Allison and the Torrid Tea Party: A Dark Reverse Harem Romance (Harem of Hearts Book 2)

‘Who won the game?’ I ask North as we follow the King’s entourage through the palace, trying my hardest not to think about the dead card servant that was just dragged across the lawn outside. If I think too much about what just happened, I’ll get dizzy and this fatigue headache I’ve been nursing will finally win over and knock me on my ass. The Duke’s long, black tail slashes across the checkered floor like a scythe, but the expression in his gold eyes is pure, unadulterated excitement.

And I think that excitement might be for me.

Oops.

I wonder if mating with him really was a good idea? Or maybe his lack of mating was what made him savage in the first place?

“Clearly, the bloody King,” he says, and despite his expression, his words are a bit clipped, gold gaze swinging over to the grand front entrance of Castle Heart. We come to a stop in an area that’s roughly five times the size of my school’s gymnasium—and this, this is apparently the foyer. ‘Although I suspect he’ll wait awhile to collect on his prize.” North flicks his attention back to me and smiles lasciviously. “I doubt he wants to share your first kiss the same day you experienced the most wonderful lovemak—”

‘Ooookay,’ I say, interrupting him before he can get started regaling the others about our tryst in the woods. If the twins really want to know, I’ll tell them later. Right now, I want answers. Well, I would if the Duke’s shirt weren’t unbuttoned, a stretch of bronze chest exposed. I can see all the hard lines of his muscles as he turns toward me and leans in, breath hot against my ear.

‘You’re thinking about something, my dear, and that makes you forget to talk.’ North nibbles the edge of my earlobe, and I slap him away, coming to like I’ve been splashed with cold water. I really need to figure out how to function with hot guys swarming around my hormone-addled body all the time. ‘I dare say you’re wondering why I don’t put my arm around your waist?’

I decide to ignore the Duke and focus on Lar instead. He looks like an intelligent enough man. And those eyes, they’re like soft blue sea glass. They pierce straight through me.

‘Who are the Mocking Turtle and the Gryphon, and why did everyone shit their pants when their names were mentioned?’ I ask, my cheeks warming slightly as Lar smiles at me and reaches out to push a few loose rainbow strands of hair back from my face. I feel like Tee notices my barely-there blush, but that’s not a surprise: Tee notices everything.

“I have an unfortunate inkling that you’ll soon find out for yourself,” Lar says, holding his jacket over one shoulder, his ice-blue shirt unbuttoned just enough that I can see the keys pierced through his nipples. As I watch, he reaches inside his top and unhooks one, passing it over to that blonde woman I saw this morning, the one with the nasty frown who keeps staring at me like she expects me to sprout a second head.

She’s tall, thin, and that sort of dangerous pretty that makes grown men weep. I’m surprised she doesn’t have an entourage of dudes drooling after her. Dressed in a full suit of white armor and carrying a lance, she looks like she could take on a jabberwock. That is, until she trips over a potted plant and lands face-first on the rug in front of the gilded gold doors.

“Take those nonsensical things off and answer the damn door,” the Duke calls out as the woman finds her feet and whips around to glare at him, smacking him in the face with her waist-length hair in the process. At first I’m not sure what the hell he’s talking about, but then I notice the strange metal fins feathering around her feet. Ah, no wonder she tripped. I was too busy being jealous of her boobs to notice her weird shoes.

“These are ankle shields to guard against the bites of sharks—it’s an invention of my own. I don’t see you inventing anything new.” The woman sniffs and lifts her chin haughtily, clutching Lar’s key in one hand, and flicking her lavender eyes over to mine. She stares at me a moment, taking in my state of dress, and then sighs. “You’ll hardly be able to defend against these assholes wearing this.”

I’m still wondering why the hell she thinks she needs to guard against sharks on dry land when she reaches up and flicks two buckles open, one on either shoulder. Her white breastplate comes right off and she moves over to fasten it on me.

“This, it’s an invention of my own,” she tells me as I sag underneath the metal armor. How the fuck am I supposed to stand up while wearing this?! It weighs about a million pounds. “I don’t have a name for it yet, but I will.”

“Do spare my mate the idiocy of your inventions,” the Duke says with a little growl, his gaze focused only on me. It’s like he doesn’t even see the gorgeous blonde standing beside me. And I like that. And I also feel a bit like a misogynistic prick for thinking that way.

‘He might bite,’ Chesh says, appearing out of thin air on my left, still dressed in leather pants and nothing else. “Either you or the Alice, I’m not sure.” North weaves his arm through my right while the Cheshire Cat does the same to my left. “But if he bites you, White Knight, it won’t be for pleasure.”

“My job is to protect the Kingdom of Hearts, and that includes keeping the Alice safe. Stand down and let me do my job.” She turns on her heel and heads back to the throng of guards near the front gate, unlocking the double doors, and gesturing for the card servants to open them with long ropes.

‘I do quite like a little nibble every now and again,’ the Duke growls, tightening his grip on my arm as Tee rolls his eyes and Dee grins. But in the next minute, all their faces fall, Lar’s included, and I glance up to find the King standing there in front of us, arms folded, frowning like a thunderstorm. Rab’s standing just behind and to the right of him, one tattooed hand holding a cigarette, the other swinging a pocket watch around on a gold chain. He smirks at me when he sees me looking, and I flip him off.

‘A fine day, Your Majesty,’ the Duke says, his voice high and threaded through with a growl. He sounds annoyed, but I’m not sure if it’s with the King or with the Mocking Turtle and the Gryphon, whoever the fuck they are. All I know about them is what I read in the original story; they scared the shit out of me in those old Tenniel drawings. Gross. ‘How can we be of service?’

‘They want to meet the Alice,’ the King says, lifting his cell phone and reminding me that they do in fact have phones here. That they never use because their network is ‘compromised’. I guess when you’re talking to the enemy anyway, it doesn’t matter if they’ve tapped the phone lines. I notice Tee and Dee exchange a worried look.

‘They want to rape and kill the Alice,’ Dee growls out, surprising me. He’s generally a jovial person. To see him so angry is disconcerting. I really don’t like it—especially when he reaches out and puts his fingers on my hip, just above the Queenmaker, like he’s reminding me it’s still there. Nobody here seems concerned about giving me a gun in the presence of a king I already hate. I can’t decide if it just means the Castle Heart security is poor, or if the King is such a badass that me having a weapon in my hands doesn’t matter much.

My bet’s on the latter.

‘Tell them no and send them on their way. Better yet, carve their flesh like a holiday ham and mail their corpses back to the Walrus and the Carpenter,’ the Duke says, curling the corner of his lip up in a snarl, curved horns catching the light above us. I’m sure as soon as I have a moment to myself, I’ll start thinking about our wild rut in the woods in graphic detail, probably masturbating to it, too. For now, I sort of need to compartmentalize it.

Did I just hear rape and kill?

‘If I could, I most certainly would,’ the King says, tilting his head to one side. The gold crown he wears catches the light as he narrows his eyes on me. ‘But they’re Recitations, obviously. We could obliterate them, but what good would that do? We may as well get as much information from them as we can.’

‘What’s a Recitation?’ I ask, scrubbing my hands down my face. I don’t even want to speak with the King, particularly after watching him kill the card servant earlier, but I also need to know who—or what—is trying to kill me. I mean, rule one of survival: know your enemies.

‘A Recitation is a copy of a person’s image, with no person waiting behind it.’ Lar pulls—no joke—a glass pipe from the pocket of his white slacks, and lights up. Clearly, he’s not smoking tobacco. Is it too much to hope that there’s a little pot in there? Rab flicks his cigarette butt on the floor, and a card servant promptly cleans it up. The two men each take a drag on the pipe before Rab finishes Lar’s thought.

‘It’s a mirage,” he says, smoothing his hand down one of his ears and smiling at me in a way that I can only describe as half horror movie/half romantic comedy. Looking at his ears makes me think of the March Hare and the Mad Hatter. They disappeared at the mention of the Gryphon and the Mocking Turtle, and I haven’t seen them since. Coincidence, much?

‘A mirage that can spy and report back to the Walrus and the Carpenter.’ A shiver chases down my spine when Tee says those two names. They should be ridiculous—I mean the Mocking Turtle for fuck’s sake—but there’s something eerily ominous about them, and I can’t help but think of the prophecy. Just what do these guys have to do with all the bullshit befalling Underland? When Tee murmurs another stanza under his breath, I get this horrific sense of déjà vu, like I’ve been here, done this all before.

“The eldest angel sneered at them,

And many a word he said:

The stubborn monarch closed his eyes,

And said she won’t be dead—

They had to let the Alice think

Else his Queen would soon bleed red.”

The King lets him finish and then turns to me with his ebon eyes as Dee whistles under his breath.

“You have to admit, Highness, that’s hardly coincidental. Lar?” Dee glances over at the Caterpillar, but all he does is tug on one of his earrings and shrug his shoulders in a noncommittal sort of way before taking his pipe back from Rab.

“I deliver prophecy—I don’t interpret it.” Lar folds his wings together behind his back at the same moment Dee drops his feathered appendages to the floor, and Tee curls his protectively around his shoulders. I notice the King of Hearts keeps his gaze entirely focused on me.

“Well?” he asks, and there’s this challenge in his voice that just gets me. He thinks I’m going to say no. He must, the way he’s quietly smirking at me. But then, he doesn’t know Allison Pleasance Liddell, does he? I never back down from a challenge.

“I want to see them,” I say, feeling the muscles in my lower belly tighten. The King tosses some red hair off his forehead … arrogantly. How one can toss hair arrogantly is beyond me, but he manages to pull it off without looking like a total twat. “Where are they?”

“Come,” the asshole says, turning in a billow of his heavy white and red coat. Without waiting to see if I’ll follow, he moves with long strides across the checkered marble floor, Rab and a female guard flanking either side of him, and soldiers trailing in two lines behind. With both North’s and Chesh’s arms tucked in mine, I move to stand behind him and notice that the large, gilded gold doors have opened up to reveal … two wooden doors that are painted red.

When the King waves his hand, these, too, are opened. And behind door number two? More fucking doors. As the servants continue to open them, I notice that the entrance is getting smaller and smaller. On the ceiling above, there are remnants of all the previous doors in layers, like a fucking cake.

“I don’t suppose that disappearing act of yours is contagious?” I ask the cat as he rubs his cheek against my shoulder. He seems almost above all this hierarchal bullshit. Which, of course, makes complete sense if you know anything at all about cats.

“Perhaps it’s sexually transmitted?” he purrs, flashing me a bit of canine. “Maybe we should test the theory?”

“Don’t be crude,” North drawls, but he’s hardly paying attention to my exchange with his pussycat. No, his gaze is focused on a small set of metal doors no bigger than my front doors back home. They’re silver and inlaid with a massive anatomical heart. It splits in half in a crooked, jagged shape, like a broken heart in a child’s drawing, revealing a long, dark stone walkway … that leads to nowhere.

It protrudes past a cliff’s edge, over a vast valley shadowed by the clouds overhead. For miles, all I can see are trees and mushrooms and the blue snakes of raging rivers. There’s no discernible way for a person to get up here, other than the pair of red doors on a floating island at the end of the path.

Another portal then?

“I’ll be here if you need me,” the White Knight says, moving to stand beside Rab and the King. She taps her chest with a gloved fist, like she’s trying to remind me that I’ve got her breastplate on. I suppose it helps boost my courage a little, although it is heavy as hell.

“And I won’t be,” Lar says, flapping his wings softly. They glow a gentle blue-gold as he gifts me with the briefest of smiles and tugs on one of his earrings again. “Can’t risk stumbling into any visions or prophecies with that lot around. Good luck, Sunshine.” With another flap of his wings and a puff of glitter and dust … the Caterpillar is gone and there’s a butterfly drifting lazily through the air in his place.

Um. The hell did I just witness?!

I blink a few times and then turn to North, but he’s focused on that walkway and whatever’s at the end of it. One glance and I can already tell what’s caught his attention: there are two men waiting just in front of the red doors. My nostrils flare and this … this feeling shoots through me, like a shooting star made of acid, burning its way into the depths of my soul. The Vorpal Blade on my thigh tingles, and the Queenmaker just begs me to wrap my fingers around the grip and fire.

They might look like men, but the creatures I’m staring at are fucking monsters.

Without meaning to, I step outside and then pause on the stone walkway, sliding my arms out of Chesh’s and North’s grips. The Duke immediately curls his tail around my ankle, but I’m too focused to care. The only time in my life I’ve ever felt this way about another person was when I was damn close to being raped. Those boys that attacked me, that subsequently killed my brother, they had the same aura as these men. Now, I’m not sure if I believe in such basic concepts as good and evil, but there are checks and balances in every facet of nature. On one end of the spectrum, there are cuddly kittens and puppies licking faces and batting balls of yarn … on the other end, are these guys.

Pure pond scum.

“What fun!” says the man on the right, the one with a massive pair of eagle wings protruding from his back. They should be pretty, like Tee’s or Dee’s, but instead, they’re scraggly and scarred, casting strange shadows over the man’s beak-like nose and too-full lips. He’s ‘handsome’ enough, I suppose, following the unwritten rules of this world that every dude needs to be attractive, but there’s a slimy quality to him that puts me immediately on edge.

“What is the fun?” I grind out as the King steps aside, his entourage parting like the Red Sea. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks right at me with eyes as dark as a starless night. His lashes are so goddamn long though, sweeping up and framing his expression of disdain with just the right amount of pretty.

“Why, he is,” says the winged guy who I’m guessing must be the Gryphon. He nods his pointed chin in the direction of the King of Hearts. “It’s all his fancy that: he never executes nobody worth executing, you know. Come on, have a stroll down here so we can have a look at you.”

“Everybody says ‘come on’ here,” I growl as I plant my feet firmly on the walkway and mimic the King’s pose, crossing my arms under my breasts and lifting my chin in defiance. No way in hell I’m taking a single step closer to these men. “I never was so ordered about before in all my fucking life.” Scowling, I spit and try not to look too closely at the other man. If the Gryphon scares the piss outta me, the Mocking Turtle is what makes up his personal nightmares. “Never. And I’m not about to start obeying orders now.”

The Gryphon smirks, running his hand over his slicked-back brunette hair. It reminds me of John Travolta in Grease, just … way less attractive. Disturbing, really. It’s hard to explain, but it’s the very mundane blandness of this man that’s scaring me. He’s so unremarkable as to be remarkable, like a sterile white waiting room in a hospital with squeaky clean floors and the scent of iodine. Only, beneath it all, you can still smell the blood.

“Don’t let them pull you in,” Tee whispers from behind me, his calm, inner strength seeping into me when he puts a firm hand on one of my shoulders. “Don’t let them get to you; that’s what they’re here to do.”

“I can see why the guy on the right is called the Gryphon, but where did the name Mocking Turtle come from?” I whisper as Dee rests his chin on my right shoulder. The twins’ clean mountain air scent wraps around me like a shield, calming my frantic heartbeat just a tad.

“Legend goes that he can bring any person to tears with a single word, and send them to the grave with a short story. He quite literally mocks his enemies to death.” I’d laugh at Dee’s words if I wasn’t already starting to wonder if they were true. Turtle-Dick hasn’t said a word yet, and I’ve already got the chills. Click, click, click go his fingernails as he clacks the pointed black tips together.

“And the Turtle part?” I breathe, just before I finally catch sight of his face and see the hooked shape of his upper lip. He smacks his jaws at me with a disturbing amount of force, and I notice that he hasn’t got any damn teeth.

“Legend goes,” Dee starts again, standing back up and putting his palm on my lower back for comfort, “that he bites like a snapping turtle.”

“Oh? Is that all? Fantastic,” I grind out as the two men start forward in disturbingly perfect unison, pausing only when Rab moves to cut them off. But they’re close enough that I can smell them. There’s the sharp, bitter scent of fresh soap with the underlying choke of rot, like roadkill left in the hot, hot sun. It makes me gag, which of course only makes them both smile.

When the Gryphon smiles, doves cry. When the Mocking Turtle smiles … angels die.

He looks at me with large eyes, as dark as the King’s but without a hint of soul in them. There’s just nothing there, like an endless void that leads to nowhere. Just staring into them makes me sick to my stomach, like I’m falling down that Rabbit-Hole all over again, only I’ll never find a place to land. I step forward and put one of my hands on Rab’s tattooed muscular forearm, remembering the feel of him catching me when I fell. Maybe, metaphorically, he’s doing the same thing now? When he glances down at me and I see that ironclad calm, I know I’m in good hands. I guess I might forgive him for shooting Brandon. Maybe.

“This here young lady,” says the Gryphon, glancing over at his bald-headed companion, “she wants to know your bloody history, I believe.”

“I’ll tell it to her,” the Mocking Turtle replies in a deep, hollow tone, “so long as she doesn’t speak a word till I’ve finished.” He licks his gross lips with a thick, slimy tongue. “Frederick.”

“Fuck you,” I growl out, putting my hand on the Queenmaker. I saw what it did to the jubjub bird. I bet it could blow these men to bacon bits. How dare he bring up my brother’s name. Even bigger question: how did he know it in the first place?!

“They’re not really here,” North says, squeezing my ankle even tighter with his muscular tail. I thought I hated the feel of it on me before, but now I think I’m starting to like it. That’s what a surge of sex hormones will do to a person, I guess. “They’re Recitations, just ghosts of their true selves.”

“Well, I’d still like to blow them to queendom come,” I say, whipping the pistol off my belt and using a flick of my right arm to open the chamber. With my left hand, I open one of the leather pouches on my belt and remove a fuse, metal ball, and a couple of fresh matches. One of these I strike, just so I can see it burn, smell the scent of sulfur. The other, I tuck behind my ear before I load the weapon and snap it closed. ‘I don’t care about your bullshit; I just want to know what you’re after.’

‘Hold your tongue,’ snarls the Gryphon, before I can finish telling him to fuck off. ‘Clearly you’ve missed a few classes at finishing school. When a person talks, it’s only polite to listen. Can’t you see he has a story to tell?’

‘Now where was I?” the Mocking Turtle asks, glancing over at his companion. “Was I discussing Tweedledum and Tweedledee’s dead family?” Both Dee and Tee stiffen up behind me, but they don’t say anything. Good on them. I could practically spit I’m so fucking mad.

“No, I don’t believe so,” the Gryphon continues, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. “Were you talking about that time the former King of Hearts tried to kill his own son? Or that other time the former King of Hearts cut up the White Rabbit’s pet mouse and fed it to him?” My eyes dart over to the men in question, but neither of them reacts. Rab, actually, looks quite happy smoking a fresh cigarette.

The Mocking Turtle snaps his fingers as I grit my teeth in anger. There are so many revelations running through my mind right now, but I have to pick them apart later. Now is not the time.

“Oh, that’s right,” the Mocking Turtle says, turning to glance up at the very last bit of sun showing above the navy mountains. Very soon, it’ll be full dark. At least there are two moons here, right? More silver moonbeams to cut through the horror of this meeting. “I was discussing her dead brother Frederick and how he had to die because the Alice is a whore.”

“You son of a bitch,” I snarl, snatching the match from behind my ear. I’d have lit it, too, if Rab hadn’t curled his gloved fingers around my own. “Say that again and we’ll see how well the Vorpal Blade can perform a castration.”

“No, she’s certainly never been to finishing school, a crude cunt like her,” the Mocking Turtle says, adjusting his tie. Yes, he’s wearing a suit. Both of these crazy men are. Unlike the Gryphon, I don’t suppose the Mocking Turtle would be considered handsome by anyone. He’s tall and muscular, but almost too muscular, like some kind of pre-human caveman species. That, and he has the most grotesque mouth I’ve ever seen with those hooked lips, toothless gums, and thick grimy tongue. “I’d like to put her into a class at the school of Reeling and Writhing, and then run her through the different branches of arithmetic: Addiction, Dissection, Mutilation, and Derision.’

I remember this play on words in the original Lewis Carroll book, the Mock Turtle’s strange twist on addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division. Only … you know, it wasn’t so macabre. And compared to this turtle, that one wasn’t so scary after all. Their lyrical nonsense doesn’t frighten me though, no way, no how.

‘Stop with the riddles and the bullshit. What do you want, and why do you give two shits about me?’ My men—err, the hot Underland dudes I’ve been hanging out with—wait quietly behind me, providing a wall of support at my back.

‘You are a simpleton, aren’t you?’ the Gryphon mocks, lifting his wings high up on his back. I wonder what species he is, as he’s the only person I’ve seen with feathered wings other than Tee and Dee. But they were very clear: they’re the only angels left alive in Underland. So what is this guy?

‘If you insult the Alice again,’ North snarls, his accent clipped and sharp. Black, scaled wings explode from his shoulders, and his tail tightens around my ankle, squeezing to the point of pain. ‘Well, nobody insults a jabberwock’s mate and lives to tell the tale.’

‘Shut your mouth,” the Gryphon says, and I have to hold North back by grabbing his tail tight in my fist. “The last thing we need is the opinion of another useless, cursed male. We’re here to speak to that slut of an Alice.” The Duke crouches low and punches his fist into the stone walkway, leaving a crack and a mini crater in his wake. I’d try to comfort him, but I’m too busy watching the way the Gryphon and the Mocking Turtle watch me, like they’re soaking me up, like they have sponges for eyes. My stomach twists in my gut, and bile rises in my throat.

Maybe Tee was right and this wasn’t such a good idea?

‘The Alice is like the sun that blasts away the shadows,’ the Turtle says, twisting his hand in a small half-circle. He summons darkness to his fingers, just like that. ‘But there’s always an eclipse to look forward to, isn’t there?’

‘Eat shit,’ I say, whipping another match from the pouch on my belt, striking it, and lighting the pistol’s fuse. The Turtle begins to laugh, head tilted back, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the chortle. The Queenmaker launches my little cannonball into the air, and sends it right through the Turtle’s apparition. It falls over the edge of the cliff, and explodes in a sea of fire that reaches the sky. ‘If you didn’t come here to talk, then what is it that you want?’

‘To state our intentions,’ the Turtle says. Just like I thought originally, he’s clearly the leader of the two. ‘And let you know that there’s only one future queen of Underland.’ His mouth stretches wide, flashing swathes of empty pink gums.

‘There’s a future queen of Wonderland,’ the King of Hearts says, but almost like he’s bored. Apparently, their intimidation tactics don’t work for shit on diagnosed socio or psychopaths. Oddly enough, I’d almost like the guy if I hadn’t seen him murder one of the poor card servants earlier. ‘Underland won’t last long.’

The Mocking Turtle—let’s call him M.T.—stretches his mouth into a grin, and I watch as he bends down and picks something up in his hand. I can’t see anything until his fingers are curled around the creature. Only then do I realize he’s holding a lobster, an animal unfortunate enough to actually be in the same plane as that nutjob which, in turn, makes me really glad that I’m not. I will take a Recitation any day, thank you.

The lobster’s clearly still alive, claws waving around as the Turtle lifts it up to his face, opens his mouth so wide it looks like his jaw is coming unhinged, and then bites the thing’s head clean off.

It might ‘just’ be a lobster, but I get the idea that M.T. would enjoy it just as much—or more—if it were a kitten or a puppy … or a human baby.

“Tastes like the sweet flesh of an angel infant,” he says, licking his fingers as the Gryphon crows with laughter. Both Tee and Dee move around me, tearing their knives from their belts. But this meeting is done; we all know it.

‘Get the fuck out of my kingdom,’ the King says, his voice like a sonic boom, just as powerful as the blast of the Queenmaker. With a snap of his fingers, he dismisses the two Recitations like fog in the wind. Their see-through visages shimmer and fade, ripped back through those red doors on the floating island. They slam shut, forming the shape of a heart and leaving nothing but the scent of rot and blood in their wake.

When the King turns back to look at me, bloodred hair dripping onto his forehead, I feel like I can see the hint of a cruel smile on his face.

‘How do you feel about staying in Underland now, Alice?” he mocks, before waving his hand for Rab, the White Knight, and the soldiers to follow after him. The King of Hearts disappears inside the castle, and me, I disappear all the way up to my room.

‘You have no idea how good it feels to lie down,’ I say, turning my head slightly to the right to look at Dee. His blue and black hair is rumpled, and his smile is sweet, but there’s a shadow lingering across his face that mimics the darkness eating away at his brother’s.

‘We’re only going to get a second alone,’ Tee says, pacing at the end of the bed, his boots shuffling against the shaggy white carpet. It’s a very similar, err, rug to the one that Rab had in his house: white with purple spots—i.e., something’s skin. Tee lifts his amethyst eyes to mine, sending a small shock through me. He’s just so damn pretty, this fallen angel prince. ‘Whatever you do, don’t mention the Looking-Glass. If we get a chance … no … when we get a chance, I’ll take you through it. Allison, I’ll take you home.’

‘Give me a few more days,’ Dee pleads, sitting up all of a sudden and running his fingers through his hair. ‘Give me a chance to show you what you can do here, all the changes you can make. Allison-who-isn’t-Alice, you can turn Underland into Wonderland again, undo a hundred plus years of pain and suffering. You can fix it all.’

Dee wiggles closer to me, sliding one of his wings underneath my body and making me shiver. What he doesn’t know is that I’ve already sort of, kind of decided to stay. The night Tee and I first made love, he looked at me like I was changing his mind about Underland, too. How can I throw that away? And how can I possibly leave this place in the hands of the Red King, the Mad Hatter, and that freaking Turtle-Dick? What kind of person would I be? It’d be worse than handing Underland over to Trump. An uncontrollable shudder overtakes me.

Tee and I exchange a glance, and I swear, it’s like he’s reading my mind. His mouth twitches up at one corner.

‘Who’s this queen those assholes were talking about?’ I ask, running my hands down my face. It’s been … what? … a week and a half since I got here? And yet it feels like months. Years, even. But not in a terribly bad way. I mean, the Gryphon and the Mocking Turtle weren’t particularly pleasant, but all they’ve really done is incentivize me to fight back.

‘The Alice is the one, true queen of Wonderland,’ Tee says, his voice pitching low. From the look on his face, I can see right away that this isn’t a subject he particularly wants to talk about. And yet … why? He’s been nothing but forthright the entire time I’ve been here. What’s so bad about this chick? ‘But if you liked the status quo … no, if you wanted things to get worse, how would you fight against a queen?’ Tee blinks his dark-lined eyes nice and slow. ‘Only a queen can battle a queen.’

‘It’s like a game of chess,’ Dee says, opening his azure eyes to look at me. ‘The king wants to be protected by a queen because in all reality, he’s worthless.’ I prop my head up on a hand, breathing in nice and deep, past the sweet smell of sun-dried linens and soap, and pulling in two deep lungfuls of the twins’ shared scent. ‘So the other three kings, they’ll want to go toe-to-toe with us.’

‘The other kings?’ I ask as Dee sits up and takes his shirt off, getting it tangled in his wings and then simply tearing the fabric off like some romance novel MMA fighter. My heart starts beating like crazy because I just know that I’ll have to free his wings for him again tonight. In fact, I’ve been fantasizing about what else that magic kiss might lead to since I saw the twins in the garden this morning. ‘I thought those two psychos worked for the Walrus and the Carpenter?’

‘The Carpenter and the Walrus,” Tee growls, reversing my order, “aka the King of Clubs and his brother.’ He’s scowling so violently his face looks like it might split in half. ‘The Carpenter currently wears the crown. But don’t worry: I’m sure they’ll take over the Kingdom of Diamonds or the Kingdom of Spades next, and then they’ll both wear jewels on their filthy heads.’

‘Did somebody say jewels?’ a voice asks, just before a bag appears out of thin air, turning over and spilling a sea of diamonds onto the carpet. ‘Because I’ve brought more presents.’ The Cheshire Cat’s kitty head appears upside down, grinning wildly at me. ‘I’ve made all of this, you know. With just my love for you.’

‘You’re not in love with me,’ I say, crossing my arms over my breasts, and over the silky soft perfection of my new sleeping gown. I was going to go all modern and wear a tank and panties—because they do have that shit here—but hot damn. How could any girl resist a nightie like this? Edith drools over crap like this in the Frederick’s of Hollywood window all the time. Wait, though. Does that make this lingerie? Am I wearing lingerie right now?!

‘Am so,’ the cat says, spinning his head around. His body appears next, like an ink drawing being traced into the warm air of the room. Outside, storm clouds have rolled over the castle grounds, and there’s that same electric charge in the air from the other night. Wild magic, free magic, tainting and eating away at the landscape. I can’t help but think how all of that power used to reside in the bodies of this world’s women. Now, it’s just a plague, like acid rain rolling across the landscape and poisoning everything in its path.

Is it any wonder that this whole world’s gone mad?

‘You are not,’ I say, throwing my feet over the edge of the bed and tucking them into fuzzy slippers with hearts on the toes. The King certainly has a thing for branding; all of his soldiers have sleeves of heart tattoos. Yeah. Not one heart tattoo, whole sleeves of red and black and gray. Or so Dee says. Hard to tell with all of that armor they wear. ‘And put those diamonds back where they came from. The last thing I want is to have my head lopped off for harboring stolen goods.’

‘Oh, the King would never lop your head off. Perhaps a stand-in dressed in blue and white. But never you, oh beautiful Alice.’ Chesh shifts in mid-air into his human form, and lands barefooted and quiet as a pussycat on the carpet. The look Tee throws him is one of supreme annoyance, but not outright hatred the way he looks at the King. Good sign, right?

“He may very well take your head then,” I say, wondering if the cat is checking out my nipples again, and debating how hard I may or may not want to punch him in the nuts.

‘Have you ever heard of taking a head when there’s nothing but a head to take?’ Chesh’s body disappears for a moment before flickering back into place. ‘It just simply doesn’t make sense.’

‘Do you just exist outside of this whole hierarchy then?’ I ask, moving over to a small table near the door. There are tiny cakes and pies, a pot of hot water, and plenty of tea. There’s a small part of me that considers drinking it, but then I remember where I am and what’s at stake.

Somewhere in this castle, there’s a Looking-Glass that leads to home. To Edith, to Dad, to … sort of Mom. And on the other side of these walls, there’s a pair of mercenaries-for-hire and a mad king who wants to marry me. Either way, getting high on boosted tea is not a good idea. I pull open the door to a tiny cabinet that sits on the back of the table and find it full of FUCKING DRINK ME bottles and FUCKING EAT ME cakes. Hmm. I push it closed again and leave the small key in the lock where I found it.

‘You mean why am I such an insolent little prick?’ Chesh asks, coming up behind me and taking a bit of my hair in his hand. He sniffs it, and I reach back to slap him away. As soon as our skin brushes though … ugh, I’m done for. I can feel the chemistry between us brewing like a witch’s cauldron. If I drank that shit, I’d probably turn into a frog. ‘The answer to that is simple, Alice.’

‘Is it now?’ I ask, piling a plate high with sweets. I’ll go on a diet when I get back home. Or not. Turning around, I eye the tall, lanky frame of the cat with a discerning gaze. I’m desperately trying to find something wrong with him. Like, if he had a huge, bulbous red nose with tons of pores and pimples then maybe I could pretend I don’t find him attractive. But he doesn’t. No, of course he has a small, triangular nose above his full, wide mouth. His striped ears twitch in his ebon dark hair, and his silver piercings catch the dancing flames from the fireplace. He’s got a piercing in the center of his nose—a septum piercing—as well as one on either side of his lips, and hoops lining both his cat and human ears. ‘So what is the answer to your stupid riddle?’

‘I’m a cat, of course.’ Chesh shrugs his muscular shoulders and then scratches at the line of dark hair below his belly button with long inked fingers tipped in pointed black nails. He swishes his tail as he grins at me, and I roll my eyes. I figure he followed the Duke here: he seems pretty overprotective of North. So why then is he in my room?

The doors to my bedroom fly open and in struts North, still dressed to the nines in his stupidly tight leather pants. His white shirt is still unbuttoned and flashing bronze skin, and his golden hair is shiny and straight, highlighting the wicked darkness of his horns. He flicks his tail and smashes it into the wall, rolling up his shirtsleeves as he does.

And right behind him is the Mad Hatter, the March Hare, and the Dormouse.

‘This is a ridiculous violation of my rights,’ the Duke says, and he sounds savage all over again. My skin heats up, and his eyes whip over to mine, the corner of his mouth raising up in a small snarl. He thrashes his tail again, knocking a sugar dish to the floor and breaking it, then crosses his arms over his chest. ‘This bloodsucking demon is demanding a room in the Suit of Hearts—one of the Suitor’s Rooms, to be specific.’

‘You’re telling me,’ the Mad Hatter starts, tilting his lazy top hat in my direction, ‘that I’m asking too much? The Alice is my future bride, after all.’ His orange eyes flash as he smirks at me, taking in my nightgown with a very discerning edge. There’s no doubt that he is checking out a whole lot more than just my nipples.

‘You’re a real piece of work, aren’t you?’ I ask as March helps himself to a heap of pink heart cookies from my table. He nibbles one and twitches a single brown ear in my direction, his dark eyes flicking to each of the twins and then over to the cat. I get the idea that the Mad Hatter is the brain of this operation, the Dormouse is the muscle, and the March Hare is the eyes, ears, and nose. He twitches his like he’s scenting for something. “Like I didn’t notice you disappeared the second the Gryphon and the Mocking Turtle showed up?”

“Calm down and have some wine, Alice,” March says, blinking big brown eyes at me.

I grit my teeth and curl my hands into fists.

“I don’t see any wine,” I choke out as March tilts his head to one side.

“There isn’t any,” he says as Raiden chuckles. The Mad Hatter pulls his cane out from beneath his hat, tapping it on the floor as he makes his way over to one of the leaded glass windows next to my bed. He stops to gaze out at the pouring rain like it has all the answers.

“Then it wasn’t very civil of you to offer it,” I snap, raking my fingers through my tangled hair. It’s time for bed—like way past time—and here I am with an entire harem of men in my room.

“It wasn’t very civil of you to accept the Hatter’s hand in marriage if you weren’t going to let him stay in your Suit. A Suitor does belong in a Suit, after all, you must agree,” March drawls lazily, snapping a heart cookie in half. The Dormouse grunts from behind him, and I see this quick flash of annoyance on March’s face as he turns to look at the much bigger man. Dor has a Neanderthal’s thick head, and arms that are hairier than the Cheshire Cat’s fluffy tail. Gross.

“This girl don’t look like much to me,” Dor grumbles, shaking his head and ruffling up his brown hair with thick fingers. “Don’t see why we’re even bothering. Let’s kill her and the jabberwock and be done with it.”

“You are most certainly not qualified to comment on muchness,” March growls with a dramatic roll of his eyes, finishing his last cookie and taking up a cupcake next. “You’re not much in the way of muchness, yourself.” Dor narrows his eyes like this is the worst insult he’s ever heard in his life while I’m standing there trying to puzzle out what their fucking conversation is even about.

“Certainly it’s standard for a Suitor to live in the Suit,” North interrupts, digging his dragon nails into his palm and making himself bleed. I start to move over to stop him when Chesh rubs his cheek against the Duke’s shoulder and lets out a fierce purr. After a moment, the Duke of Northumbria stops and gives Chesh a scratch behind the ears, visibly less upset than he was a moment ago. “But Miss Liddell has only just arrived, and it’s custom for the primary to assign each man his Suit.”

“Tee is my primary,” I blurt, and all the men turn to look in the twin’s direction.

“The King is the primary, surely,” North starts, but I’m already shaking my head and waving my arms.

“No, no, nope. No fucking way. You tell that asshole if he wants to play ball” —I pause because that reference is clearly lost on these guys— “metaphorical croquet with me, he’ll listen to my demands. The first is that Tee and Dee stay with me at all times.” My throat clogs up, and I have to force the next words past my lips. “And the Duke.”

Oh, and the look he gives me … it’s so savage.

“Well, then,” March says, drawing a key out of the front pocket of his velvet trench, “you’ll be wanting this then.”

“The Queen’s Key,” Dee chokes out, and he looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. “Where did you get that?!”

“I pinched it, of course. The King should take better care of his things, don’t you think?” He flicks the key in my direction, and I just barely manage to snatch it out of the air, uncurling my fingers to find a gold key with a heart on both ends, one big and one small. When I look up, March gives me this slow, dangerous little smile before pointing over to one of the paintings on the wall.

I follow along and glance over at the framed art piece. It’s an intricately rendered oil painting based on John Tenniel’s—the original illustrator of the Alice books—illustrations. Or … is it the other way around? This particular painting is of the Mad Hatter, mouth open as he sings Twinkle, Twinkle Little Bat to Alice. The only difference between this piece of art and the original, is the small gold lock in the center of the Hatter’s bow tie.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I whisper as I shuffle across the carpet, the men’s eyes following my every move. As soon as I lift up the key and touch it to the painting, it slides into the lock and turns. The entire frame swings forward as I step back and find myself looking into a long stone hallway dotted with torches in the shape of top hats.

My eyes narrow as I turn to look at Raiden Walker, vampire-mercenary extraordinaire.

‘Remember when I agreed not to leave the Duke naked in jabberwocky territory?’ the Mad Hatter asks, twisting his hat around on his head. It keeps spinning long after it should’ve stopped. ‘This is all I asked for in currency. Well, this and a million coins.’ He flashes a vampire grin, strides up to me, and leans down to whisper in my ear. “Remember: not until you beg.” He stands up and just laughs when I punch him as hard as I can in the arm.

“You can sleep in there with the door locked,” I grind out, pausing to glance over my shoulder at the March Hare and the Dormouse. “But they have to go.” The look Dor throws me in that moment is pure hatred. If the Hatter let him off his leash, he’d probably tear me into little pieces and lap up the blood.

“Dor will go; March stays.” Raiden turns to go and then pauses, nose twitching as he glances back at the twins. He studies them for a long, agonizing moment, and then smiles. It’s not a very nice fucking smile, I must say. “I thought I smelled angels. Interesting.” With an exaggerated wink, he saunters down the red runner that covers the hallway’s stone floor.

“Boss!” the Dormouse calls out, but March is already chucking his cupcake wrapper in the big man’s face.

“Stay, pet,” he drawls with a sneer, pausing to turn and bow for me. Technically, he’s being respectful, but I sense this nibble of mischief eating its way into his smile as he stands up, steals a few small pies from my table, and heads for the hallway.

Tee shoves the painting closed behind him, and I hear the very distinct click of a lock sliding into place.

“You know where the exit is,” he snaps at the Dormouse, and it looks like the big man is seconds away from tearing Tee’s wings off his back. As if on cue, the grandfather clock in the corner of my room chimes, and the twins’ wings fold back into their body with the sound of clanging chains. The look of anguish on Tee’s face makes Dor grin.

“Cursed fuck,” he grumbles, putting his meaty hand on the doorknob and turning it.

“Woman-less prick,” Dee calls out, and I see Dor’s shoulders tighten as he rips the door open, storms out, and slams it closed behind him. Some of the tension clears from the air as I finger the gold key in my hand.

‘Why would Raiden be interested in angels?’ I ask, because it feels like I might be missing something here. That statement, it wasn’t at all random.

‘Angel blood sends vampires into Frenzies,’ Chesh says, pouring himself some cream in a chipped tea cup. He doesn’t actually add any tea, just licks the cream out and purrs again. It’s kind of hot, actually—probably because the hand holding the tea cup is covered in tattoos.

‘Frenzies?’ I ask as Tee scowls and takes his cap off, reaching out to drop it on a hook near the door. As he extends his arm, the gold hook stretches out and takes the hat from him. It’s fucking creepy as hell. Note to self: have that shit removed in the morning.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Tee says as he starts to unbutton his coat. ‘There are only two angels left in Underland, and he won’t be drinking from either of them.’

‘Either of us,’ Dee says with a roll of his blue eyes. ‘Only crazy people talk about themselves in the third person.’

‘Contrariwise,’ Tee says as he shrugs out of his military jacket and his shirt. I try my best not to drool. ‘I’m the only sane person here besides Allison; I make the rules.’ Dee grins and slumps back into the pillows, watching me carefully as I pick up and nibble on a pink star cookie with little sprinkles in the shape, size, and color of pearls.

‘So, are there nine suites … I mean Suits in here?’

‘Sure are,’ Dee says, fluffing his pillow and snuggling into it. It doesn’t look like he has any intention of moving off my bed. ‘Nine big cocks.‘

‘They didn’t all have to be big, you know. The Alice is bound to get exhausted. A few medium-sized ones would’ve been appreciated.’ Chesh and Dee both laugh, Tee’s cheeks look a tad pink, and North’s eyes sweep me in my nightgown appreciatively.

‘Sorry I can’t help with that last request,’ he growls out, and I grind my teeth.

‘So … what happened between you two anyway? I mean, other than sex,” Dee asks, and he doesn’t sound at all upset by that. What a weird change from back home. In my world, these two guys would be beating the shit out of each other, squirting testosterone all over the damn room. Gross. I like this better.

‘I had to tame the beast,’ I say with a loose shrug of my shoulders. ‘It was a stressful morning.’ Just thinking about that giant bat is giving me the heebie-jeebies. Not because of the bat though, just the height. Ugh. Next time, I’m riding North.

Heh.

Riding North. Get it?

‘Thank fuck for that,’ Chesh says, sliding his tongue in a circle around his full mouth to clean off the cream. His tongue is longer than a normal person’s. Can’t decide if it creeps me out … or if I’m sort of curious to see what he could do with it. ‘It’s been quite a long time since the Savage Duke has had anyone in his bed. I should know; I usually sleep at the end of it.’

He flashes a fang when the Duke reaches out and absently scratches Chesh on the top of the head.

‘Are you two lovers or something?’ I ask, tilting my head to one side, white-blonde hair sliding over my shoulder. The rainbow streaks are still there. If anything, they seem even brighter than when I left. Not the weirdest thing I’ve seen since I got here, so who gives a shit?

‘Lovers?!’ North asks, completely and utterly aghast. He even puffs out his chest in indignation. At first I think he’s about to go on an anti-gay rant, and I get my feathers all ruffled. ‘Are you quite serious? The Cheshire Cat is my pet.’

‘Meow,’ Chesh says with a grin, curling his hand into a little paw and then teasing me with it, like a cat batting at some yarn. ‘You hear that: his pet.’

‘Where are the rest of your people?’ I ask, because he can’t possibly be the only cat person in the entire world.

Wrong question to ask apparently.

Chesh shuts down and looks away at the same time Tee sighs. We exchange a look and the expression on his face tells me all I need to know.

Maybe Chesh is the last of his people?

‘How did you two meet?’ I ask as Chesh moves over to my bed and crawls onto the end of it, stretching the full length of his body out on the red comforter. His tail twitches lazily and his right ear swivels in my direction to listen.

‘He showed up bloody and soaked to the bone on my doorstep,’ North says, looking at me with a very serious expression in his gold eyes. ‘How else does one acquire a pussy?’ This last part just oozes out of his mouth, dripping with carnal decadence.

Getting a straight answer out of these people is damn near impossible.

There’s another knock on the door, and I sigh, reaching out to open it. I’m fearing the worst, expecting the King of Hearts and his ostentatious entourage. Instead, it’s Rab and Lar, waiting with torches in hand.

‘I thought we’d never get out of there,’ Rab says, his white ears twitching on the top of his head. He blinks red-red eyes at me and then tilts his head to the side. ‘Well, aren’t you going to invite us in?’

With another sigh, I step back and welcome the two men into the room.

We’ve got a full house in here now, but I don’t really mind. I’ll be going home eventually and … then I’ll be all alone again. See? Doesn’t it make more sense for me to stay here? I’m starting to truly believe it does.

Sucking in a sharp breath, I run my hand down my face. I’m no idiot. It’s pretty clear all these idiots think they’re sleeping in here tonight. Not sure why. Even if I were inclined to take nine lovers, it’d be nice if I got some say in the matter.

Lar unfurls his butterfly wings, that blue and gold shimmer reflecting the light from the fire. I wonder if he’s got another prophecy? If he does, I’m not sure if I want to see it. If I’m going to get eaten by a giant bird tonight, I’d at least like to sleep first. But all he does is relax his wings until they’re dragging on the floor.

‘The King likes to work us until we can’t stand up anymore,’ Rab says with a sigh, sitting down hard in an upholstered chair and letting his head fall back. ‘Prick.’ He crosses his legs at the ankle, his feet bare, like he’s already dressed for bed. The long-sleeved black nightshirt and black and white striped sweats add to the ambiance of comfort. I doubt he was assassinating people for the King of Hearts dressed in that.

‘These walls do talk,’ Lar says, playing with the gold bracelets on his arm. He lets his ice-blue eyes slide over to mine, catching my gaze. There’s so much emotion packed in there, I can’t even begin to unwrap it, so I look away. ‘Even in the Alice’s room.’

‘No,’ Rab says, lifting his head for a moment. His voice is like the howl of the winter wind, chilling and intriguing all at once. ‘The King certainly isn’t that stupid, bugging little Sonny over here? Does he know what a praying mantis does after it mates?’

‘Are you insinuating that I’m going to fuck the King or that I’m going to eat his face off … or both? I’m not sure which of those things is more offensive.’ I take my plate of sweets and my tea over to the bed. It says it’s chamomile. I’ve changed my mind about drinking it; I figure even if it’s boosted, it oughta put me to sleep, right?

‘All I’m saying is that you have the power to kill the King.’ Rab shrugs, and then smiles, the expression making it painfully obvious that he is, indeed, a psychopath. Only a true crazy person can smile like that, like a knife cutting its way across the face. I half-expect to see blood spill. ‘I’m glad to see you alive though. Quite the surprising treat.’

‘Why, thank you,’ I quip as Lar shrugs out of his jacket. Tee watches him for a moment before heading to one of the dressers and pulling out a pair of pajamas for both himself and his brother. Doesn’t surprise me that their pj’s are already in ‘my’ room. This is what the King’s been expecting this whole time, for me to show up here. ‘I’m also quite glad to be alive.’

Rolling my eyes, I settle into the pillows again and start to deconstruct one of the fancy little toadstool cupcakes. The top is covered in some sort of red modeling chocolate with little white spots. It really does look like a mushroom. Underneath the cap though, there’s a creamy fudge filling that tastes a bit like hazelnuts.

‘My prophecies tonight …’ Lar starts, making up a cup of tea. ‘They were quite disturbing.’ I notice his shoulder-length hair dancing in a magical breeze. It teases the strands and stirs the white fabric of his shirt, but it doesn’t touch anything else. He’s brimming with power; I can practically smell it. I’d hate to see what happens when the Caterpillar gets pissed.

‘Flames and blood, the stench of death. It was like the post-Riving all over again.’ Rab accepts the cup from Lar’s long, pale fingers, and takes a sip, closing his eyes with a small groan. ‘The Walrus and the Carpenter were unmistakably present.’

‘They want to put their own queen on the throne,’ I repeat, staring into my own tea cup. I remember Lar saying he could read tea leaves. I’d like to see that sometime. That is some straight-up Harry Potter shit right there. ‘And then do what?’

‘Dismantle the four kingdoms, make them one again,’ Lar says as Tee disappears behind the bathroom curtain and starts to strip. I can’t help but watch his shadow as he undresses. Crap. What am I going to do with these guys? I’ve got to take them home with me, right? I mean that’s what Tee wants. Dee, I’m not so sure about. If I did leave, and I took his brother with me, would he come or would he stay? ‘Except, they don’t want to restore order; they want to maintain ironclad control. They’re both sociopaths, the Walrus and the Carpenter. Lewis Carroll used to be their soothsayer, you know?’

‘How is that possible?’ I ask, putting my tea cup down on the saucer so loudly that the clink makes me cringe. ‘That’d make them both over a hundred and fifty years old.’

‘Time is relative to some,’ Rab says, lifting up his shirt to show off the ticking clock in the center of his chest. ‘They’re both—relatively—immortal.’

‘If they’re immortal, then how am I supposed to kill them?’ I ask, lifting an eyebrow.

‘I said immortal, not invincible,’ Rab replies, his voice like an icy breeze on the back of my neck. It makes all the hairs on my arms stand on end … and heats up a warm pool in my lower belly. Told ya I was attracted to crazy people. I must be damaged, but I suppose that’s okay—I’m pretty sure everyone else here is, too. ‘They can still be killed; that’s your job, Sonny.’

‘Marry the King. Kill the bad guys. Save the world.’ I keep my gaze focused on my tea for a moment, and then chug the rest of it in a single sip. ‘Sounds easy enough.’ Just a few days ago, I would’ve taken this shit in stride because I wouldn’t have planned on doing any of it. Hell no. I was ready to run home like a rabbit down its hole.

But not anymore.

Now I’m freaked the fuck out.

Because I’m pretty sure I’m not going home until I make some positive change here in Underland.

‘Now get the fuck out of my room, so I can go to sleep.’ I poke the Cheshire Cat with my toe as North moves over to stand beside me. My heart starts to pump, and I can’t help but lift my head to look up at him. He smells like sandalwood and musk, and it’s making me feel a little dizzy.

‘I have my own wing here,’ he says, bending down next to me and taking a knee. His gold hair feathers across his forehead, and I have the strangest urge to brush it away with my fingertips. Instead, I bite my lip and pretend my nipples aren’t so hard they hurt. ‘But I’d be honored if you’d give me access to one of your Suits. After all, as your future husband, it only makes sense.’

‘Listen buddy,’ I start, but he’s got such a sincere look in his gold eyes … plus, you know, that bloody beautiful accent. I just shrug and gesture at the other paintings on the wall. There are nine, now that I think to count them. ‘Be my guest.’

‘Wonderful,’ North declares, rising to his booted feet before leaning down and capturing my lips with his. My first response is to stiffen up and punch him in the nuts. Instead, I end up groaning and leaning into the kiss, enjoying the feel of his tongue sliding against mine. He tastes like a good chai latte, nice and spicy and sweet all at the same time. When he pulls away, I’m breathless and wanting, a boat adrift without an anchor. I almost reach for him, but end up curling both hands into fists. ‘The moral of the story is: if you need me, you have but to call.” He steps back and gives me this hungry, half-lidded look that undoes me completely. “Oh, ‘tis love, ‘tis love, that makes the world go round!”

North sings this last bit as he rises to his feet and snaps his fingers. With a growl, the Cheshire Cat shifts back into furry form and lets the Duke pick him up, stroking his back with long, sure fingers.

‘I will see you in the morning for practice,’ he says with a sharp nod. ‘It wouldn’t do to have an Alice who can’t fight.’

North pulls a ring of keys from his pocket, removes one, and leaves the rest on the bench at the end of the bed. He approaches another painting, this one of a jabberwock, and uses the key to unlock the door that the giant black dragon’s just busted through. With a salute, he passes inside and closes it behind him.

‘You may as well help yourself to some keys,’ I say, gesturing at Lar and Rab. ‘Because I get the feeling you’re not going to leave me alone until I give you each one.’ Setting my food aside, I crawl into the blankets to wait them out. Maybe if I pretend to be asleep, I’ll be left alone? I’m just so fucking tired right now.

Besides, I figure after Rab and Lar leave, I’ll kiss the twins to free their wings. And maybe … something else, too.

I’m asleep before Tee finishes tucking me in.

The night is as dark as velvet when I wake next, studded with stars that twinkle like fine diamonds. Both Tee and Dee are asleep on either side of me, but they look exhausted, so I do my best not to wake them up. I feel bad that I conked out before I could free their wings, but I suppose there’s time for that later. Instead, I kick the covers back and slide carefully off the edge of the mattress. Tee stirs and blinks his eyes open for a moment, but when he sees me slip behind the bathroom curtain, he closes them again.

I make sure to pee before I try anything else; I have a feeling Tee and Dee are going to be more cautious with me from now on. Last time I snuck out, I was kidnapped by the Mad Hatter. Maybe not the best idea in the world to sneak out again, but I want to see a bit of the castle without an entourage. I could wake the twins and ask them to show me the place, but I need a minute alone to think. But only a minute. Alone and lonely are two entirely different things, but back home, I was alone so much that I became lonely. I really do prefer the company of these men—even if they’re all mad.

Slipping on a furred crimson robe, I tiptoe to the door and let myself out into the hallway. The stones are cold beneath my feet, but the torches on the walls seem to give off an unnatural amount of heat and light.

This place is huge, at least four or five times the size of the Duke’s place and that was a fucking palace to me. Padding softly across the stone floors of the upper level, I just start checking doors. Most of them are locked which frustrates the hell out of me. Of course they’re locked. The few that open lead to empty bedrooms or sitting rooms. I feel like Belle, exploring the Beast’s castle, looking for the forbidden wing. Now, if the furniture starts talking, I’ll have really seen it all.

‘If you’re in search of the Looking-Glass,’ a voice says from the shadows, ‘then rest assured: it’s well-guarded. The Walrus will never find his way into your world.’

‘It’s not the Walrus I’m worried about,’ I say, curling my hands into fists as the King steps out of the shadows. He’s dressed in a suit this time. Yes, a suit. A black suit with a black undershirt, well-pressed slacks, and shiny white loafers with hearts on the toes. His tie is even covered in hearts.

He moves forward to stand beside me, looking even older than he did outside on the croquet-ground, like he’s in his late twenties, possibly early thirties. Or maybe it’s just the suit?

‘It’s me. I need to be able to go home when I’m ready.’ I cross my arms over my chest. Even if I was just caught snooping, I’ll remain obstinate. It’s one of my better traits.

‘Home? You are home, Alice. Your bloodline descends from Wonderland.’ The King pushes gloved fingers through his bloodred hair as I examine the scar on his neck. It reminds me of his guillotine, and the pile of headless bodies bleeding next to it. The Gryphon mentioned something about the former King of Hearts trying to kill his own son; is the King’s scar related to that? My guess would be yes. No wonder the guy’s a cranky asshole.

‘Yeah, but I don’t. I’m not from here. And I have a sister, a dad … and a mother back home that need me.’ There’s not a single doubt in my mind that that’s true. They all might treat me like I don’t exist, like I’m not important, like I don’t matter. But they all lost Fred, and I know that if they lost me, too, then his death would seem like it was for nothing at all. I can’t do that to them, even if the more selfish parts of me would rather stay here in Underland forever. I’ll stay awhile, and then I’ll go home. That makes sense, right?

‘There’s an entire world that needs you here,’ the King says, his voice full of quiet, commanding strength. ‘Stop being so selfish.’ His lips turn down in a frown as his ebon eyes sweep over me. He exhales a long, tired sigh and shakes his head. ‘I’ve never put that much faith in the prophecy or the Alice, but really, you’re still a disappointment.’

My blood boils, and I step forward, into a shaft of silver moonlight. I can feel that strange tingling in my fingertips again, the power collecting in my hands. Guess beheading would be a real possibility if I accidentally, like, zapped the King, right?

‘You’re one to talk,’ I snap, feeling anger overtake me in a crimson wave. ‘You killed that poor card for no reason.’ When I close my eyes, I can still see its silently screaming face. And all that blood …

The King just smirks at me, a perfect twist of the lips that would have any girl swooning.

But I’m not just any girl—I’m a cynical asshole. We’re a special breed.

‘Good. Just continue to deny your destiny. It’ll give me more fodder when I put you on trial and have you deported. Oh, you’ll get home for sure—but on my terms. Trust me Alice: getting rid of you is now my number one priority.’ The King turns to leave, but I stop him with a hand on his arm. I half-expect to have my ass handed to me by the palace guards, but there don’t seem to be any around right now.

We’re well and truly alone.

‘Why did you bring me here if you’re just planning on sending me home anyway?’ I ask, hearing my voice crack with frustration. If I didn’t know better … I’d say I hurt the prick’s feelings? But no, that can’t possibly be it. The King’s hair glints in the moonlight, as red as fresh blood from an open wound.

‘I will have you, Alice. You’ve always been destined to be mine.’ Why did he say that if he wanted to get rid of me all along anyway? It doesn’t make any sense. No, I smell a bruised ego. I bet he thought I’d stumble into the castle, fall all over him, simper my undying love … Ew.

‘There are still idiots who believe in the prophecy,’ he says, looking down at me. No, he towers over me, lords over me like he owns the fucking place. I mean, I guess technically he does, but I’ve always had a problem with authority, so screw him. ‘Like Tweedledee for example. And if I can’t appease the simpletons, I could very well have a riot on my hands. But don’t worry, Alice. All I needed was for you to fail, and you’re doing an excellent job at that already.’

The King starts moving as my fingers loosen on his arm, his footsteps loud as he heads down the dark hallway in the opposite direction from my room. I wait until he’s out of sight and then lean my back against the stone wall, sinking to the floor with my robe and nightgown billowing around me.

I never asked for any of this.

So why the hell do I feel so goddamn bad about it all?

It’s not my responsibility. What should I care if the King makes a fool of me before he sends me home? It’s what I want anyway. I should be happy about it.

And yet … I’m not.

Not at all.

I feel like crying, like the original Alice from the storybook, shedding so many tears that I flood the entire castle. But I don’t cry anymore, remember?

Brushing a small bit of liquid off my face, I stand up and shake the feelings off before I make a liar out of myself.

Instead of crying, or running away … I’ll just have to prove the King of Hearts wrong.