, Ashley worked her hands down her neckline, reaching under the fabric toward the bottles. They clanged against one another. Her hands were so sweaty and shaking, and there was so little space in which to operate, the business was slow and painful. The back of her gown was wet with blood. But she persevered, as Layyin would.

Finally, she clasped her thumb and forefinger over the stem of a bottle and nudged it out.

Now she had to uncork it and somehow get it to her mouth.

Because she'd bled and sweated on her thorny bed, it compressed down, giving her enough space to slide the bottle horizontally toward her mouth and grab the cork with her teeth.

Biting down, she removed the cork. Several drops of the precious liquid leaked onto her chest before she spat out the cork and brought the bottle to her lips. Drinking lying down was not easy, and the liquid choked her. But eventually, she stopped coughing, relaxed her throat, and swallowed.

The potion's effects were immediate, and her blood (at least the dregs which remained inside her body) was heated. Her brain rippled with energy. Power suffused her being.

How would Layyin escape?

Ashley knew.

With showmanship and maximum turmoil. Also, maximum wreckage.

Her fists drawn, Ashley moved her arms horizontally and slammed them against the sides of the casket. It exploded, glass flying everywhere, and Ashley leaped out into the fresh garden air. Shards of glass had lodged themselves her skin, but who cared about pain? She had a job to do.

Sure enough, the coffins were all aligned, and Derek, Sadira, Tressa, and Kai lay there asleep. Why had she awakened, and the others hadn't? Probably because some of the potion Ashley had drunk when they were in Marveloni's lair remained in her veins.

One casket was empty. Layyin's. Poor Layyin!

But the coffin on the end was inhabited with a beautiful princess. Hair as black as coal. Skin as white as, what was it? A swan's feather? An old man's beard? Flour? A frolicking snow leopard? A wedding gown?

Whatever.

The point is, Ashley's heart filled to bursting.

"Princess Blanche!" she said, smashing open the casket. She carried the limp princess to a safe, non-shard-laden location under an apple tree and dribbled potion into her mouth.

Blanche's long dark eyelashes fluttered. "Where am I? And why do I feel so full of energy?"

"Long story, Ashely said. (Almost as long as this novel!) "There's a lot to catch you up on. But I'll tell you after we get there."

"Get where?"

"The Games."

"How and why?"

"No idea," Ashley said. "But we shall! We're in a magical garden. Which means there's magic everywhere. All we have to do is find it. As far as why, we have to stop Charming and his magician pals from their reign of terror."

"Makes sense," Blanche said.

Next, she freed Derek, laid him on the grass beside Blanche, and fed him some potion. "Derek Junior!" Derek cried upon opening his eyes. "Wow! That potion packs a mean kick. Can I have more?"

"No, I need it for the others!" Ashley said.

"Who is Derek Junior?" Blanche said. "Did Derek have a child? How long have I been asleep?"

"Blanche! You're alive," Derek said, hugging the princess. "And yes. I have a son now! Isn't that amazing. You'll love him. I haven't had the baby shower yet, but I have ideas. A fourteen-tier cake, champagne, cigars, a play written in his honor, fireworks. You know, the basics. Where is the little fellow?" Derek scanned the vicinity.

"He's with his bio mom. Remember?"

Blanche shook her head. "Bio mom? I must've been out for a long time."

In short order, Ashley had shattered the remaining coffins and revived Sadira, Tressa, and Kai. A brief reunion ensued until Blanche noticed the empty casket.

"Wait, where's Layyin?" Blanche said.

"She's gone," Ashley said, choking on the words. "She died trying to save us from the evil Marveloni. And now we'll never see her again."

"She died? Oh, my God. No!" Fat tears rolled down Blanche's rosy cheeks.

Derek gathered Blanche, Ashley, Sadira, Tressa, and Kai in his arms, then backed away. "Spider's eyes, Ashley! What happened to your gown? You got blood all over me."

"Sorry."

"Never mind. I hate this stupid purple outfit anyway."

They returned to the huddle and cried.

After a few minutes, Tressa stepped away and cleared her throat. "Hey, guys?"

"Tressa, can't you see we're still having a moment?" Derek grumbled.

"Yes, but ..."

"What's going on here?" Tressa said from behind Ashley. Her voice sounded strange, though. Softer and less angry than usual.

"We're crying about poor Layyin. Just give us a moment to mourn. We literally just lost her," Derek said.

"So, you liked Layyin?"

"Liked her? Have you lost your mind?" Derek said. "We loved Layyin. She was the bee's knees. The cat's pajamas. The dog's bollocks. The bomb! I mean, yeah, she could be super annoying at times with all her leaping and flying around. But that's also why we loved her. Ouch! Tressa! Why'd you hit me like that?"

"Tressa? I'm not Tressa."

The group hug ended, and standing before them, with all her bones and flesh in the right places, was none other than Princess Layyin.

"But this is impossible!"

"Evidently not, since I'm here."

"But, you jumped over a mountain."

"Onto Deathgiver's back. I can't believe how easy it was. I may have to join a circus for a while before opening the home for underprivileged children. Or maybe we combine the ideas? Anyway, the jump was truly awesome. Right, Deathy? Deathy, where are you?" She shielded her eyes from the sun and searched the sky.

"Deathy? You mean Deathgiver the Fearsome?" Ashley said. "We were told he was made into a cloak."

"That's horrible. Ew. No. And I call him Deathy because we're good pals," Layyin said.

Ashley wrinkled her brow. "You speak dragon now?"

"Not really. We just get on, you know? We understand one another on a level much deeper than mere conversation."

Ashley shook her head.

"But where is he? How did you get here?" Kai said.

"Magic. Of course. Mostly we used Derek as a beacon. Since he was imprinted on by Derek Junior, Deathgiver was able to find him using paternal navigation or whatever. So let's load up and get out of here. We have a prince to kill." She whistled, and Deathgiver dove toward them from behind a cloud.

"Oh, yes," Kai said, rubbing her hands together. "I still think we should do the drowning."

"My vote's still on the boiling in oil," Tressa said.

"Not the poison," Sadira said. "Forget my stupid suggestion. Too easy and not enough pain."

Derek patted Sadira on the back. "Way to go, girl!"

Ashley held up a hand. "We are totally going to ruin his life. Expose him as a fraud to the seven kingdoms. Take away his glamor. He'll be a shriveled old man. Isn't that enough punishment?" Ashley argued. "Wouldn't it be worse if he had to live the rest of his life like that than to just die?"

"Perhaps," Sadira said. "But you know what they say?"

"What do they say?"

"Prince Charming Must Die."

"That's just a title. It might not have been meant literally," Ashley argued.

"If the title fits," Sadira said.

"Props!" Derek said, slapping Sadira's hand in the first high-five ever executed in human history. "I thought you were supposed to be the nice one."

"I am," Sadira said. "But even I can have a few dark moments. I'm only human."

Tressa clapped her hands. "Then let's get to the Interkingdom Games and kick some royal ass."

"And then Prince Charming must die?" Sadira said.

"Sure. Fine. Whatever. Then Prince Charming must die," Ashley agreed.

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