Wicked Wonderland Page 13

  But her head was still high, her jaw still set with determination despite her pallor. She’d stayed. I could have led her to an easy escape, to the comforts of home, but she’d stayed to hear what had befallen ours—and how she might help.

  Underneath the soft, hesitant exterior, this girl—this woman—had a core of steel. It made me like her even more.

  “So, anything you do to push back, by the next day it’s like it never happened, except what people remember,” Lyssa said. “That… would make a rebellion difficult.”

  “Especially when fewer and fewer people are willing to become involved,” the White Knight said. His gaze slid to Hatter for a second before returning to Lyssa. “The Queen hasn’t taken much comfort in the security she claimed for herself. Her reaction to any sign of dissention has become ever more brutal as the years go by.”

  “She takes every excuse she can to turn up the heat,” I said. “When her youngest son died years ago, several heads rolled for that, even though the Spades had nothing to do with it, and she’s been absolutely vicious since then.”

  The White Knight grimaced at the truth of those words.

  “The Spades?” Lyssa repeated.

  “That’s how we refer to our group of rebels,” I said with a swivel of my finger. “Only a Spade will know you mean the Inventor if you mention the White Knight.”

  Her eyes widened. “Mirabel mentioned—was my grand-aunt involved in your rebellion? You acted like you didn’t know what she meant.” Her accusation shifted from the White Knight to Hatter.

  “You were our guest,” the White Knight said smoothly. “To tell you when you didn’t need to know, when you couldn’t be prepared, would put you at risk. I never met your grand-aunt. I’m not sure of the extent of her involvement.”

  “She associated with the Spades a little,” Hatter put in with obvious reluctance. “Nothing particularly noteworthy. That was before the Queen captured Time. Things were different.”

  Lyssa dragged in a breath. She appeared to retreat inside herself, but only for a minute. “What are you going to do? Do you have a plan?”

  The White Knight rested his elbows on the table. “We know what we need to do. We need to free Time from the Queen’s grasp, so Wonderland can move forward again. All change will stem from that moment. But she has it caged in a pocket watch kept secure and guarded inside the palace. Reaching it has been the sticking point. Until, perhaps, now.”

  The intentness of his focus on her made my skin itch. I bit my tongue against remarks that wanted to slip out. The White Knight had always led us well—had been there for me when I’d had nothing.

  I might like Lyssa, might feel uneasy about the situation we were placing her in, but I could very well owe him my life.

  “You said in the club that I might be able to help,” Lyssa said.

  The White Knight nodded. “After your first visit here, we observed that you seem to carry a certain amount of Time with you from the Otherland. It rubs off on items you touch. The cup you drank from at this table four days ago didn’t return to the cupboard overnight. We can’t be sure how far that power will extend, but it could make all the difference to our cause. If you’ll come by the Tower tomorrow morning, I can show you what I’m thinking. For now… You look as if you’ve had enough laid on your shoulders for one night. I apologize for the burden.”

  He pushed the chair back and stood up. Lyssa peered up at him—looking rather dazed, I had to agree. Dazed and exhausted.

  “All right,” she said, and stifled a yawn. “But I’m sure I’ll have lots more questions when I can think straight again.”

  The White Knight gave her a wry smile. “I look forward to answering them as well as I can. Get your rest.”

  “We need to be careful with this,” Hatter said. “The Caterpillar at the club tonight, and the Queen’s guards— If they form any suspicion and pass it on to the Queen— They might have already.” His jaw worked. He glanced at me. “Chess, you could… you could slip in and overhear…”

  My shoulders stiffened. He trailed off completely at the grin I gave him, deliberately baring my sharpest teeth. “My ability to slip sight does not include slipping through walls,” I said with deliberate firmness. “Where the doors are locked, I still can’t go.”

  That wasn’t what he’d been thinking of, and we both knew it. But he’d sworn to me to hold his tongue about that one thing—the White Knight didn’t know, and I’d rather keep it that way, in regards to both him and everyone else in this room. It was the one piece of myself I still owned. The one piece no one was going to use, not again.

  Hatter’s mouth twisted in apology. “Never mind. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  I let my grin relax to show his contrition was acceptable. “The Caterpillar saw a Dreamer,” I said, to set his mind more at ease. “The guards were occupied with their beating. No one even knows her name except for us.”

  Lyssa’s attention snapped to me. “Should I not tell anyone else my name? Why would that matter?”

  That was an entirely different rabbit hole. “It’s just best if the bastards have as little as possible to work with, I’d think.” I slid off the stool.

  The White Knight nodded. “I’ve been tracking talk around the palace,” he said. “If there’s any reason for concern, I’ll know.” He paused, and let his knuckles brush over Lyssa’s hair, so lightly the strands barely moved. “You’re in good hands. And the moment you decide you need to make your way home, temporarily or for good, all you have to do is say so.”

  Hatter made a faintly scoffing sound. Lyssa just gazed at the White Knight. Her expression, still dazed but with a hint of what looked like longing, made the niggling in my chest coil tighter.

  Outside, he and I headed down the street together. It didn’t much matter where I went in this last hour or so before midnight reset all our clocks. I might slink back around the club, just to taste the atmosphere. But first I wanted confirmation.

  When Hatter’s shop disappeared around a corner behind us, I pitched my voice low. “What did you offer Sealina to offset that beating?”

  Credit given where credit was due: The White Knight didn’t flinch or stare, or give so much as a twitch to suggest he was surprised by the question. Cool as a cucumber on ice. “Offer her?” he repeated smoothly.

  “You planned that scene in the club,” I said. I’d never seen the White Knight venture onto the premises without a specific purpose beyond enjoyment. “You set up all the pieces in a neat line and, oh, there they topple! You wanted Lyssa to see the other side of Wonderland.”

  He gave me a barely perceptible shrug. “I wanted what’s best for Wonderland. She couldn’t make a real decision without knowing. And wouldn’t you say that simply hearing tell isn’t enough to know?”

  I would. His admission didn’t sit entirely comfortably with me all the same. “So, how did you convince Sealina to go through with it?”

  The White Knight turned his deep brown gaze on me. At times, it could look fathomless. This time, for example.

  “I didn’t offer her anything,” he said simply. “She volunteered, because she wished to contribute to the cause. I guided her to ensure it wasn’t a crime so great they’d take her head for it. She’ll be well enough once they’re finished with her. We all want what’s best for Wonderland—to see its people freed, finally. Don’t you?”

  Damn him, he managed to work a note of concern into his voice even as he evaluated me. Concern for me, that I might be losing hope. He sounded as if he meant that concern honestly. Which sent a spike of guilt through me for nagging him on this subject at all.

  “Of course,” I said. “If you require my services again, you know you can call on me.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lyssa

  The dark history the guys had shared with me filtered into my dreams, merging with images from my walk with Hatter. Heads bounced across a dance floor soaked with blood that flipped me upside down and cracked the sky. A pack of playi
ng cards with razor-sharp edges blasted at me with a burbling moan, hearts and spades tearing into each other. I kept waking up to the dark room and a frantic pulse.

  Eventually, the dreams faded to give me a little peace, and I slept for a while. I finally raised my head groggily from the pillow to bright sunlight trickling past the mauve curtain. It had to be at least mid-morning.

  I sat up on the feathery-soft mattress and stiffened to keep from swaying with momentary dizziness. My gaze fell on a little silver tray on the nightstand—a tray that hadn’t been there last night. Two familiar-looking scones sat on it next to a teacup with its saucer set on top to hold in the heat. The porcelain was still warm against my fingers as I picked it up.

  Hatter had put in exactly the right amount of cream and sugar. And he’d left the scones I’d adored yesterday. I slid to the edge of the bed to eat the first one, reveling in the pine-y fruity taste, as if all of Christmas had been squeezed into a pastry the size of my palm. I didn’t care that it felt like spring around here. In scone form, I’d take Christmas all year round.

  I hadn’t realized that Hatter had tracked my tastes that closely. I wouldn’t have thought he’d go out of his way to cater to them. Leaving this meal here so I could fortify myself before I had to face the rest of Wonderland again… It was sweet of him.

  I took another bite of the tangy sweet pastry and smiled. I guessed he didn’t see me as a total hassle after all.

  After I’d finished my breakfast, I carried the tray down to the living area with me. There was no sign of Hatter or Doria other than a few dishes they’d left on the table. I guessed they weren’t breaking that habit any time soon. Since it niggled at me more to have them there rather than not, I took a couple minutes to wash them. Then I ventured down to the shop.

  The display room was empty, but a tapping sound carried from a doorway beyond the stairs. I slipped past them to peer into the back room.

  Hatter was standing at a table laid with felt and buttons and ribbons, twisting an elaborate bow at one side of a hat beneath a billowy feather. His deft fingers tweaked and secured each loop in a rapid dance. Something about the movement sent a tingle through me.

  I took another step forward, and he glanced up. His hat—a bowler today, forest-green like his suit—had tipped low on his head. He fastened the ribbon with a swift press and nudged the brim of the bowler higher on his head, considering me with an oddly wary gaze. Maybe he just wasn’t sure how I’d processed everything I’d heard last night.

  “You still make hats, even though they’ll only last until the end of the day?” I said.

  “Wonderlanders still crave the occasional novelty,” he said. “They give me their requests one day and pick them up the next.”

  “Oh. That makes sense.” Why had I started with that opening? I tried again.

  “Thank you for breakfast,” I said, not knowing how to express my deeper gratitude for the consideration it showed without embarrassing myself or him, or both of us. I didn’t even know how big of a gesture it was in this place with its standards, which were even more warped compared to my world back home than I’d believed at first.

  “You enjoyed it?” he said with a slight twitch of his lips toward a smile. A real one, the kind that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. I had to drag my gaze away before I just stood there staring at him, waiting for the smile to grow.

  “Very much.” I picked up a half-finished hat from a shelf to the side, just to have something to do. “Keep a stash of those scones around, and I’ll have no complaints about anything.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Then he paused, his head shifting just a bit, as if he’d meant to look at me and thought better of it. “How long are you planning on staying?”

  His tone was careful, but I didn’t get the impression it was a hint that he was trying to kick me out.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I should get going to see Theo and find out what his whole plan is that he thinks I can help with. From the way things worked the last time I came, I think I can stay at least a few more days before anyone starts to worry.”

  Melody had given me twenty-four hours before she went into panic mode about my supposed date. I didn’t think a full day here would be more than a couple hours back home. If Theo’s idea was going to require longer than felt safe, I should be able to slip back through the club’s mirror to avert disaster there before popping back here, right?

  The memory of Caterpillar looming over me with his segmented body and bulbous head made my skin crawl. I’d wondered before what would happen to me if his guards caught me sneaking to the mirror. Other memories from last night—the Queen of Hearts’ guards, the stories Theo and Chess had told me—rose up with a lurch of my stomach.

  Would Caterpillar have them beat me until I bled? Chop my head right off?

  “You’re leaving now?” Hatter moved to join me with a swish of his jacket and then hesitated again. “Would you want me to accompany you?”

  “I think I can find my way to the Tower by now,” I said. “It is the tallest building in the city. Unless… I should be worried about walking around here alone?” Nothing had gone wrong during my walk from the pond to Hatter’s shop two days ago, but that might have been luck. I had to look back on everything I’d thought I’d known about Wonderland from a different perspective now.

  Hatter was shaking his head. “The Queen’s guards don’t come into the city often unless they have someone specific they’re looking for,” he said. “And there’s no reason they’d bother you.”

  “Just don’t run around shouting out, ‘Down with the Queen! Hurray for the Spades!’?” I suggested.

  This time his mouth twitched downward. “You shouldn’t even joke about that.”

  His voice came out so rough that guilt jabbed my stomach, even though I wasn’t totally sure what I had to feel guilty about. “Right,” I said. “Sorry. It’s just a lot to wrap my head around. But I would like to keep my head, attached to my neck, and I say that with all seriousness.”

  “Good,” Hatter said. “You know, whatever the White Knight is plotting, you don’t have to get involved.”

  My throat tightened. I set down the hat. “Do you still think I should have gone home?”

  It took him a moment to answer, his hand bracing against the tabletop. “I think you’d be safer there. This mess we’re in is complicated, and you can’t have been prepared to dive in. All I’m saying is you should be honest about what you can do and what’s too much. It’ll be better for us and for you. You don’t have to jump just because he tells you to.”

  Did he think I’d never had to make the best I could out of shit? A flash of emotion from long ago, desperate and determined, darted through me. I raised my chin. “I have a pretty good idea of my limitations.”

  Then something clicked in my head, connecting this conversation to the one last night with his muttered interjections. Maybe his reluctance wasn’t just about me. Maybe Hatter’s offer of company hadn’t been to shield me on the streets but at my destination.

  “You don’t totally trust them, do you?” I added. “The Spades, I mean.” Or just Theo? But Hatter was the one who’d sent me to Theo in the first place.

  His wary expression came back. “I trust their ends,” he said. “The means… Different people draw the line between acceptable risk and way too fucking risky in different places. And sometimes even our own lines get blurry when the goal seems to be in reach. Just be careful.”

  “I don’t think you have to worry about that with me,” I said, remembering Melody’s ribbing.

  A shade of a smile crossed Hatter’s face. It warmed me almost as much as Chess’s grin could. “Maybe not,” he said.

  I left before I could manage to annoy him all over again. As I ducked out of the hat shop, a faint pattering sounded overhead. Doria scrambled from an outcropping of roof to a window ledge and hopped onto the ground. The fact that she’d managed her climb in one of those billowy goth
ic dresses made the maneuver even more impressive.

  She tucked her dark hair behind her ears and trotted over to join me. “You’re going to the Tower, right?” she said, a little breathless.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Are you supposed to be?”

  She shrugged with a sly little smile. “I’m not a kid anymore. I’ve done a heck of a lot more than he knows. If I went by what Pops says, I wouldn’t get to do anything.”

  I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of aiding and abetting Hatter’s daughter in her personal rebellion, but she wasn’t exactly a kid, and it sounded like she’d go off to see Theo and his people one way or another no matter what I did. I wasn’t so much aiding as observing the inevitable.

  “You’ve been helping out the Spades?” I murmured. No one was walking near us, but after Hatter’s warnings, I wasn’t taking any risks about being overheard.

  “I am a Spade,” Doria said, quiet but fierce. “And I’m good at it. I don’t go to the club to dance, you know. I listen to all the talk. I ask people questions no one would ask—or answer—if they were sober. I find things out.”

  I had the feeling between that enterprise and dancing, Hatter would have preferred she went to dance.

  “Does it happen a lot—what happened last night?” I couldn’t help asking. “The guards and… everything.”

  Doria bit her lip, which maybe was enough of an answer. “I won’t get caught,” she said. “I’m smart about it. It’s not as if Dad never—” She cut herself off. “Whatever. It’s my life, and I’d like to be able to have one where things don’t just reset back to how they were no matter what I do.”

  “I can understand that.” It was hard for me to even imagine living that way—for years and years. For Doria’s whole life, I guessed. How long had the Queen of Hearts held Wonderland in her grip this tightly? Hatter had said Aunt Alicia had come before then, but that only meant it couldn’t have been more than fifty years. Even five sounded like enough to drive a person mad.