around her waist, then pulling a pan of fragrant cookies out from
the stove. “Utterly ridiculous. He’s very sympathetic. He brought
this one to me so I could keep him in cushions to prevent further
cracking, in case the glue doesn’t stick. We can’t have Humphrey’s
spirit leaking out to wreak havoc in Wonderland’s commons.”
Wonderland
and
common
. . . two words that should never be in
the same sentence.
“So, Humphrey’s here because he’s partly dead,” I say after finishing the rest of the apple. “Partly dead like Chessie.”
“Yes.” Sister One scrapes the cookies onto a plate. “In fact, Grenadine herself brought Chessie’s head here. Many years ago, when
her stepsister, Red, was on her bloody rampage. But she’s no doubt
forgotten by now that he’s here.”
Wait. Morpheus made it sound as if Chessie came to this place on
his own . . . found solace here. He never mentioned that Grenadine
tried to help keep the cat alive. I dab my mouth with my napkin.
“Partly dead . . .” I mumble, mind whirling in confusion. “What business is it of yours how much dead I am?” In a fit
of temper, Humphrey slams his spoon to the cushioned floor. The
utensil bounces back like a boomerang and thumps his side. Following a crackling sound, the fissures in his shell branch out to form
new ones. Slimy, clear liquid drizzles from the fissures. His cheeks
turn a deep pink and he glowers at me. The slime starts to sizzle and
harden to cooked egg whites.
“You’re hard-boiling your innards again,” Sister One scolds. “Now you’ve gone and done it!” Humphrey aims the accusation
at me. “What glory is there to be had in bettering an egg, hmm?
Will you make of me a soufflé or perhaps have me coddled?” “Coddled?” I ask, confused. “You mean like a parent coddles a
child?”
He wriggles in the chair until his short legs almost dangle over
the edge, causing the new cracks to stretch farther yet. “Coddled
in water, you speck. Cooked just below boiling until my brains are
scrambled. What sort of empty-headed rot are you? Do you not
have a proper vocabulary? And why are you even here? Don’t see any
cracks in your shell.”
Sister One clucks her tongue again and reaches into her apron
pocket, proffering a tube of glue. “You should be gracious to her.
She’s the
One
.” She gestures her chin toward me as she helps him
apply the adhesive. “She woke the dead.”
He stares, wide mouth gaping almost to the floor.
I can’t stop the blush rising through my face. “Morpheus said
that the king is bad. That he wants the crowns to both kingdoms for
his wife, Grenadine, and will do anything to get them.” “Ha!” Humphrey says. “As seen through the eyes of a murderer.” “A murderer?”
“There’s no proof of that,” Sister One says, patting down Humphrey’s shell to adhere it to the glue. “Morpheus carried Red’s
corpse to me many years after her banishment. But he shared nothing about the circumstances surrounding her demise, or where he
found her. I’m not surprised he’s lashing out at Grenadine and her
king. He’s always held a grudge about what happened to Alice after
Grenadine hid her. The queen’s intentions were good, to keep the
child safe until they could capture Red. But after Red was banished
to the wilds, Grenadine lost the ribbon into which she’d whispered
Alice’s whereabouts and so forgot where she’d put her. Alice became
a cautionary tale told to netherling children as they were tucked into
bed. The real child was forgotten. By all but Morpheus. Seventy-five
years in a cocoon, and he still remembered her upon waking.” “Wait.” I grip the table, fingernails puckering the cushiony top.
“None of this makes sense. Alice went back into her world.
My
world. She had to . . .”
“Oh, no. She was here. Upon his metamorphosis, Morpheus left
no sandbar unturned in his search for her. He found her hidden
away in the caves of the highest cliffs of Wonderland. She’d been
captured and kept in a cage by a reclusive old bird, Mr. Dodo. But
Morpheus’s precious friend was no longer a child. She was a sad,
confused, old woman by that time.”
Panic chokes back any response. If Alice really did spend her
life in a birdcage here, how am I alive? How are any of the Liddell
descendants alive?
Scuttling to the stove, Sister One produces water out of thin air
from a spoutless sink and fills a kettle. “Would one of you be so kind
as to move the red queen to the next square on the game board?” Humphrey minds the request, pink cheeks ballooned in concentration. “One more left to go,” he whispers, thumping the last
remaining silver square with his clawlike hand.
The game board has sixty-four squares, half of them red and
half silver, with pawns, bishops, and rooks in positions that make no
sense for real chess. Their arrangement reminds me of the board in
Morpheus’s room.
Out of the thirty-two silver squares, a diagonal line of seven glow
like burnished metal—the one on which Humphrey centered the
red queen, along with six others that lead up to it. On each glowing
square, a script appears in floating, curvy letters—again, just like on
Morpheus’s chessboard.
This time, nothing stops me from reading them:
Burst through Stone with a Feather; Cross a Forest in One Step; Hold
an Ocean in Her Palm; Alter the Future with Her Fingertip; Defeat an
Invisible Enemy; Trample an Army beneath Her Feet; Wake the Dead.
There’s one silver square left in the back row, waiting to be
illuminated. I suspect that until that happens, the final words will
remain hidden. “Do you know what the last one is?”
“Harness the Power of a Smile,” Humphrey answers, surprisingly
cooperative.
“I don’t understand,” I say, feeling weaker by the minute. “Don’t you see?” Sister One carries over a tray with the kettle
and pours three cups of tea. A soothing, lemony fragrance rises on
the steam. “’Tis a record of all you’ve completed. The tests you’ve
passed.”
“‘Tests’?” I look at them again, unable to find a tie to anything
I’ve done, aside from waking the dead.
Then I remember what Morpheus said in his room moments
before I animated the chess pieces:
“It’s all in the interpretation.”
Illumination comes to me, flowing slowly into my mind:
I’m sitting beside Morpheus on the giant mushroom where I found
him after Jeb and I drained the ocean, but I’m a tiny child of four. My
seven-year-old guide positions a picture book in front of me. He’s teaching
me to decipher riddles.
“This,” he says, pointing to a picture of a woman with puffed-out
cheeks. “Something you can hold but cannot keep.” He reads the words
under the picture.
I shouldn’t be able to understand them. I’m a toddler. But it doesn’t
matter. Because each time I visit him in dreams, I feel older somehow.
Wiser. Gifted.
“ You know the answer,” Morpheus says, his young voice scolding.
“ You’re the best of both worlds.”
He takes a deep breath and holds it in his lungs. Lifting my palm to
his mouth, he lets it out slowly, closing my fingers around the warm air.
When I open my hand again, nothing’s there.
“Breath!” I smile and clap.
Morpheus smiles and nods, pride shining in his inky eyes. “ Yes. We can
hold it but always have to set it free.”
Back in the present, understanding blinds me, like a flash of
sunlight across pupils accustomed only to darkness, dilating my
perceptions to perfect clarity:
I’m the best of both worlds . . .
Netherling logic awakened, I see my accomplishments imprinted
on the board next to their summaries, like a checklist:
1.
Burst through Stone with a Feather
—Used a quill to shove the sundial statue aside and open up the rabbit hole.
2.
Cross a Forest in One Step
—Rode on Jeb’s shoulders as he stepped over the flower-garden “forest.”
3.
Hold an Ocean in Her Palm
—Balanced the sponge in my hand after it had absorbed Alice’s tears.
4.
Alter the Future with Her Fingertip
—Jump-started the tea party crew’s futures by drying and resetting the pocket watch’s hands.
5.
Defeat an Invisible Enemy
—Faced my darker side and suppressed it with the help of Tumtum Tree berries.
6.
Trample an Army beneath Her Feet
—Rode across the card guards on a wave of clams.
7.
Wake the Dead
—No explanation necessary . . .
My dark side is thrilled at what I’ve accomplished, and pride swells my chest.
Then my other side takes the lead. “No,” I say aloud to myself. “Not
my
accomplishments. Morpheus’s.” Dread winds itself around my heart, deflating me.
Jeb was right all along. The things I’ve been doing weren’t to fix my great-great-great-grandmother’s messes. They were elaborate tests. Why didn’t I listen to him?
“What am I being tested for?” I take my teacup and hold it in trembling palms, willing the heat to seep inside me and stave off the chill in my heart.
Humphrey meets Sister One’s gaze as she hands him a cookie dusted with cinnamon and sugar.
“That list represents the criteria for a queen,” she answers. “The requirements were written after Grenadine took the throne. King Red heard rumors that his former wife had escaped Wonderland’s wilds and remarried. Fearing the possibility of female offspring, he insisted that if anyone was to ever step forward as Red’s lineage and try to take the crown from Grenadine, she would first have to pass eight impossible tests to prove her worth. The Red Court agreed to make the tests a royal decree. You are the first to ever pass them . . . well, almost all of them. Of course, you are the first of Queen Red’s offspring to come forward and try.”
I’m about to object, to say that it’s impossible because I’m not of royal lineage. I’m about to stand on my chair and stomp like a two-year-old, to refuse to believe that any of this is real . . .
Until Morpheus’s lullabies trickle through my mind, complete at last:
“Little blossom in white and red, resting now your tiny head; grow and thrive, be strong and keen, for you will one day
be their queen
. . . Little blossom in peach and gray, grew up strong and found your way; two things more yet to be seen, until at last you’ll
be their queen
.”
Shivers run like icy drizzle through my wings. “No, no, no. I’m not—I didn’t actually pass anything,” I say to my hostess. “I stumbled into accomplishing each one . . . by accident, really.”
She and Humphrey have no comment. They’re too busy counting squares and sipping their brew.
They know, just like me, that nothing I did was by accident. Morpheus orchestrated all of it—set up familiar Wonderland scenarios by using Lewis Carroll’s book and soliciting the help of other netherling natives, then stood back and watched as I completed each “test.”
At the tea party he said he wanted to return me to my proper place, my home. Which realm does he consider home for me? Gritty discomfort fills my throat, as if I’ve swallowed the entire desert. I gulp down half my tea.
Jeb . . .
I need him to put his arms around me and promise it will be okay; I need him to make me feel human again.
“I want to use the looking glass to find my boyfriend.” I stand so fast, one of my wings hits the table and tips the kettle of tea.
Humphrey pats the spill with his napkin before the steaming puddle can reach his lap. “I was right! You do mean to coddle me!”
Sister One leads me to the tall pantry and opens the left door, revealing a looking glass. “Your mortal escort is already where you’re going. My pixies were in the chasm gathering Grenadine’s dead army when they saw your mortal leave in chains with Morpheus and the elfin knights. Thanks to your help defeating the card guards, the White army successfully raided and took control of the Red castle tonight in search of their Ivory Queen.”
The beat in my chest almost comes to a halt. “Morpheus has Jeb imprisoned at the Red castle?”
She pats my hand without answering. “You’ll need this.” From one of the pantry shelves, she pulls down a tattered teddy bear. She doesn’t have to explain. I already know it holds the part of Chessie that will somehow be my final test—his smile—although I’ve no idea how I’m supposed to harness it.
“Remind Morpheus that my end of the bargain is met,” Sister One says as she waves her hand across the looking glass. It crackles like ice, revealing a chamber in a castle with lush red carpets and curtains of gold. There’s a canopied bed and a fireplace; a tall Victorian parlor chair, with its back to me, faces the hearth. A silver fedora trimmed in red moths hangs from one arm of the chair. Smoke rises into the air and a gloved hand stretches into view, a hookah’s hose perched elegantly between two fingers.
Morpheus
.
If I refuse to bring the teddy bear, does that mean I level his plan to dust? And Jeb—how will we get home? I bite my lip and tuck the toy beneath my left arm, snug against my rib cage.
Sister One draws out a tiny key and turns it so the surface opens to the portal. Her eight feet tap impatiently.
Everyone in this place has an agenda. In exchange for her precious spirits, she’s delivering me straight to the one who’s manipulated and used me this entire journey.
My entire life.
Tears blind my vision as I step through the glass.
If only I hadn’t stepped through the first portal; if only I hadn’t found the rabbit hole.
If only I’d never been born.
I land in the Red castle, a few feet behind the chair I saw in the portal. My heels sink silently into the spongy carpet and Morpheus doesn’t even stir, still puffing in front of the fire. The scent of his licorice tobacco lights a flame inside me . . . a burning need to trump him in this warped game.
I ask, facing the chair’s back.
“No.” Morpheus’s answer comes from behind me and I spin,
almost falling. His wings sweep over him like an eclipse as he bends
to steady me.
I shove him away.
Arching an eyebrow, he smooths his silver and black pin-striped
suit. Between the suit and the punkish hair, he looks like an emo
gangster.
“You were waiting for me to come through the portal?” I accuse.
“Then who’s—” No need to finish. Rabid White tumbles over the
chair’s arm into view, pink eyes aglow. Of course. He’s in league with
Morpheus, which means he’s only been pretending to be my enemy.
They’ve both been playing me all along.
The cadaverous creature lays the hookah hose aside and bows to
me. “At your service be I, fair queen.” His high-pitched voice drips
sincerity.
I exhale to steady my wobbly insides. “I’m not the queen. And I
don’t want your service.” I turn back to Morpheus.
“I believe you’re being dismissed, Sir Rabid.” Morpheus keeps his
fathomless gaze on me. “No doubt she’ll call upon you soon enough,
just as Grenadine once did. When she’s officially queen, she shall
covet your talents as an experienced and devoted advisor.” “Highness. Loyally and always, ever yours.” Rabid bows so low
on his way out that his antlers set him off balance and he almost
topples. He catches himself, then hops across the threshold, a rattling bag of bones in a waistcoat.
The door latches shut and I’m alone with Morpheus in a room of
shadows and flashing firelight.
“Your spy,” I say.
“Yes,” Morpheus answers. “It never set well with him what
Grenadine and the Red Court did to Red and Alice. He wants to
see Red’s heir upon the throne almost as much as I do, to amend the
injustice done to his true queen.”
The play of the firelight across Morpheus’s wild hair and otherworldly beautiful face spins me back into my memories. He was training me to be a queen. The Red Queen. And now I stand here, vulnerable, imprisoned by feelings he inspired in my youthful dreams: happiness and comfort, affection and admiration. But nostalgia is deceptive, and I shove it aside. Because everything has
been a lie.
“What have you done to Jeb?” I ask, suppressing the urge to
lunge at him and attack.
Morpheus’s lips twitch a half smile. “He is here in the palace,
safe. I’ll allow you to see him soon. He wanted me to give you this.”
Fishing his gloved fingers into his jacket pocket, he draws a small
crystallized bead between us so it reflects the firelight.
My wish.
I thrust my hand out for it. I won’t hesitate this time.
I’ll wish I never came at all, just like Jeb suggested . . . then we’ll both
finally be safe again.
Morpheus jerks back, holding it high. “It will stay in my keeping
until the time is right.” He tosses the bead into the air, then catches
it with a deft twist of the wrist before tucking it back into his breast
pocket.
Fury surges through me. I bide my time. I have to play this smart
or I’ll lose everything.
“Have a seat, Alyssa, princess mine.” Morpheus gestures to the bed. “If I sit anywhere, it won’t be on the bed.” I hug the teddy bear—
my one bargaining chip.
“Surely you don’t think I mean to seduce you? Wouldn’t I have
already taken advantage of your innocence at my manor, whilst I was
watching you sleep?”
The reminder of that intimate moment, when his birthmark touched mine, sparks uncomfortable heat in my abdomen. “This entire quest has been a seduction, Morpheus. It’s time to come
clean.”
He lifts the end of his red necktie and scrutinizes it, then scrubs
at an invisible smudge. “There’s nothing clean about betrayal, luv.
And that’s where the story begins, as you well know. Queen Red’s
court mutinied against her, her own husband joined the traitors
in order to marry her stepsister, and it upended the balance of the
realm. But you will restore the equilibrium.” He tucks the necktie
back into place.
“Because I’m her heir,” I murmur, nearly choking on the words. The proud smile on his face is luminous. “Figured it out, did
you?”
I suppress the ache in my throat. “It was never about me fixing
things. My family wasn’t cursed by Alice’s messes. We’re not cursed
at all. We’re half-breeds.”
He splays out his wings and arms. “Isn’t it glorious?” “You brought me here . . . set the scenes to fit the Alice story.
Everything’s been a game. Everyone’s been playing a part. That’s
why most of them were different from the characters in the book.
Everyone helped you . . . they were your accomplices.”
“Yes. Characters playing the parts written for them in a book
from the human realm. Some, anyway. Others played along unwittingly.”
“The octobenus.”
Morpheus nods.“Despicable. Murdered his best friend to appease
a wave of gluttony. He deserved what he got. And the card guards?
They are always expendable. Now, quench my curiosity, little plum.”
He gestures to the chair behind me. “Make yourself comfortable,
and enlighten me on how you came to be a netherling princess.” I refuse to sit. A bitter taste burns my tongue. “A masquerade.” He frowns. “Pardon?”
I twist one of the teddy bear’s ears. Filthy toes rooted into the
carpet for support, I unleash the theory that came to me when I saw
Sister One’s chessboard. “The website. It said some netherlings take
on the appearance of existing mortals. After Queen Red was exiled,
she snuck through the Red castle’s portal into the human realm.” “Pray tell, how did she manage that?” His voice is teasing, meant
to goad me.
“She shares my magic . . . she found a way to distract the card
guards. She coaxed the ribbon off Grenadine’s hand by animating
it—the ribbon that held a reminder of Alice’s whereabouts. Then
Red stepped into the mortal realm as the child. She grew up as
Alice, fell in love with a mortal man as Alice, married and had children as Alice. Half-magical, half-human children, and heirs to her
lost throne. The netherling characteristics only pass to the females,
because Wonderland is ruled by queens.” I’m hugging the bear now,
so tightly I can feel Chessie’s essence clawing for escape . . . begging
to be free. Or maybe it’s my own.
“Tell me more. You hold a captive audience.” Morpheus’s voice
has changed, the teasing edge replaced by something ravenous and
exposed.
I can’t bring myself to watch his enthralled features, so I look
at the fire’s flames instead. “Red came back to Wonderland, a few
months before the real Alice died. Somehow they traded places
again. That’s why the older Alice in the picture had no birthmark,
when the younger one did. That’s why she remembered nothing of
her mortal life. It was stolen from her. She had no childhood, just like you said.” My chest constricts with sadness almost as potent as
when I cried out my wish. “Poor Alice.”
“Yes. Poor, dear little Alice.”
I search his expression. His reverence seems sincere. A pained, poignant tenderness warms his eyes. “I tried to return
her home, in her old age. I thought I was doing right by her, letting
her die among her own. I stole into the Liddell house late one night,
hoping to convince Red it was the right thing to do . . . hoping that
with her family asleep in other rooms, we could make the switch
undetected. Red was compliant, said she was tired of being old and
feeble.” A soft smile lifts one side of his mouth. “I tucked Alice into
the bed where she would awaken among those who should’ve been
her family all along. They were strangers to her, so I tried to prepare
her, but her mind was too far gone to grasp it all. I held her hand
until she nodded off, then left with Red for Wonderland. Upon our
arrival at the rabbit hole’s opening, the wretch changed her mind
and turned on me, refusing to leave her family behind. She intended
to murder Alice, then drag all the Liddells to Wonderland. To use
her lineage to win back the throne she’d lost.”
Morpheus regards the flames, the corners of his mouth tugging down. “I wouldn’t let her go. We fought on the ground beside
the sundial, then on wing in the trees. Red had me pinned to the
uppermost branches of one, meaning to snap my neck. I cast her
off, and she landed hard, impaled by the iron fence just below us.
The metal went straight through her heart and poisoned her blood.
I carried her down into the rabbit hole. I attempted an apology. But
she would not forgive me. And she made sure I could never forgive
myself as she took her last breath.”
“Deathspeak,”
I whisper.