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

‘Rise and shine, Allison-who-isn’t-Alice,’ Dee says, stroking a finger down the length of my nose. ‘We’ve got a busy day today. Breakfast with the King, training with the Duke, and your dress fitting for the ball.’

‘A ball?’ I ask with a groan, pushing Dee’s hand away from my face. ‘How cliché is this place?’

‘Clichés are simply repeated patterns,’ Dee says, grabbing the pillow I’ve just chucked over my face and prying it from my sleepy fingers. ‘They couldn’t even be clichés unless we repeated them. A princess arrives at the castle, and we have a ball. It all fits the story, you see.’

‘All I want to see are the backs of my own eyelids,’ I say, but my blankets are being thrown off and onto the floor. Dee is already dressed in his usual outfit: painted on black denim jeans, a button-up shirt, and his blue and black military coat. He’s even got his peaked cap nestled onto his blue-streaked black hair.

‘Breakfast is always served in the garden,’ he says, setting a stack of clothes on the bed next to me. I recognize Edith’s dress right away and my heart catches in my chest. When I’m home, I hate her. Now that I’m here, I miss her terribly. ‘And lunch today will be served in the solarium. Training with the Duke will take place in the athletic facility between meals, and your fitting will be later this afternoon.’

‘Where’s Tee?’ I ask groggily, rubbing at my face as Dee brings over a cup of tea and carefully places it on the intricately carved nightstand next to the bed. The top is made out of a piece of red quartz in the shape of a heart. Back home, I’d have flipped my lid to own furniture even half this nice—or this cool. No boring oak shit here. No, everything I look at is a piece of art, something different. Sometimes it’s kooky, sometimes it’s ugly, but it’s always interesting.

Can’t say that about home.

‘He’s with the King; they all are,’ Dee says, nodding his head at the paintings on the wall. ‘But he shouldn’t be long. We’re yours now. We’ll be spending all our time with you.’ Dee lifts his chin in the direction of my tea. ‘Drink up. It has a light energy boost in it, that’s it. It won’t fuck you up.’ He winks at me, claps his heavy steel-toed boots together, and offers up a salute. ‘Soldier’s honor, miss.’

‘Can I wear something else?’ I ask, rubbing the white apron of the dress between my fingers. This dress represents the conundrum inside my head and heart; I don’t want to wear it right now.

‘You can wear whatever you like,’ Dee says, opening the closet door and moving over to a row with dozens … maybe hundreds of outfits in glittering high-def.

Jesus.

Edith would shit her pants for this. Maybe she should’ve been the Alice? We were at the same party after all. In fact, she had to beg me to go. What if this is all some sort of mistake, and I’m stealing my little sister’s destiny? I watch Dee walk back toward me, thinking that maybe he should’ve been hers.

That thought infuriates me.

I push the stack of clothes aside and stand up suddenly, throwing my arms around Dee’s neck and pressing my lips to his. As soon as I do, I feel it, that power exchange between us. The air smells fresh and crisp, a mountain high that swirls around us. Dee’s jacket explodes outward to make room for his wings, the fabric billowing in the rush of magic.

We have a bright citrus-y kiss, like spring and lemonade. I smell flowers and an easy breeze, my tongue tangling with Dee’s as he wraps his arms around me and lifts me off my feet. Only my toes are touching now, and just barely. The fingers of my right hand tangle in his hair, while I use my left to shove the chains from his wings.

They hit the floor in a clanging heap, echoing around the circular bedroom.

‘The King will be furious,’ Dee whispers against my mouth after a moment. But I don’t care. If the twins are supposed to belong to me, then I’ll damn well do with them what I want. And what I want are their wings, free and clear. Not that I mind kissing them every day, but I want to find the witch that cursed them and get rid of this spell. Whoever she is, she’s going to be sorry when I get my hands on her.

Dee wraps his wings around us like a cocoon, cutting us off from the outside world. I love that, feeling safe inside his feathers. His breath stirs my hair as I look up into his sapphire eyes, sliding my hands over his shoulders to tickle his feathers.

You just met this dude, my brain continues, ever the persistent optimist. And yet, I can’t bring myself to care. I like being around Dee, more than I ever liked being around Brandon or … Liam. Especially Liam. And the sex is better, too. If Liam weren’t already dead, I’d go back home with the Vorpal Blade and the Queenmaker, and I’d kill him myself.

‘You let me worry about the King,’ I say, stepping back and enjoying the soft brush of Dee’s feathers against my bare arms and shoulders. After last night, I’m more determined than ever to piss the asshole monarch off. After all, who was the focus of the prophecy? Not him. I am the one who’s supposed to save Underland, so who the fuck does he think he is? You know, besides the ruler of an entire country.

It’s virtually impossible for me to leave an asshole that smug, that arrogant alone. Nah, it’s my job in life to bring him down a notch or two.

‘By the way,’ I start, making my way over to the row of clothes and putting my hands on my hips. ‘What’s the King’s name?’

‘It’s Brennin,’ Dee says, pausing next to me and reaching out to finger an outfit that’s eerily similar to his own that’s hanging on the rack next to the one with all the dresses. ‘Brennin Red.’

‘Red, huh?’ I ask, grabbing the outfit Dee’s touching off the rack and taking it from the hanger. The jacket and button-up are basically identical to his, save the color which, of course, is red. There are no jeans though, just a pleated red skirt. I like it though. Boots and pleated skirts are sort of my thing. Drives Edith nuts. “You people like to keep things themed, huh?” I move over to one of the stands in the center of the room, the top encased in glass with a black velvet cushion beneath, laden with jewels. There are drawers down the side of it where undergarments are kept. Shocker: all the panties are white with red hearts on them. Bras, too.

I drop my nightgown to the ground and glance over my shoulder to find Dee watching me, his eyes half-lidded and burning. When he flicks his gaze up from my ass to my face, a slow smile takes over his mouth.

“The King likes to keep things branded,” he says, his voice husky as I turn away with a chuckle and get dressed, slipping into the skirt which hits at mid-thigh, my new bra, and the button-up shirt. I leave the panties for last and then decide to tuck them into the front pocket of Dee’s jacket instead. The look he gives me is freaking priceless. He cups his palm over the pocket and smiles lasciviously. “He’s a very controlling individual, as if you couldn’t tell.”

“Well then.” I shrug into the red and black military coat, sweep my hair out from under the collar, and step into a pair of boots before turning around to throw a feisty smirk Dee’s way. ‘Let’s go get breakfast with Brennin Red then. If that piece of shit thinks I’m going to call him Your Majesty, then he’s got another thing coming.’

As soon as we step into the back garden, I start to hear voices.

Panic surges through me and for the briefest of moments, I wonder if I really am crazy, if I’ve dreamt this whole thing up. They say schizophrenia sets in during puberty, right? I mean, I’m way past puberty—I started my period at age twelve—but there’s still a chance, isn’t there?

‘I can see right up your skirt, and you’re not wearing any skivvies,’ a matronly voice says from near my right ankle. With a squeak, I jump and slap my hands over my ass, glancing back to glare at Dee. I’m expecting a servant—maybe a human one this time—but instead, I don’t see anything but the handsome man with the azure eyes looking at me curiously. ‘And if you’re not going to wear skivvies, could you at least have manicured down there?’ the voice continues from somewhere in the cluster of daffodils.

On closer inspection … I realize that the voice isn’t coming from inside the cluster. No, the daffodils are fucking talking.

I did not see any of this shit when I was mini and creeping through the small garden door. Think I would’ve noticed if the local flora had nasty, judgmental attitudes.

‘What the fuck …?’ I start as the flower scoffs at me. ‘You can talk?!’

‘We can talk—provided there’s anyone worth talking to,’ replies a tiger-lily from the next garden bed. They’re laid out in color coordinated rows, creating a beautiful waving rainbow effect from where we stand, all the way out to the exterior walls where the roses drip with blood. I can smell it from here, the metallic copper bite mixed with the sweet cloying smell of rot.

‘Soon as I saw you,’ the daffodil continues, tugging at the lace of my boot with one of her leaves, ‘I said to the others, ‘Her face has got some sense in it, though it’s not a clever one!”

The flowers chortle in unison, waving in the breeze.

‘If you don’t hold your tongues, I’ll pick you,’ Dee says, putting his boot dreadfully close to the face of the bitchy daffodil. When I bend down and squint, I can just make out her tiny eyes. She’s most definitely glaring at me. And then, as we stand there, she lifts her leaves up and makes a gesture that I’m pretty sure is meant to convey a staunch fuck off message.

‘Talking flowers,’ I say to Dee as I stand up. ‘I never thought of that before.’

‘It’s my opinion that you never think at all,’ the red rose says.

‘I never saw anybody that looked stupider,’ a violet chimes in, just before Dee bends down and plucks several of the flowers up by their stems. My mouth hangs open in shock as he lifts up the bouquet—now containing a daffodil, tiger-lily, rose, and violet—and hands it over to me. Blood drips from the stems, and I feel bile rise in my throat.

‘What have you done?’ I choke out as I feel leaves pummeling my calves.

‘He’s just plucked my prettiest blossom,’ the matronly voice says, coming from a different daffodil. ‘What a foul, lazy, useless beast. It’s no wonder that his people went extinct!’

Dee plucks another daffodil and adds it to the bunch.

‘The flowers are inhabited by pixie spirits,’ Dee says, pushing the bouquet closer to me. The blood has mostly stopped dripping, though there are spatters of it all across the white gravel. ‘If you pick one flower, they just move onto another.’

‘Eat shit,’ one of the roses says, ruffling up its petals. I carefully extract the bouquet from Dee’s hand, feeling our fingers brush together in the process. Heat suffuses my cheeks, and I try to pretend that I don’t see the majority of the men sitting at a table under a gazebo, watching us.

Dee lifts his wings for a moment, shading my face from the sun before he leans in and puts his lips close to my ear.

‘I’m afraid,’ he says, but I just turn my face and kiss him again, lifting up my right hand to push his wing out of the way so that everyone can see. Fuck you, Brennin Red. You might be a king, but you’re not my king. I’m an American, goddamn it. We don’t respond well to authority.

‘Don’t be; I’ve got you.’

I turn and follow the winding path through the garden over to the table where the King sits front and center, his arms crossed over his chest, his ebon eyes sliding over my shoulder to glare at Dee.

But … he doesn’t say anything.

Lucky him.

When Brennin looks back at me, I can see the smallest hint of a smile on his face. It’s not a pleasant expression though, not even close.

‘Good morning, Alice,’ he says, putting such a strong emphasis on my name that I know it’s on purpose. He gestures for me to take a seat opposite him, opposite all the men really. On the opposite side of this table, there are nine seats.

And just me on this side.

Dee makes his way around me and sits on the far end, opposite his brother. I can feel Tee watching him, watching me, taking in the situation. His wings are next, preferably if I can kiss him in front of both the King and the Hatter.

Just taking in the row of male specimens, I can sense it: two supreme alpha assholes.

‘Well, well, aren’t we looking lovely this morning?’ Raiden Walker oozes, his purple velvet top hat sliding forward on his head, the brim casting the most perfect of shadows across his marmalade colored eyes.

‘Eat shit, asshole,’ I say, turning to the King. ‘This man tried to kill your Duke, tried to sell me to the King of Clubs, and blackmailed his way into the castle. And you’re going to sit here and have breakfast with this piece of crap?’

The Mad Hatter throws his head back and laughs at me, flashing fang.

‘You’re one very brave woman,’ Raiden says as the King’s mouth lifts up at the edge again. He’s wearing the same suit from last night. Would not have surprised me if he wore it all night and never slept. Do villains really need to sleep? Or do they just run off evil batteries? He probably charges them by kicking puppies and burning books.

‘Not really,’ I say with a sneer, sitting down and popping my bloody bouquet into a glass of ice water. ‘I just don’t like you.’ I tap my nails on the table and let my gaze drift to North, sitting on the King’s left. Chesh is next, then Lar, with Dee on the end. On the opposite side, the Hatter sits next to March, Rab, and Tee. Behind Raiden and March, there’s a host of palace guards … and Dor.

I really, really, really don’t like Dor.

The way he’s looking at the back of North’s head is scaring the skirt off me. The dragon … err, jabberwock … seems to know he’s being hunted though. His tail is thrashing violently against the white and red stone patio, and he keeps looking over his shoulder. I wonder how Dor caught him off guard in the first place? He’s not a man easily taken advantage of.

‘You don’t like me?’ the Hatter asks, taking off his purple hat and revealing a marmalade colored one underneath that matches his eyes. Instead of In the Style of 10/6 on the tag, this one reads In The Spirit of 10. It’s probably a reference to the nine men in the prophecy, plus me. See, I’m not stupid. What I am is frustrated. ‘But we had such a lovely trip together?’

‘You are not part of my nine,’ I say with a snarl. Maybe I’m getting too involved in this prophecy shit, but I can’t help it. ‘None of you are unless I say it.’ I pause and wet my lower lip. I’ve always been a fan of the underdog … ‘And Tee and Dee most certainly are.’

One of Rab’s white ears swivels in my direction and he smiles. It’s almost pleasant. Almost. If his smile wasn’t as icy as his voice, I might think he was enjoying the moment.

‘And …’ I feel like I might regret this later. ‘North.’ My voice catches in my throat, and I stuff a scone in my mouth to cut off the sound. Pretty sure I got lucky with my choice of food though. As I chew, I notice that the breakfast assortment this morning is, how should I say, eclectic. Some of the boys have colored drinks with crickets for garnishes. I’m pretty sure Tee is drinking out of a large blue flower—a real one.

‘Quite bloody right,’ North says, giving me a look across the table. His gold eyes meet mine just before he snakes his tail underneath and wraps my ankle. I even let it go this time.

‘I thought just last night you told me you wanted to go home?’ the King asks loudly, loudly enough that I’m sure all the guards and a couple dozen bitchy flowers probably heard him. There are human servants tending to our table. Maybe even old Red finds the silent, screaming cards creepy?

‘If I’m the Alice, I can claim nine men, and I’m claiming those three.’ I pick through the crumbs of my scone, checking for insects. Fortunately, there aren’t any. There is a candied honey bee on the cupcake I grab next though. I carefully pluck it off and set it aside. ‘Does it matter what I said or didn’t say last night? Because if I did say it, I certainly didn’t mean it. And if I didn’t say it, then I’m most certainly not at fault, am I?’

Look asswads, I can riddle, too!

‘Cute,’ drawls Brennin, but I’m pretty sure I just pissed him off. ‘But to answer your previous question: these men are here because you brought them. There are no package deals here. Only the Alice knows who the true nine are.’ The King taps his fingers on the table while somewhere off in the distance, there’s that horrible whistling sound of the guillotine. When I glance over, I see a body with two big angel wings, twitching while blood spills across the pavement.

Cold chills break over my body, and I find it suddenly hard to swallow. It’s obvious even from here that the wings are fake, but the gesture has its intended effect. Both Tee and Dee pale, and I can feel my heart thundering wildly.

Brennin Red just smiles.

‘Listen Brennin,‘ I say, putting a huge amount of emphasis on the prick’s name. ‘If you don’t stop executing people left and right, we’re going to have problems.’

‘Are we now?’ the King asks. He puts his head on one white-gloved hand and leans his elbow on the table like he’s bored. ‘And what, exactly, are you going to do about it?’ I squeeze my hands into fists on my thighs as anger roils hot and wild inside of me. What am I going to do about it? Against the King and his million guards? All I have is a knife, a gun, and a few loyal allies. But would the Duke really stand up against the King for me? I wouldn’t want to test that theory.

Brennin waves his hand in the direction of the guillotine. I glance over my shoulder just in time to see a girl in a blue and white dress being dragged toward the bloody red edge of the blade.

‘What the fuck?!’ I snarl as I stand up, knocking my chair over in the process. ‘Don’t you dare.’ Now I’m shaking, my fingers curling into fists on the white tablecloth. ‘Don’t.’ This last word is whispered, my eyes locked onto the King’s ebony ones.

The way he smirks at me … I know I’m in for some trouble.

He gives a slight nod of his head, and the girl is brought forward, shoved to her knees, her neck put on the wooden part of the guillotine.

‘I said don’t,‘ I repeat, feeling that strange energy spiral up and through me. Magic. My magic. And I’m not afraid to use it—even on a King. Lar’s blue eyes widen, his earrings and hair dancing in the breeze, while the March Hare raises one arched brow at me. They’re the only ones who seem to notice that’s something going really wrong inside of me.

‘Or what?’ Brennin taunts, standing up from the table. He stares me down for a long moment before tilting his head just slightly. The guards pull the rope and the menacing blade of the guillotine rushes down toward the girl’s neck.

Something wild floods through me, like electricity coming from inside my heart, trying its best to find a way out. Without thinking, I fling my arm up in the direction of the execution, and energy shoots through me, tearing across my chest and making me scream. It feels like I’m being ripped to pieces from the inside.

‘Allison, don’t!’ Tee screams, shoving up from his seat and leaping the table in a single vault. He’s at my side, grabbing me before I can hit the ground. My body spasms like I’m having a seizure, but even with all of that, I don’t miss the fact that the guillotine explodes into a million pieces. Even the blade shatters, sending shards like knives throughout the garden. ‘Allison!’ Tee shouts, putting his fingers into my mouth.

I don’t realize how hard I’m biting my tongue until he gives me relief from it. Pain explodes like starbursts behind my eyes as I bite down on his fingers instead. He grits his teeth, but doesn’t pull back, keeping my airway clear as the power finishes its wild ride through my body.

‘It’s okay, Allison-who-isn’t-Alice,’ Dee whispers, kneeling on my other side. He spreads his wings and then dips one underneath me. Tee lets his brother pull me up and into an embrace, taking his fingers from my mouth only when he’s certain I won’t choke on my tongue … or bite it off.

I’m panting now, eyes rolling back into my head.

‘Well now,’ the King says, pausing beside Tee in his stupid suit. The Hatter stands next to him, his decorative cane held underneath two carefully folded hands, tapping gently against the stones beneath his feet. “That sure was stupid, wasn’t it?”

North slides between us, tail smashing the stones beneath his feet.

‘You know I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my mate,’ he snarls, and the King nods.

‘At least now I know she’s not entirely useless,’ Brennin says, looking down at me like a tool he’s just found a use for. ‘So the magic does still sleep inside of you?’ The King smiles and leans down, getting in my face. “By the way, I prefer to be called Red, rather than Brennin. Maybe I’ll call you Allison instead of Alice if you return the favor?” The King stands up with that awful smirk still on his face, and then saunters off in the direction of the castle. I can hear the flowers chuckling at me from their beds. Butt waffles.

‘Are you alright?’ Dee whispers as I shake and shiver in his arms. I can’t even describe what I’m experiencing; it’s too intense. My thoughts feel like electric sparks pinging around inside my skull. I don’t even feel human right now. All I can think about is the Riving. If my weak-ass magic just fucked me up that bad, then what was it like to be torn apart by it? To be changed into a man and stripped of all that power?

Because even though I feel like it just killed me, I want it back.

No, not just back.

I want more of it.

As much as I can fucking get.

The Duke sits on the end of my bed, the long black lengths of his talons digging into his pants. I can see tiny of beads of blood welling up through the pierced leather breeches. That’s nice, and very prophetic—the first thing I see when waking up from my short nap is blood. I reach out and grab the pocket watch that’s sitting on my nightstand—pretty sure it belongs to Rab—and check the time.

‘No training today?’ I manage to choke out. Three hours and a nap later, and I’ve just now gotten my voice back. Sort of. I sound like a frog with strep throat.

‘Are you taking the piss with me?’ North asks, looking over his shoulder and blinking big gold eyes. He did stand up for me out there, didn’t he? The thought warms my heart, and I lick my lips as I struggle to sit up. ‘I’ve already cancelled lunch and dinner; our meals will be sent up to the room.’

The Cheshire Cat stands up—in cat form—and stretches his front paws out in a little bow, kneading at my sheets and snagging the fine fabric. He doesn’t seem to give two shits, and neither do I. I hope he fucks up all the King’s nicest linens and pisses on his pillows. Because that’s what cats do when they’re mad: they pee all over your favorite stuff.

‘The King was going to execute that girl,’ I cough, picking up the strange pink drink on my nightstand. My hands shake, and I end up sloshing half of it onto the bed. But when Dee approaches to help, I wave him away. I’ve got this. Even if the drink is glittery and has gold sparkles around the rim of the glass, I’m too thirsty to care. ‘Because she looks like me.’

‘Miss Liddell,’ North starts, and then pauses. He turns more fully to face me, tail swishing gently as Chesh bumps his furry head against my elbow. ‘That girl is dead anyway.’

‘No,’ I say, starting to shake my head, but that doesn’t change reality, does it? I screamed and cried and wished and prayed away my brother’s death, my mother’s incarceration. It didn’t change anything. No, I lost my family to toxic masculinity and nothing can bring them back, no matter how hard I protest.

‘The King only kills convicted criminals,’ Tee says softly, but with a voice laden with anger. I don’t think he’s trying to defend Brennin; he’s trying to protect me. ‘He just wanted to hurt you, make you think it was your … our fault. But it’s not. He just dresses them up like that to screw with our heads. Those people are all murderers—or worse.’

‘Underland is not a pretty place,’ Dee adds, crawling onto the opposite side of the bed and making his way over to me. There’s more than enough room for his wings, at least, on a bed this big. ‘I promise you, if they were innocent, we wouldn’t let the King execute them like that.’

‘It’s still fucked up,’ I say, scrubbing at my face with one hand while I hold my drink with the other. It tastes like strawberries and sunshine. Honestly, it tastes a little bit like Dee himself, like I’m kissing him every time I take a sip. I take three more. ‘Psychological torture. And how do you know they’re guilty?’

‘A simple curseworker incantation can turn a person’s hands red if they’re guilty of murder,’ Tee says, reminding me of the King’s gloves. He’s always wearing gloves. Why is that, I wonder?

‘Discussions of capital punishment aside,’ I begin, sipping the sweet glittery drink. Despite the dead butterfly garnishment on the side of my glass, it’s actually pretty miraculous. With every sip, I feel the fiery pain in my throat easing a little. ‘What the hell happened out there?’

‘You called on the magic,’ North says, lifting his head up, like he’s scenting the air. He pauses after a moment and looks back at me. ‘The Alice is special because she isn’t limited to the power inside of her; she can draw on the world’s energy like it’s on tap. That, my dear mate, is why the world either wants you … or wants you dead. There’s no one you can’t defeat, if you learn how to use that skill.’

‘Except for the anti-Alice,’ Chesh says, shifting back into place with his head on my lap. Dirty, sneaky little trick. I shove him off, but I can’t resist pinching and rubbing one of those fuzzy little ears first. He bats at me with his fist curled up like a paw.

‘What’s the anti-Alice?’ I ask, feeling this ominous shadow creep over me. The ice cubes clink in my glass, and I realize my hand is shaking. Whatever I did out there, it really and truly messed me up. I’m not sure if I’ve ever felt this weak and this powerful, all at the same time.

‘The Walrus and the Carpenter, their queen,’ Tee says on the end of an exhale, his amethyst eyes glittering with anger. ‘She can quite literally suck the magic out of anything and everything. She can’t use it, but she can absorb it. It’s why training with the Vorpal Blade, and with the Queenmaker, with North … why it’s so important. If you’re going to destroy her, you’re not going to be able to use magic.’

‘Not that I can use magic now,’ I say on the end of an exhale, but my lids are already feeling heavy and I’m too tired to argue. Everything on me hurts, everything. I feel like I’m having period cramps in every part of my body, that’s how bad it is. And ladies, you know that’s real pain.

‘We’ll get there,’ North says, watching me as my eyelids slip closed. Dee reaches out at the last second and grabs my drink, sliding his fingers gently against mine just before I pass out. It’s nice, having them all there.

Even after the crap-tastic day I’ve had, I’m starting to like it here.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

‘Can I get sick every day that I’m here?’ I ask as Dee places a tray on my lap the next morning. His wings are gone, and poor Tee never got to have his out yesterday. But that couldn’t be helped: I slept through the afternoon, the night, and into the early rays of dawn. Once, when I opened my eyes, I could’ve sworn I saw Lar drawing some sort of magical symbol in the air in front of my face. Then again, there’s also a good chance I hallucinated that, too. ‘Then I won’t have to see the Hatter or the King. Frankly, I’d take about a hundred of those magical shocks to stay out of their company.’

‘I also brought you breakfast, if you prefer a raw food diet,’ Chesh interrupts as he drops an armload of rodents on my floor, most of them in various states of decapitation. Off with their heads, right? He grins at me, and then crawls up to sit on the top shelf of the carpeted cat tree in the corner. Pretty sure it was intended for him in cat form, but he doesn’t seem to care, leaning his elbows on his leather covered thighs and peering at me curious gray eyes.

‘Uh, thanks,’ I say, lifting the silver lid on my tray and finding porridge with edible flowers. I wonder if some of them were talking a few minutes prior to my meal? Oh well. They all seem like assholes anyway. It brings me some sadistic pleasure to crush their pretty petals between my teeth. “But as much as I enjoy cat-spit covered, dead rodents, I’ll stick with the porridge.”

‘We’ll need to continue with your training today,’ North says, standing with his arms crossed at the end of the bed. He seems awfully eager to get back into it. Maybe he just wants to rub his sweaty, muscular body all over me again? Perv. Or am the perv for looking forward to it? ‘You’ll also need to learn about the quintrille.’

‘What the fuck is a quintrille?’ I ask as I dig around in my food. The flowers have a bright, sharp sweet taste that melds perfectly with the strawberries and blueberries mixed into the porridge. Truth: I’m just making sure there aren’t any insects hidden in there.

‘It’s like a quadrille, only different,” Dee supplies, smiling brightly in my direction. I cock a brow at him.

“Thank you, oh so helpful seer. And a quadrille is … what, exactly?”

“It’s a card game,” he quips, teasing my arm with the tip of his wing. I like it too much to stop him.

‘Or a dance,’ Tee adds.

‘But never both at the same time.’ Dee crosses his arms behind his head as he watches me eat. If I knew having this many boyfriends would essentially give me free slave labor, I’d have started my little harem up months ago. I wonder if they write scholarship essays, too? Because my parents used up Fred’s college fund on his funeral, and mine and Edith’s on a lawyer for Mom. If I want to go to college—maybe I don’t anyway—then I’ll need some serious help paying for it.

Then again, maybe I’d just rather stay in Underland for the rest of my life?

‘And which version will I be learning?’ I ask as I wonder where the White Rabbit and the Caterpillar are. Brennin Red the Royal Prick seems to ‘need’ their services on a regular basis. Not that I need or want them around anyway, but … what if I did, huh?

‘The dance,’ Chesh purrs from his perch. ‘But certainly the Savage Duke won’t be teaching you. He’s a Hearts-awful dancer, aren’t you, North?’ The Duke ignores his cat, narrowing his gold eyes, his horns ridiculously tantalizing to my achy fingers, like they’re just begging to be touched. If I ran my fingertips up the hard, curved lengths and touched the tips, would I bleed?

‘Lar will teach her,’ Tee interjects with a small sigh, raking his fingers through his purple-streaked black hair.

‘Why not you?’ North asks, tilting his head quizzically. ‘You and Lar, you’re the only ones who dance the quintrille with any skill or grace.’ He pauses for dramatic effect. ‘Well, besides, Red.’

Red, huh?

‘By the way, I prefer to be called Red, rather than Brennin.’ Puh-lease.

‘I’ve got errands to run today,’ Tee says, and I catch his gaze for just long enough to know he’s talking about the Looking-Glass. He wants to find it for me, even as he’s starting to believe I might be able to make a difference here. I don’t stop him though, even if I’m beginning to believe the same thing. Having a steady, reliable way to get back and forth between Topside and Underland is vital. ‘Lar’s a good teacher though. He’ll make sure you know it well enough to dance at the ball.’

“The Ball of Broken Hearts and Stolen Tarts,” Dee singsongs with a sigh, folding some laundry and moving into the closet to put it away. He doesn’t seem to be bothered that he went from prince to pauper in a relatively short period of time.

‘The Ball of Broken Hearts and Stolen Tarts?’ I ask, because what the fuck is wrong with that name? It’s a rhetorical question, so nobody bothers to answer me. ‘What’s the point of this thing anyway?’

‘To introduce the Alice to the Court of Hearts,’ Tee says, exchanging a glance with the Duke. ‘Although I don’t know how good of an idea this is. We’ll need to be on top of security at all times. Assassination attempts are likely.’

‘Oh, well, great,’ I say with more than just a little sarcasm. Sunlight streams in through the massive windows on either side of my bed, casting gold bars across the thick furs covering my legs. There’s a knock at the door, and I watch as Tee moves over to answer it. ‘Now I’ve got assassins chasing after me?’

‘You had assassins chasing after you already,’ Rab says, sweeping in the door as Tee opens it. ‘Remember? I so gallantly protected you.’ He swipes his gloved hands down the front of his red and black striped vest and pulls out a watch from his front pocket. The white ears on the top of his head twitch. ‘The King of Clubs—the Carpenter—he sent that Rabbit after you.’

Rab pauses near the refreshments table. It’s always fully stocked with goodies although I never see anyone tend to it. I’m pretty sure it’s the terrifying little card people, but frankly, I don’t want to know. Maybe it’s just Dee?

The White Rabbit pours himself a glass of lemon-infused sparkling water, and then makes his way over to stand near the bed. Having him this close to me, I can feel the tension between us, as taught as a bowstring. Let it snap and an arrow’s bound to fly. The question is: exactly whose heart will be pierced by the wicked tip? ‘I’ll be on patrol during the party, so don’t worry.’ The look he flashes me is built of both confidence and violence as he taps a single tattooed finger against the side of his glass, lifting it carefully to his full, smirking lips for a drink.

‘In bandersnatch form?’ I ask, fishing for information. Supposedly, all Rabbits have three alternate forms, but I have yet to see more than one of Rab’s. Considering Rabbits have to eat the meat of all their other forms, I just hope he doesn’t turn into a kitten or a puppy. Shudder. Although I do suspect he can turn into a mouse. M.T. and the Gryphon basically said as much.

‘We’ll see,’ Rab says, his voice low and slow and dangerous. No wonder he’s the King’s personal go-to guy; he’s terrifying. He blinks those red eyes at me, and I have to resist the urge to squirm as he snaps his pocket watch closed and tucks it into his pocket. His sleeves are rolled up, so I can see his tattoos, tick-tick-ticking away. ‘It depends on how … interesting the night gets.’

‘Hopefully not too interesting,’ Tee says with a small sigh. He takes a small step back, and when I reach for his hand, he takes another one, putting himself out of my reach. I raise an eyebrow. ‘Wings might … make my chores take longer today,’ he says, giving me another look. Ah. Gotcha. It’s a bit harder to sneak around with a thirty-foot wingspan, huh? I nod and let him go, waiting until the door closes before I set my food aside. All of a sudden, I’ve got butterflies.

What if Tee comes back in an hour and says he’s found the Looking-Glass? What will I do then? Take the twins with me and leave the others behind? Leave Underland to the King of Hearts and the Mad Hatter and the Anti-Alice?

Shit.

Since when did I grow a conscience?

‘So,’ I start, swinging my legs out of bed and feeling this prickly rush of sensation race through me. ‘Should we get started with training?’

‘Only if you think you’re up for it,’ North says as I rise to my feet and close my eyes against a sudden wave of dizziness. I slept so hard and so long that I didn’t realize it was morning when I first woke up; I still thought it was the previous afternoon. Fail.

‘I’m up for it,’ I say, opening my eyes and locking gazes with the jabberwock. ‘Let’s go downstairs, so you can kick my ass.’

Or cup it, pound it, or otherwise touch it some way … That part I only add inside my mind.

Yep, I am the pervy one here. No doubt about that.

The Vorpal Blade reflects the light from the chandelier above my head, the one made of black and red glass in the shape of little hearts. It’s quite beautiful, if out of place for a gym. But this is no regular gym. The floors are a sleek, shiny black, the walls are striped, and the ceiling is mirrored.

It’s disconcerting, to see my own sweaty face staring at me when I’m flat on my back on the mat.

I wonder what else I could be doing on my back on this mat?

‘Focus,’ the Duke growls, circling around me with quick steps. ‘The Anti-Alice will have trained her entire life for this moment. You … may get months at most, more likely weeks.’ He pauses and ruffles up his golden hair. ‘Hopefully not bloody days.’

‘Days?’ I ask, feeling my throat get tight. I can’t imagine fighting a combat trained woman in my current state. Whatever happened with that magic, it’s still affecting me. I don’t feel right, and I imagine it’s going to be several days before I’m back to normal. But this ball bullshit, it’s at the end of the week.

That doesn’t give me a lot of time to prepare.

‘What happens if I stab her with this?’ I ask, flashing the blade. The Duke gives me a savage smile and steps close, bringing that warm, masculine scent with him. He reaches out one bronzed finger and traces it down the length of the blade, drawing blood.

‘The Vorpal Blade is part of a Looking-Glass, pure magic. If you manage to penetrate the Anti-Alice with it, she’ll try to absorb the power in it.’

‘And …’ I start as blood drips down the length of the blade, hot and warm against my skin. I still don’t understand who this Anti-Alice is exactly, and why she’s called the Anti-Alice, but I’m learning as I go. It’s hard to get a straight answer out of these people on the best of days anyway. If I were to sit down and ask them to lay everything out for me, they’d probably just confuse me with stupid riddles.

‘Well, just as you can only channel so much magic without feeling the effects, it’s the same with her. She’ll pull endless amounts of energy through that blade … and she’ll die.’

‘I’ve never killed anyone before,’ I say as North wraps his fingers around my bloody wrist and pulls me close, so close that my breasts brush against his chest when I breathe. His stare is so intense, I swear I can feel it cracking my soul in half.

‘You’ll do just fine,’ he says as Chesh moves up to stand beside us, flicking his fluffy, black and white striped tail. He’s supposed to be my sparring partner while North corrects my form. So far the only thing he’s done since coming down here is nap. ‘There are two sides to every coin; you can’t always flip for heads.’

‘That doesn’t make any sense,’ I say, stepping back from North. If I let myself, I could get all wrapped up in the Savage Duke. Hell, I’d love to be wrapped up in the Savage Duke, tangled up in blankets, his hot, sweaty skin pressing against mine … Yeah, opening my sexual floodgate was maybe not the best idea. Now it feels like all I can think about is sex. ‘Not a lot does in this world.’

‘Maybe it’s your world that makes no sense?’ Chesh purrs, sheathing and unsheathing his claws. ‘Have you ever thought of it that way?’ He circles around me like, well, a cat circling a mouse. Only, this bitch is no mouse.

North adjusts my grip on the Vorpal Blade’s black hilt and then turns me to face the Cheshire Cat. He’s wearing a loose leather vest over his bare, tattooed form, along with tight leather pants, and no shoes. I’m properly dressed in the full ‘twin’ outfit: black denim, button-up shirt, and boots. I started off in the coat, but I’m already soaked in sweat. I shed that shit a while ago. And yeah, there was no way I was wearing a skirt to train in. Can you imagine? It would get beyond carnal in here.

I did, however, put on Lory’s corset with all the little hidden knives tucked into it. Figured that could very well come in handy.

‘Put him on his bloody back,’ North growls, shaking himself out and then reaching up to tap at the pointed tip of one of his horns. ‘I already know you’re good on yours.’

‘Oh fuck off,’ I snarl as I widen my legs in a fighting stance … and Chesh yawns, stretching his arms up over his head. Clearly, he’s not concerned. ‘Are you gonna fight me? Or you gonna lick your crotch again?’

‘I’d much rather have you lick my crotch,’ Chesh says as he flashes a grin at me, showing off just enough fang to be cute. His eyes are wrapped in liner, and he’s wearing a fucking collar. It even has tags on it—with my name on them. Well, Alice’s name anyway. And I guess I am the Alice. Mistake or not, I’m the one that’s here.

‘Make me,’ I say, but Chesh just yawns and scratches at his fuzzy little kitty ears. Bastard.

‘I’d rather just wait. That’s what cats do, you know, stalk their prey. Don’t you ever just sit and converse with your pussy?’

‘Dinah doesn’t exactly talk much,’ I say, ignoring his innuendo, and then I lunge forward, swinging the Vorpal Blade like North taught me. I hold it tight and low, thrusting forward as I pivot on my feet. I may as well have tried to shoot a slingshot at a fly.

Chesh leaps nimbly out of the way and lands in a crouch, smirking at me.

I shove my hair off my face, sending rainbow strands fluttering as I feign left and then sprint right. Chesh just flops onto his side and rolls out of the way, tail flicking as he laughs at me.

‘Come at me, Alice,’ he purrs, all four limbs sporting claws. He looks like Dinah does when she meets a new cat or dog, lying on her back with all five of her weapons exposed—two front paws, two back, and a mouth full of teeth. Dogs might be surrendering when they show their belly, but cats … they’re getting ready to whoop some ass.

‘You son of a bitch,’ I growl as North circles around us, watching Chesh twist up like an acrobat and land on his feet. When I come at him again, he grabs my wrist and uses my own momentum to flip me over and onto my back.

All I can say for myself is that I manage to keep the knife.

Using my left foot, I kick out at Chesh’s right knee, and watch as he jumps and sails right over it, landing with a foot on either side of my pelvis. I see that he’s going for a pin, and pull both legs back, doing this awkward somersault thing that gives Chesh the perfect moment to go for my throat.

His fingers dig into the back of my neck, claws drawing blood. I cry out, but I don’t stop, using my full bodyweight to pull back. This time, I stumble, but I don’t fall. Warm rivulets of blood drip down the sides of my neck as I fling my head back just in time to see Chesh coming at me again. Instead of throwing a punch, he shifts into his cat form, slips between my legs, and comes up behind me.

‘In Underland, there’s always another trick or two up your opponent’s sleeve,’ he growls as he wraps an arm around the front of my neck, pulls back, and lifts me clear off my feet. Without thinking, I stab the Vorpal Blade down and back.

I really don’t expect to hit him.

Blood explodes hot and warm around my fingers as Chesh screams and releases me with a hiss, stumbling back and collapsing to his knees. This time, he really does take the blade with him.

‘Fuck!’ I curse spinning and falling into a crouch next to Chesh. He’s pulling the Vorpal Blade out with a snarl and tossing it aside. The mirrored weapon spins across the floor, leaving a trail of red in its wake as Chesh puts his hands over his wound and curls up in serious pain.

‘Let me see it,’ North snaps, trying to pry his … uh, cat’s … hands off the wound. There’s blood everywhere, so much fucking blood. I feel woozy for a moment as I remember my brother, Fred, lying in a pool of the stuff. Dead. Cold. Gone forever.

My throat closes up, and I feel the hot, uneasy waves of panic washing over me.

‘I didn’t think I’d hit him,’ I choke as North forces Chesh’s hands away from his stomach and takes a look at the injury. ‘I didn’t know I could hit him.’

‘Never apologize for improvement,’ North says, but he’s frowning hard, sweating, too. ‘Get the Mad Hatter,’ he tells me, flicking his gold gaze up in my direction. I look from his sweaty bronzed face to the Cheshire Cat’s pale one, and I realize how much trouble we’re really in.

Without hesitating, I stand up and take off for the door that leads back into the main hall. I have no idea where to find Raiden Walker, but I’ll figure it out. I’ll choke a dozen card servants if I have to.

Instead, I run into March.

He’s waiting just outside the athletic facility doors, checking the cylinder of a revolver. Might be gold-plated, but I don’t hold that against it. Everything in this world is deceiving.

‘Where’s Raiden?’ I ask, and one brown rabbit ear swivels to face me. Or is it a hare’s ear? I have no idea.

‘He’s in conference with the King,’ he says, noticing the blood on my hands, and reaching out to touch his fingers to mine. I jerk back, but all that does is make the asshole smile. ‘Why? Have you finally decided you can’t live without him?’

‘Just get him for me!’ I scream, and I swear to God, the entire palace shakes around me. ‘Get him please,’ I correct, but the March Hare is already smirking at me. He closes the cylinder on his revolver, slides it into a holster under his jacket, and nods briskly. ‘I live to serve,’ he drawls, but I get the idea that I’m being mocked. Doesn’t matter, as long as he’s getting the damn vampire mercenary asshole for me.

Well, it doesn’t matter right now.

Later, I may very well punch him in the nuts.

March moves down the hallway, leading me to a small, quiet study at the opposite end of the palace. I swear, it takes forever for us to get there. I want to run or scream, but I have the feeling that if I do, he’ll take longer, just to see me sweat.

When we finally do get to the room, the guards let us in without question, and I burst inside, all dramatic and shit.

‘Hatter, I need you,’ I say, hating the words even as they come out of my mouth. They feel like sand, scraping past my tongue. When he lifts his head to look up at me, there’s already blood on his mouth. And there’s red on the King’s neck. That bastard Brennin Red just smiles at me, like he doesn’t care that I’ve just caught him red … uh, necked? No, that sounds too much like hillbillies. Red-throated? Fuck, red-handed it is then.

‘You do?’ Raiden asks, his dark hair feathering around his face. He looks like a metalcore star, some guy who screams onstage in a five-piece band and makes millions for doing drugs and banging chicks. I hate him. ‘That didn’t take long, did it?’

‘The Cheshire Cat,’ I start, and I swear to fuck, the King actually smiles, like he looks happy. His crown slides forward on his head, obscuring one of his stupidly beautiful eyes. ‘I need you to heal him the way you did the Duke.’

‘The Cheshire Cat is dying?’ Brennin asks, so interested it’s almost creepy. The one eye of his that I can see is literally sparkling with magic. It really does look like a galaxy, filled with endless possibility and stars. At the same time, the expression on his face is most certainly malevolent. ‘Excellent. Let the little bastard bleed out.’

‘If you let him die,’ I start, curling my hands into fists, ‘you’ll wish you’d never brought me back to your palace.’

‘Is that so?’ Red asks, standing up from his massive desk and tilting his head to look at me. ‘And you have the power to back that up, Alice? Because yesterday, it seemed to have laid you flat.’

I can feel those knives burning a hole in my corset. If this asshole keeps pushing …

‘Hatter,’ I start again, focusing my attention on the man sitting at the King’s right. He pulls a white handkerchief with red hearts on it out of his pocket and dabs at the blood on his lips. ‘Please.’

‘There’s a price for every occasion, Alice,’ he says, standing up from his chair. From the shelves, I hear strange whispers, like the books are talking. I don’t have time to deal with that shit right now, so I file it away for later. ‘What are you willing to pay?’

I’m shaking so bad right now that it feels like I’m having another seizure.

‘Save the Cheshire Cat and prove to me you’re not a complete waste of breath,’ I snarl as Raiden rises from his seat, picks up his cane, and makes his way over to stand beside me. His orange eyes are locked on mine. I feel trapped, like I can’t look away. I wonder for a moment if he’s trying to like, fucking hypnotize me or some shit. ‘And if you ask me to answer another riddle, I’ll stab you with your own cane.’

Turning away, I start back toward the doors, the Mad Hatter following along at my heels. The March Hare is waiting just outside for us, but doesn’t bother to move as we pass him by.

‘Leave the cat to die,’ Red says, moving into the hall behind us. ‘That’s an order.’

Without thinking, I spin around and stalk back toward him. The guards bristle a bit, but the King holds them off with a wave of his gloved hand. Guess he isn’t afraid of me. He should be though. Tenacity goes a long way for making up for lack of physical strength.

I open my mouth to start off on a rampage, but the Mad Hatter beats me to it.

‘If you think you can order me around—even on a good day—you’ve got another thing coming,’ Raiden says, reaching out and taking me by the wrist. The King is lucky, really. I might’ve stabbed him.

I can practically feel Brennin radiating anger from behind me as Raiden pulls me down the hallway, our boots loud against the marble floors.

‘You’re lucky, little Alice,’ the Mad Hatter says as we move in the direction of the athletic center. I’m so stressed right now that I can barely think straight. The thought of the Cheshire Cat dying at my hands is making me sick to my stomach. ‘Because I don’t take orders from any king.’

We step into the gym and move over to Chesh, lying on his back in a pool of blood. His face is ashen, and even the sturdy Duke looks concerned.

‘What price is this going to come at?’ North snarls as Raiden kneels down beside him, unconcerned by the blood soaking into the knees of his pants. I wonder what he was doing in there with the King, but I don’t have time to analyze that at the moment. Another issue for future-Alice to tackle.

‘Only your dignity,’ Raiden says as he bites hard on his wrist and opens his veins. Chesh is awake and breathing heavily, eyes half-lidded. ‘I just hope you’ll remember this next time I need a favor.’

‘You’re insufferable,’ Chesh manages to choke out before the Hatter puts his wrist to the man’s lips. The cat laps it up with a grimace while I look on fascinated. There’s something about all of this that interests me. Maybe it’s because I’ve been a bookworm my whole life and now, I’m finally the character in the story. Isn’t that what every reader wants? To discover their own adventure?

‘Insufferably vital,’ Raiden purrs as Chesh reaches up and digs his claws into the Hatter’s arm—with his claws out. The exchange only lasts a moment, but when Raiden pulls his arm back, Chesh’s face is already warming up, pink returning to his cheeks. He sits up and adjusts his vest, giving me a sly look.

‘Nice shot, Alice.’ He winks at me as he rises to his feet. There’s blood literally everywhere, but nobody seems to mind. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one freaking out. Before my nervous heart can catch up with my brain, I’m flinging my arms around the cat’s neck and giving him a massive hug.

He hesitates for a moment, but then his arms go around me. You can tell a lot about a man by the way he hugs. Chesh is strong, and he squeezes me tight, but not too tight. His breath feathers my hair near my ear, but he doesn’t press his luck or turn the moment into anything weird.

As I pull back, I reach up and give him a pat on the head and a scratch behind the ear. He doesn’t look offended by it; I even get a little purr out of him.

‘I’m really sorry,’ I say as North picks up the blade, swings it around in a circle with a single flick of his hand, and then offers it up to me. I hate to say it, but I’m pretty sure that look on his face is relief. ‘I let you both down.’

‘Down?’ the cat asks, swishing his tail. ‘You just stabbed me. And if you can stab me, you can stab the Anti-Alice. I must say, I’m quite proud.’

‘If anything, it was my fault as your teacher,’ North says, and he’s flicking his tail, too. They look like tail twins, these two men. It’s kinda funny, really. ‘But now that I know you’ve moved past the fatal flop stage and onto a new level, I’ll be more vigilant.’ North glances briefly in the Hatter’s direction, sneers, and then grinds out a forced, ‘thank you.‘

‘Don’t thank me, thank the King,’ the Hatter says, dipping a finger in the blood and lifting it to his lips. He sucks the red off while staring right at me, and then grins. ‘If I didn’t hate him quite so much, your pussy here might just be dead.’

He stands up and leaves the three of us staring after him.

‘Grab a mop,’ North says, gesturing with his horned head in the direction of a supply closet. ‘Clean this up, and let’s get going again. There’s certainly no rest for the wicked.’

My next lesson of the day is with Lar in the ballroom.

I thought I was prepared to see the grandeur of that room.

I was nowhere near it.

As soon as I step into the domed room, I’m reminded of Beauty and the Beast, of Belle dancing under that chandelier in a yellow dress.

‘Shocked shitless?’ Dee asks, holding the door open for me. The ballroom is in the shape of a heart—no surprise there—but the architecture is to die for, reminiscent of gothic revival but ten times as intricate. There are arches carved with roses and faces of happy, dancing couples, their clothing flowing in a non-existent breeze. Above us, the ceiling is made entirely of glass, revealing the setting sun and washing the red walls with rays of gold. Several chandeliers drip from the ceiling, heavy with black and red crystals, giving off flickering light that adds to the ambience.

In the center of it all, Lar’s waiting in a pale blue shirt that matches his eyes, his sky blue/blonde hair falling just below the level of his chin. When he brushes some loose strands back from his forehead, his sapphire earrings dance, and his ice-blue gaze locks onto my own.

“I hear there was drama with the Cheshire Cat,” he says, his voice like a calm breeze. It’s a refreshing change from North’s savagery, Chesh’s cattiness (pun intended), and Tee’s direct honesty. I find myself exhaling for the first time in hours, reaching up to rub at my sweaty forehead. I tried to find time between training and dancing for a shower or bath, but Dee grabbed my elbow straight after lunch and brought me here.

“Yeah, well, I accidentally stabbed him in the kidney and almost killed him.” I shrug my shoulders loosely as the scent of blueberries and fresh-cut flowers fills my nostrils. Jesus. Every dude in Underland smells good enough to eat and looks it, too. No wonder I can’t keep my hands to myself. “Okay, so I don’t know if I actually stabbed his kidney, but it sounds more dramatic that way, right?”

Dee chuckles beside me as Lar raises a pale brow, tilting his head to one side as he studies me.

“Getting the Hatter under your thumb so quickly, I’m impressed,” Lar breathes, his white and gold jacket draped loosely over his shoulders. He folds his stained-glass wings together behind his back.

“Gossip travels quickly around here, doesn’t it?” I ask, unable to pull my attention from Lar’s gaze. As glorious as the ballroom is, it doesn’t compare to the beauty of his face. He has high, fine cheekbones, a gloriously full lower lip, and long lashes framing his pale eyes. There’s something about the way he holds his mouth, lips just slightly parted, that intrigues me. It’s like he’s always on the edge of asking a question, like there’s a question mark resting on the tip of his tongue. “Although I’d dare say the March Hare is the one you should watch out for. Sometimes, he’s not just the Hatter’s right hand—he is the Hatter.”

“He’s …” I start, and then realize what Lar’s saying. My eyes fly wide, and the Caterpillar chuckles softly, pulling out a small glass pipe in the shape of a toadstool. He snaps his fingers and then lifts his pointer finger in the air, a small flame dancing on the tip. He uses that to light his pipe, the grassy scent of marijuana quickly taking over the room. It’s not quite right though, like pot mixed with a bit of rosewater, some crushed lavender, and just a hint of chai tea spice. “He ate some of Raiden’s flesh?!”

“What do you think?” Lar replies in a low, cool tone that helps soothe away some of my anxiety. He takes a long drag before passing the pipe my way, exhaling beautiful blue smoke from between his lips. I’m about to tell him no, because as much as I want to get high, I have a feeling that could also get me killed in this palace of hell. “Just a little bit goes on a long way,” he tells me, the edge of his mouth twitching in a smile. “I can’t properly teach you to dance if you don’t take any.”

“What is this?” I ask as I glance over at Dee, but he’s shaking his head and putting his hands up.

“Just a bit of whiting,” Dee says as I raise an eyebrow. “But I can’t have any. I have to keep both feet firmly on the ground, so I can play the piano for you.”

“On the ground?” I ask as I glance back at Lar, and finally take the pipe from his outstretched fingers. Our fingertips brush together, and a warmth fills me, traveling down my arm and into my chest, making my heart beat. I jerk my hand back and cradle the pipe in my palm. “Isn’t a whiting a type of fish? You know, like salmon or trout.”

“Just like a quadrille can be a card game or a dance, so can a whiting be a fish or a magical plant.” Lar taps the side of the glass pipe with a fingernail. “Take a hit, Sunshine, and I’ll show you what it means to join the dance.”

‘Good luck,’ Dee says, leaning in to give me a kiss on the cheek. His mouth lingers, turning the relatively chaste moment into something so much more. His wing dips down and brushes along my bare arm, making me shiver, before he finally retreats, moving over to a massive red and white grand piano in the corner. Dee stretches his fingers and his wings out as he sits down to play.

“Good luck?” I ask Lar, turning back to him as I lift the pipe to my mouth and inhale. I close my eyes as I do it, feeling the hot smoke curl its way into my lungs, the taste of lavender and chai clinging to my lips. As soon as I breathe out, I feel it hit me, this lightheaded, airy sensation that makes me feel like I’m floating. “What’s he talking about?”

The Caterpillar just smiles at me, takes the pipe, and sets it on a small glass table next to a gramophone. When he holds out his hand, I hesitate to take it.

“I haven’t forgotten about Raiden and March,” I say, and Lar’s smile turns into a confident smirk, like I’ve taken the bait. Exhaling sharply, I put my hand in his and watch his pale fingers curl around my own. It’s enough to make a girl swoon—if I were the swooning type, that is. I am most definitely not.

“I mentioned that little tidbit all of two minutes ago,” Lar says as he leads me into the center of the room. “I wouldn’t have expected you to have forgotten already.” I roll my eyes because he knows what I mean. What a dick.

As I pause beneath the largest of the five chandeliers in the room, I wish suddenly that I’d worn a dress. Dee suggested it, but nooooo, I had to be a rebel. Damn it.

‘Sunshine,’ Lar says, releasing my hand, and then taking a bow. When he stands up, he whips his jacket off his shoulders, revealing a short-sleeved sky blue tunic underneath. He then shakes it out and tosses it behind him, spreading his wings briefly like he’s trying to hide the garment from me. I never see it hit the floor; when Lar folds his wings together again, the jacket is gone. Magic. It’s everywhere in Underland. “Tell me: do you know how to waltz?”

‘I don’t know how to dance for shit,’ I reply, feeling my cheeks warm slightly. I’ve never been much of a dancer, not even a social dancer. But I have read about a million books with characters who attend balls and dance their asses off with noble princes. Does that count?

Dee starts to play some sad, slow sort of song, his fingers dancing across the ivory keys as a card servant I hadn’t noticed before begins to pluck at a harp with its too-human fingers. I can’t look at its face, no freaking way. If I do, I’ll get too creeped out and leave before my lesson has even begun.

‘Just follow along and don’t worry about it for now,’ Lar says, placing one warm hand on my hip and curling the fingers of the other through my own. I find myself licking my lips and avoiding any sort of eye contact. We’re standing far too close for that. Besides, he smells like tobacco and blueberries, a toxic sort of combination that makes my heart flutter. ‘You’re thinking too hard,’ he tells me as we start to sway, and I end up stepping on his foot.

‘Oops, sorry,’ I say as I cringe and struggle with where to place my left hand. Lar sweeps his right up my side, making me shiver, and takes hold of it, placing it on his right shoulder. He just smiles at me, earrings swaying with the motion of our bodies. He holds his wings just high enough that the curled tips brush the ground. ‘I’m sort of a dance-virgin.’

Lar smirks at me, his eyes going half-lidded as the chandeliers flare to life, brightening up the room before the sky is completely dark outside.

‘Don’t apologize for being inexperienced, only for refusing to learn. Seems to me like you’re trying plenty hard.’ He spins me around as Dee picks up the pace on the piano, giving us a bouncier tune than I’d expected. I have no idea what one dances a quadrille or a quintrille to, but I suppose I’ll soon figure that shit out.

‘There’s certainly a lot to, uh, take in,’ I say as Lar picks up our speed. He’s right though: when I’m not focusing on what I’m doing, I have no problem keeping up. As soon as I let myself get laser-focused on his feet, and my feet, and that yummy smell of his … that’s when shit gets fucked up.

‘Don’t think too hard,’ Lar whispers, moving his hand from my hip to tap at my chin. I lift my face up to look at him as we make our way around the dance floor. ‘And don’t think too little, either. Just enough to point yourself in the right direction. Once you’ve done that, you have to learn to trust yourself.’

‘So you’re a seer and a wiseman?’ I ask as the Caterpillar starts to guide my feet with his own, pushing me back with his shoe, or to the side, or beckoning me forward by hooking my ankle. It’s a little unorthodox, I have to admit, but I’m not really thinking about dancing anymore. I’m just looking at him. He has big, round eyes, but they seem to be in a near perpetual half-lidded state. His mouth is generous and full, lips pink, skin pale, and that hair … it’s blonde, but when you look at it just right, it tints blue. I wonder if he really is a faerie?

‘I’m a slave,’ he says with a loose shrug of his shoulders, spinning me around again. If I had a dress on, the fabric would swish around my calves right now. Damn it. I should’ve just worn the fucking dress. That easy, fantastical high I felt when I took a drag on the pipe amplifies with each movement we make, promising that I’m in for a serious trip. ‘I’m whatever the King wants me to be.’

‘You’re a prisoner, too, huh? Who isn’t?’

‘The damn cat,’ Lar says in a soft voice. It’s not weak, just … quiet. Like he expects the world to shush up and listen to him. Considering his talents, I don’t think that’s much of a request. ‘And the Duke. I think he actually likes Red.’

‘Anyone else?’ I ask, thinking of Tee and Dee. They are most certainly prisoners. Slaves, actually.

‘You know Rab hasn’t much of a choice either. Although I think he likes his place in the palace now. There are bets out there to decide if he was crazy before or only after the King made him a Rabbit.’

‘Psychopath? Or sociopath?’ I ask as the music slows, stops, and then starts up again. Lar doesn’t skip a beat, keeping us moving before I can trip on my own feet.

‘Both?’ he asks with a lift of one, pale brow. There’s something soothing about his hand on my hip, this guiding presence that makes me feel like I’m being taken care of. But, like, not in a creepy way. ‘Rab is an easy man to get along with, but a terrible man to cross.’

‘He shot my schoolmate in the face,’ I say, looking past Lar and feeling my eyes blur with the memory. God, that feels like it happened ages ago. When was it really? A week and a half ago? For fuck’s sake.

A week and a half back home without me … Dad and Edith are probably frantic. I just hope they haven’t told Mom. Being trapped in jail with no way to look for me, that very well might kill her.

‘King’s orders,’ Lar says simply, shrugging his shoulders. After meeting the royal prick, I guess I can see why they’re so eager to do what he says: he’s not insane, he’s just evil.

Our steps get more elaborate as we go, until I feel like I’m really and truly dancing for the first time in my life. My hair billows out behind me in a blonde and rainbow wave as we make another turn on the dance floor.

‘This is easier than I thought,’ I say, just before I trip over Lar’s foot and end up stumbling into him. He catches me and helps me upright, my face ridiculously close to his. His breath is sweet, fanning against my lips. I have to swallow hard to get past the sudden lump in my throat.

‘Nothing is so hard you couldn’t figure it out, mighty Alice,’ Lar says, folding his wings together and then opening them slowly, like he’s putting on a show. I’m not sure that he even realizes he’s doing it though.

‘Well, most things anyway,’ I say as I right myself, brush my sweaty palms down the front of my red button-up shirt, and take a deep breath. Lar and I get into position again as Dee starts up a new song, this fast-paced piano solo that makes me want to move.

‘I’ve never met a problem I couldn’t solve,’ he says as I cock an eyebrow.

‘The King of Hearts?’ I hazard, but Lar just shakes his head, long blue-blonde strands of hair falling across his forehead. His earrings catch the light as he moves, too, and I can’t help but admire them. He has a fine-boned look to his face, this aristocratic air that begs attention. Jewelry suits him.

‘He’s not a problem,’ he says with a long sigh, blinking pale lashes at me. ‘The King of Hearts is the best ruler Underland has right now. Compared to the King of Spades, and the King of Clubs, he’s practically a saint. I’ll serve him without resistance,’ Lar starts, leaning in and putting his lips against my ear, his breath tickling my skin, ‘until I find someone better.’

I feel weightless, with the Caterpillar this close to my face. It’s quite obvious to my body right now that a slight turn of my face would put my lips to his. We could kiss right now. My tingling lips tell me it’s the right thing to do, that I should try. After all, when am I ever going to feel like this again, like I’m floating across the dance floor?

Lar chuckles, like he can sense what I’m feeling. When I do turn my head and kiss him, it’s with laughter dancing on both our lips. My mouth presses softly against his, and he doesn’t press the moment, letting me come to him. My fingers squeeze his right shoulder, curl around his left hand. His tightens on my hip, letting me know that he’s enjoying the moment as much as I am.

Barely spoke ten sentences to the guy, and you’re shoving your tongue down his throat, my brain quips, but I’m not listening to her. When am I ever going to get this chance again? I’m surrounded by attractive men that want me, that think I’m the literal answer to all their prayers. Am I supposed to keep fighting this? Am I supposed to hate it?

I don’t.

Lar teases the tip of my tongue with his own before pulling back and leaving me breathless. My chest aches as his wings open wide, a gold, black, and blue backdrop to … the sky? I blink a few times and look down.

I shouldn’t have looked down.

With a squeak, I realize we’re floating far above the dance floor, our heads just a foot or so from the domed glass ceiling of the ballroom.

“Lar,” I choke out, but he doesn’t seem concerned, twirling me around as easily up here as he did on the marble floor below. My feet continue to follow his, mimicking the steps of the dance as best I can. I’m afraid to stop. What if I fall? “I have a thing about heights.”

“Will you, won’t you join the dance?” the Caterpillar whispers, tugging on one of his earrings. The blue jewel lights up, and then dozens of wall sconces burst into brilliant flame, casting beautiful shadows across the walls and floor. “When the King asks you that at the ball, you take a curtsy and reply ‘What matters it how far we go?’”

My eyes get caught on Lar’s as we twirl through the air, dancing on the wind as easily as if it were the earth beneath our feet. Next time these people ask me to smoke a pipe, I won’t question it. Prophetic visions and magical air dances? Sign me up.

As we move, Lar’s wings sparkle, the colors in the center shifting and adjusting until I’m looking at something … carnal. There are two naked people in this image, playing out like a porno inside the confines of his beautiful wings. Just like last time, I can see, hear, smell, almost taste that vision. It’s so real that I have to shake my head to remind myself that it isn’t actually happening.

No, I’m just watching two people fuck.

“A prophecy,” I start as I squint and … realize that the two figures in the image are me and Lar. I squeak and jerk back, slipping from Lar’s arms. Almost immediately, I begin to fall, tumbling through the air like I’m on my way down the damn Rabbit-Hole again. Lar tucks his wings in tight, dives down, and snatches me from midair, setting us both gently down on the marble floor.

When our eyes meet, I feel my cheeks heat.

Lar looks at me for a long moment before raising his head and narrowing his eyes at something over my shoulder while Dee finishes up the music and turns on his bench seat to follow the other man’s gaze. There’s a tingling between my shoulder blades, and it takes me a moment to realize that’s because there are eyes boring into my back. When I glance over my shoulder, I find Brennin Red watching me with cold, dark eyes.

‘I’m starting to get the feeling you don’t like me,’ I call out, putting my hands on my hips and staring the asshole down.

‘You’re a deplorable dancer; the court will notice.’ He runs a finger absently along the scar at the corner of his lip. ‘Oh well. Nobody expects the Alice to be … cultured. I suppose it’ll have to do. We don’t have a lot of time.’

‘Is your stupid ball that important?’ I ask, moving across the marble floors toward him. I get the idea that this is a guy that thrives on manipulation and intimidation, and I refuse to play into his hand.

‘The Ball of Broken Hearts and Stolen Tarts is a send-off for my soldiers, the people who inhabit this world that means nothing to you. The Walrus and the Carpenter are mobilizing an army on our border. You wouldn’t want to see what they’d do if given free rein to terrorize the kingdom. You might be interested in disappearing through the Looking-Glass, but the rest of us are stuck here, Alice.’

‘I’m not responsible for the pain of an entire world!’ I shout as Brennin—or Red or whatever his stupid name is—turns and leaves the room with an entourage of guards swarming after him. The White Knight is with him, but at least she gives me a sympathetic look as she follows the King out. He’s wearing that stupid suit again. I’m guessing it’s his version of casual wear. Prick. He probably sleeps with a stick shoved up his ass.

‘I don’t think Red likes you, Allison-who-isn’t-Alice,’ Dee says, moving up to stand beside me. He puts his hat back on and pulls it down firmly over his mussy hair. With Lar on one side and Dee on the other, their beautiful wings resting behind them, I feel pretty plain and boring. At home, I was the weirdo. Here, I’m the beige house with the white picket fence.

‘Good, because I really don’t like him,’ I say as Tee strides in the open door and makes his way straight over to us. He pauses for a moment as he glances at the Caterpillar.

‘Continue your plotting,’ Lar drawls, reaching down to play with his gold bracelets. ‘I already know what you’re up to. Don’t worry: I won’t tell.’

Tee narrows his amethyst eyes before looking over at me. I can’t believe I had sex with him. What was I thinking? Now I’m invested in what happens to the guy. Life must be a hell of a lot easier for assholes like the King and the Hatter.

‘The Looking-Glass,’ he starts, giving Lar another skeptical look. With a scoff and a shake of his head, Tee turns back to me. ‘It’s inside a Game.’

‘Fuuuuuuuck,’ Dee says, sliding his hands down either side of his face. ‘How the hell are we supposed to deal with that?!’

‘Uhh, what’s a Game?’ I ask, crinkling my brows up. Lar is whistling, so I’m going to guess that this shit is bad. I’ve already flown over the forest hanging from a giant bat, so I don’t think they’re going to be able to say much to surprise me.

‘It’s enchanted by a curseworker,’ Tee says, putting his hands on his hips and looking at the floor.

‘And what is it?’ I ask as Dee runs the tip of one finger along the leather brim of his hat.

‘A Game can be … a lot of things,’ he says with a loose shrug of his shoulders. ‘But in the King’s case, it’s probably chess.’ He lifts his blue eyes up to the glass ceiling above us as the giant bat passes by overhead with a screech that cuts straight into my brain. Speak of the devil …

Twinkle, twinkle little bat, my ass.

“A chess game with life-size pieces,” the Caterpillar adds, looking at my mouth for much longer than is really appropriate. His stare makes my lips tingle, and I shift unconsciously, doing my best not to think about that vision in his wings, the one that just showed me making love to the guy. “And life-size appetites.”

“In short, they’re armed, alive, and very, very angry,” Tee adds as I look between the three men.

‘An entire set of aggressive, people-size chess pieces?’ I ask as I raise my eyebrows. ‘And what idiot curseworker was responsible for that shit?’

‘I was,’ a voice says from near the door. I look up and find a beautiful woman cloaked in flowing red robes with a big frilly white collar around her neck. The way she smiles at me, I can tell we’re not going to be friends.

‘Who’s that?’ I ask, feeling a small spark of fear. This is only the second woman I’ve spoken to since I got to Castle Heart.

And I don’t like her.

Ugh, I’m trying not to act on my patriarchal-blessed internal misogyny, but all of a sudden, I’m nervous. Like, really fucking nervous. A bunch of alpha dude assholes, I can deal with. But women are smart, creative, and logical. That scares the crap outta me.

‘The Knave of Hearts,’ Tee says, curling his hands into fists at his sides.

‘A knave is a jack, right?’ I ask, and I feel like I should get serious points for that. Doubt Edith would’ve known the answer. And Fred … I wonder if Fred could’ve been the Alice?

‘She’s like, a second-in-command, as Underland doesn’t consider males intelligent or rational enough to run kingdoms, yet at the same time shuns anyone who isn’t of royal blood,” Dee adds. “All the kingdoms have male rulers now with no queens, so the Knaves act as backup. They can veto any decision the King makes.’

Oh … dear.

The Knave sweeps into the room with a pair of men on either side of her. One is dressed in gold with a thick brown-gold beard, sideburns, and mustache, while the other has long white hair scooped into a bun on the back of his head. He doesn’t look old though, maybe thirty at most. They stick to her like glue as she makes her way across the empty marble dance floor toward us.

‘Those are her husbands, the Lion and the Unicorn,’ Tee growls out, and I can already tell he doesn’t like this woman any better than I do. I stare at her, her silky brunette hair hanging nearly to the floor, her spring green eyes focused on mine.

‘Why are they called the Lion and the Unicorn?’ I whisper, but then, I’m standing next to a dude named Caterpillar, and a pair of twins named Tweedledee and Tweedledum, soooo … Stupid question much?

‘The Lion has all that facial hair,’ Dee says with a chuckle, catching my eye and winking, ‘and the Unicorn, well, it’s not because his horn is on his forehead, if you catch my drift.’ I clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle a chuckle, and the Knave narrows her eyes on me. I’m wracking my brain trying to remember any of these characters from the original books.

The Knave … pretty sure he was accused of stealing the Queen of Hearts’ freshly baked tarts. He was a minor character though. And the Lion and the Unicorn? They must be from Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There. I’ll have to check in that copy Tee gave me. There’s no such thing as being too prepared here.

‘Aren’t you pretty?’ the Knave says as she pauses next to me, a good half a foot shorter than me at least. Her husbands, however, are huge. I have to look up to meet the cold, silver eyes of the Unicorn and the equally drab rust-red of the Lion. ‘These are my husbands, Rook and Knight.’ She gestures at the Lion first, and then the Unicorn. But considering the Mad Hatter’s name is Raiden, the King is Brennin, and the freaking Duke’s name is North, I’m not surprised. Normal names, weird nicknames. It works with the Underland vibe.

In fact … I sense a chess reference. Isn’t the entire second Alice book just one big chess game? My chest feels tight suddenly, like a queen on a black and white board. Fuck. Is Tee sure the Looking-Glass is trapped in a Game? Because it feels like I am already one of the players.

‘I could say the same for you,’ I reply, smiling tightly. I could say the same, but I’m not going to. I’m hoping the Knave will miss my play on words, but nobody here ever does, do they?

‘The King doesn’t seem to like you,’ the Knave quips bluntly, stepping back so she can look me over. ‘You are a bit scruffy, and awfully uncouth. Although it’s not a surprise why the Hatter is interested.’

‘A mercenary powerful enough to topple kingdoms? That’s an offensive thing to say,’ I blurt, knowing that I shouldn’t start shit with a person I just met. Who knows? Maybe we could be friends? Lord knows I don’t have many back home. Before the Knave can speak again, I exhale and hold out a hand. ‘Name’s Allison Liddell. And you are …’

‘Ines Fripon,’ she says, looking at my hand like it’s diseased. She lifts her green eyes up to mine, and I see it right there in her beautiful irises: she’s jealous of me. Guess it makes sense, considering I’m supposedly the next Queen of Hearts. I get this little mean girl thrill out of the moment, and then shove it down.

No, that’s something Edith would do, use this woman’s insecurities against her. I’m not like that; I don’t want to be like that.

‘Nice to meet you,’ I say, forcing a genuine smile. It almost hurts my mouth. Guess I’m still a cynical asshole at heart. Dee looks at me like I’ve sprouted a second head—something I feel could easily happen here in Underland—while Tee frowns hard. Lar brushes some of his pale hair behind one ear, showing off his silver hoops at the top of his ear. He appears contemplative, looking between the two of us like he’s got money riding on our interaction.

‘We came to see if you needed any further assistance with the quintrille? It’s a very important dance, you know,’ the Unicorn, err Knight, says. Think that I might go mad trying to memorize all these fucking weird-ass names. ‘It’s vital for building alliances and friendships within the court.’

He smiles at me, and I swear, he’s got big, horsey front teeth. Maybe that’s why he got the nickname Unicorn? Just so long as he doesn’t ask me to start believing in him, we’re good.

‘Allison is a quick learner,’ Lar says, lifting both brows. ‘I think she’ll make a fine dance partner.’

‘Well, we’ll see,’ the Knave of Hearts says with a little titter of a laugh. She looks over at Dee like she’s just seeing him for the first time, and her lips curl up at the sight of his wings. As soon as he sees her looking, I notice his shoulders stiffening up. ‘Glad to see you and your brother are getting along now.’ Her sneer changes to a smile as she flicks her eyes up and down my boys. ‘Because I’d hate to see what I might do the second time around.’

The Knave turns and leaves, gesturing for her husbands to follow after.

‘Wait,’ I start, looking between the twins. ‘Is that …’

‘The witch that cursed us?’ Tee asks in a low voice. ‘Yes.’

Oh.

Well.

No wonder I hated the cunt from moment one. Never mind all that shit I said about the benefit of the doubt and whatnot. Bitch is going down.