The Cat’s ears flatten. A low growl rumbles from his chest. “Now see here, witch—”
The A.D. stupidly knocks his knife against the table, chanting, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”
A pair of narrowed, blue eyes from the tiny woman sitting to his left shuts the thief right up.
“If we’re assigning ourselves roles, then, I suppose I ought to be the bloody taste tester,” Mary mutters. “Or at least the sniffer. I’m the only one of this motley lot with the knowhow to figure out antidotes and poisons, and I’ll be damned if anybody slips something by me.” Her smile is feral. “Maybe I’ll be able to pick up a pretty for my collection if I’m lucky.”
Alice’s consternation softens considerably, even if wariness leaves her silent.
Brom folds his napkin and sets it next to his bowl. “Finn and I will serve as the equivalent of your Ferzes.”
“If present in public functions, even if he has no ruling powers,” Alice says quietly yet firmly, her attention on my father, “as my official consort, the Prince of Adámas is expected to publicly take his place in his Diamond throne.”
I think, had I been drinking the tea in my hands, I just might have choked on it. As it is, a bit sloshes over the side, onto my jeans. She can’t be serious, can she? I’m just—I know she gave me a title, but I’m just a hick kid from Missouri. Hell, I’m wearing jeans, another plaid shirt, and that ugly knit hat. I don’t look like someone who ought to be on a throne.
“It would be best if you had your guns,” the White King is saying to me. “One never knows when an excellent weapon will come in handy during such situations.” When I glance down the length at the table and meet his eerie, nearly colorless eyes, I’m taken aback to discover he is utterly unperturbed at the thought of me sitting in one of Wonderland’s thrones like I’m his equal. I’ve never felt less than him before, or uneasy about his kingly status, but I’ve never had to sit in a throne before, either.
“Victor as the second Diamonds Ferz, then,” Brom offers smoothly. My brother says nothing to being anointed as the equivalent of a military advisor. He’s still wearing those damn sunglasses, hunched over the table like some goth kid, intent on listening to Bauhaus’ whole catalogue before finishing his rehydrated breakfast. “Ms. Brandon and Mr. Dawkins will round out the group as members of the Diamonds’ household.” The hint of a smile peeps from beneath Brom’s mustache and beard. “After all, it isn’t a lie.”
Alice clears her throat. She fingers the edge of the white bone china plate before her. “If you choose to come, it must be upon your own volition. And it must be with the clear understanding that Wonderland’s monarchs may not necessarily act in a way that any of you may be familiar with.”
“You can’t get rid of us so easily, luv.” The A.D. kicks his feet up onto the table, leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head. Several of the Wonderlanders present murmur in outrage over the idiot addressing one of the queens so disrespectfully, even if the sentiment was appreciated.
Marianne takes swift action, snatching his napkin. Using it as a shield, she shoves his feet off the table and then smacks him across the face with the linen. “Your manners leave much to be desired, Jack.”
He leers at her. “I make up for it in so many other ways. I can show you, if you like. Take a trip over to the tent with me and we’ll have a go around.”
As his meaning becomes clear, Marianne legitimately, genuinely turns green. The napkin in her hand becomes less of a weapon and more of a barf bag when she covers her mouth and gags.
Mary cackles brightly. The Librarian and Brom both issue audible sighs.
The Nightrider leans in closer to one of the Ferzes. “Perhaps,” he murmurs thoughtfully, “these fellows are more like Wonderlanders than we previously thought.”
“I was right, you know.”
Alice sets the polishing rag down and holds one of her daggers aloft. It glints, a sharp, clear ray of light in the hazy, misty gray of the morning. The storm has quieted for the time being. “About?”
Mary motions toward a nearby tent, her cheeks scarlet. A large group of men and women lounge before a campfire, drinking tea and who knows what else. Some are sleeping. Others are kissing. Some are—well, some ought to go back into the tent.
Alice barely steals a glance. “Did you talk to the White physician about any antidotes he might have in stock?”
“I cannot believe you guys,” Mary hisses. “The A.D. is over there! With the Hatter! Doing—whatever he’s doing. Right before we’re to leave!”
I’ll be damned. She’s right. He’s smack in between the Hatter and the Hare, his shoulders rubbing against their shirtless ones. Some nubile young lady perches on his lap, sucking on his neck. If I’m not mistaken, her hand is down his pants, too. Or is that the Hatter’s hand?
Well, now.
Victor mutters, “I think it’s pretty clear what he’s doing.”
Mary’s outrage falters as her attention shifts to my brother. She squeaks, “It’s in the open.”
“Sometimes, Mary,” Alice says fondly, “you are a delightful quagmire.”
“That . . . that orgy of theirs has gone on nonstop. The whole time you and the White King were gone, it raged on. The A.D. hooked up with them on Day One, just like I predicted.” Mary’s voice shakes, as if she’s telling us the most scandalous story ever. “And that Dormouse fellow. . .” She visibly shudders. “Why didn’t you warn me about him?”
Alice laughs. “Ah. You met him, did you?”
Mary’s glare could melt glass. “Poor Marianne has been hiding the entire time.”
The smile Alice offers turns wicked. “But not you?”
Mary shoves Victor. “You should go get the A.D. Remind him why he’s here.”
“Sorry, love,” He disentangles himself. “I refuse to be the fun police.”
He sounds like the Victor I know.
“Is there something the matter?”
We glance up from our weapons to find the White King, his Ferzes, and a page. The military advisers carry two hatboxes on white-velvet pillows while the page teeters beneath a huge box.
“Not at all.” Alice stands; I follow.
The White King nods, absently rubbing the back of his neck. “Good, good.” He coughs into a fist. “I come bearing gifts, considering the day’s events.”
Alice tilts her head, a question marring her brow.
“When you requested a meeting with our fellow Courts, I knew that you were well aware of the odds already stacked against you for daring such a public appearance. The Diamonds crown is in New York City, not Wonderland. The Queen of Diamonds deserves a crown as benefitting her legal and rightful place in Wonderland.” He opens one of the hatboxes and removes a glittering crown of gold and diamonds. “Immediately after our conversation, I sent riders to Anacites to retrieve several items. Upon their return, I had one of your smiths use some of the hereditary Diamonds jewels to create this for you. He worked day and night to ensure it be ready for today. I know it is not your original crown, but . . . I hoped that, considering it contained your Court’s history, it would suffice.”
Alice solemnly accepts the crown, her face devoid of any emotion.
“What is Anacites?” Mary asks.
Alice does not look away from the headpiece. “It is the name of the Diamonds palace.” The twist of her lips is fragile. “I do not think I am vain to say it is the loveliest of all of Wonderlands Courts.”
One of the Ferzes grunts. “Not at all, Your Majesty. Anacites remains unrivaled.”
“Your lucky dress is here, if you so wish to wear it.” The White King motions toward the large box the page is collapsing beneath.
Alice clears her throat, crown still balanced in her hands. “Your thoughtfulness is much appreciated.”
He places a fist over his heart and bows. Alice turns to me. “Will you do the honors?”
I only momentarily ogle the crown she offers before taking it. She does not lower her head when I nestle the gold and jew
els into her hair.
When I stand back, she shines brighter than any ray of light.
The White King opens the second hatbox. “While my men were at Anacites, I asked them to retrieve the Adámas crown from the vaults.”
The what now?
In his hands is a circlet of gold, dotted with fat diamonds. He passes it to Alice. “I must go and finish readying myself for the day’s journey. Prince Finn, I have sent a suit tailored for your Court to your room. There is a specific decorum to our meetings, I am afraid, that we all must adhere to.”
Alice dips her chin, too overcome, I think, to say anything else. The Ferzes and page swiftly bow and scuttle off behind their king as he strides back to the main pavilion.
Mary waits until the Wonderlanders are gone before she says, “Well? Aren’t you going to put it on?”
Victor snorts. “Yeah. He’s going to look smashing: bald with a crown.”
Mary smacks his arm. “You’re just jealous.”
I’m all too aware of the knit hat tugged low over my ears. Of the lack of hair. Of my jeans, of my flannel. Thanks to this morning’s application of healing spray, holes and scabs no longer riddle my scalp and neck, but I know what I’ve been through recently. How I’m not quite whole anymore. But for some odd reason, Alice’s smile is wide and genuine, and I can feel it all the way into my soul.
Alice tugs the knit hat off, revealing the scrub of downy gold. She runs a hand across it once, twice, her smile dreamy. Then she settles the crown onto my head, adjusting it so I barely feel its weight, which seems impossible, considering how many large diamonds circle the damn thing.
So quietly, so only I can hear, she whispers against the shell of my ear, “My heart is so full, seeing you wear this.”
Mary tells Victor, “What do you mean, bald?! Finn has more hair than you, you big lout!”
SITUATED IN THE EXACT center of Wonderland and completely round and carved from polished, gleaming green stone, the Courts’ shared yet neutral castle isn’t very big. On the ride here, the Nightrider informed me its only purpose is for meetings like today’s. The permanent staff, supplied by all four Courts, is minimal and meant more for maintenance than anything else. There are no soldiers or guards, as no one can claim the nameless keep. If a meeting lasts for more than one day, monarchs must bring enough food and staff for their stay.
As for this day, the Nightrider was sure to add, “We’ll even send a pair of stable hands along with you all, to take care of the horses.”
I’ll admit it was bizarre having a comment like that come from a Unicorn.
The inside of the keep resembles an onion and its rings. The outer halls are filled with tapestries representing Wonderland’s past and present Courts, as well as pedestals filled with bits of history, such as swords, suits of armors, and books.
Voices waft out of the large hall situated in the dead center of the keep. The Cheshire-Cat leaps into the White King’s arms. “How kind that they all came early in order to get a look at the Queen of Diamonds.”
Alice says nothing even as she adjusts a pair of blades in her boots.
She is regal and utterly gorgeous in her supposedly lucky dress. Crafted of shimmering raw, royal-blue silk and peppered with enough diamonds to leave me wondering just how heavy the outfit actually is, when Alice walks, the train forms into the shape of a flying bird. It defies proper explanation, but it’s safe to say that she and the dress are mesmerizing.
If she were to take flight, I would do my best to try to find a way to fly after her.
“It’s best you go in together,” the Cat is saying. “We’ll want to reinforce the political alliance between the White King and Queen of Diamonds is unchanged and that our Courts are still intertwined, not absorbed as rumors claim.” His ears twitch. “If one is to be targeted, both must be.” Yellow eyes flick toward me. “You’ll want to be careful, boy. You will be of much interest to those within. Never forget that, while you are an asset to the Queen, you are also her greatest liability.”
Mary snorts. Jack titters. I don’t bother responding to such an asinine observation, but it’s clear the White King’s Grand Advisor knows he put a paw over the line.
Alice absently scratches the Cat’s head. “Finn is more than equipped to handle anything a Wonderlander might throw at him.”
The Cat tilts its ear, providing Alice better access to what must be a favorite spot. “You New Yorkers simply follow what His Majesty’s attendants do. Do not dally, do not ogle or show fear. Every single person in there loves to devour the weak. You. Witch.” His stubby tail twitches toward the Librarian, and I can’t help but wonder why she hasn’t set him straight for the constant insults. “We will walk immediately behind Their Majesties. Ensure that no one attacks from behind.”
“Perhaps I shall carry you, little kitten,” the Librarian mewls, “and ensure no one attacks you from behind. We can’t have you losing any more of your tail, can we?”
His ears flatten as he studies her with his overly large eyes. But then he surprises us all by leaping from the White King’s arms to hers.
The A.D. whistles quietly.
One of the Ferzes instructs the door attendant, a portly, elderly Lizard, to announce Alice and Jace. It scrambles to yank open the pair of gilded doors, nearly breaking off its tail in the process.
In a surprisingly gravelly voice, the Lizard shouts, “Presenting His Majesty, the White King. Presenting Her Majesty, the Queen of Diamonds. Presenting His Highness, the Prince of Adámas.”
Just before Alice and Jace walk into the room, she loops her arm through mine. Linked together, we step into the belly of the beast, and the inhabitants fall completely silent as their attentions swivel in our direction.
Before us are six sets of thrones arranged like the hands of a clock, each one set ten minutes apart, tapestries and insignias signifying Courtly allegiances. Behind the thrones, various representatives sit upon raised platforms. As for the thrones themselves, four sets are vibrant. The other two are dusty and ignored, as if they exist in a long-forgotten slice of space and time none of the keep’s staff are able to access. Partway across the parquet floor, which mimics a humungous chessboard, Jace releases Alice’s arm, bows deeply, and pivots toward an empty chair. Alice remains in the middle of the room as he does so, her face devoid of any emotion. Her fingers, though, curl tightly around my bicep, warning me to be on my guard.
The White King’s throne is white—white-leather padded seat and backing, white wood, white opals for decoration. In the second throne is an extremely pale, gaunt woman with hair filled with white roses, swathed in a ridiculously voluminous gown of white silk and velvet that billows over the arms of her ornate throne.
Truthfully, she resembles an exploding marshmallow.
At her feet is a white bag with snowy feather spilling from the top. They cover the floor, the bottom of her dress, and the tips of her razor-sharp, white, pointy boots that peek from beneath the silk. In her lap is what appears to be an animal of undistinguishable origin, or at least, what once was an animal. She tugs a needle and thread throughout the graying skin even as her eyes hone dangerously in on Alice, her upper lip curling with scorn.
So this is Jace’s counterpart, the White Queen.
Alice subtly tilts her head toward the Librarian, her eyes drifting to the Cheshire-Cat. Without another word, the Librarian strolls over to the White King and passes over her hitchhiker.
Jace says loudly, clearly, “I thank both you and the Queen of Diamonds for the excellent care bestowed upon my most trusted advisor.”
The Cheshire-Cat lays his ears back, hissing—not at the Librarian, but at the White Queen. In turn, when her attention snaps from Alice to the Cat, she hisses right back. It’s eerie as fuck, but I’ll give it to the Cat, who doesn’t recoil one bit. After a tense, mini-stare-off, he hops off of Jace’s lap, significantly enlarging before positioning himself at his king’s feet.
A bonnet-wearing Sheep whispers into the White Que
en’s ear.
Alice squeezes my arms and we resume our journey past the White thrones, past one of the neglected sets (perhaps the Clubs?) to a pair of lacquered chairs glittering with thousands of diamonds. She settles into the throne on the right, leaving me to drop into the one on the left. It’s surprisingly comfortable for something encrusted with gems—the padding, which feels a bit like memory foam, is covered with supple leather. As the White contingency takes its place behind Jace, the rest of our party joins us, positioning themselves on the dais behind where we sit.
Of all the places I’ve gone, of all the things I’ve done, I think this is the most surreal.
A Frog, dressed in tails and donning a powdered wig, marches to the middle of the hall. He holds aloft a small golden bell. “So begins the temporary peace between the four Courts of Wonderland.” He jiggles the bell, and its peal rings surprisingly loud against the curved walls. The Frog croaks twice and departs.
“Well, well,” drawls the man directly before us. Red-haired and bearded, a weird fur stole wrapped around his neck, he lounges with a leg dangling over one chair leg, no doubt to highlight the overly obvious bulge. He twirls the corner of a fantastically styled mustache exactly as a cartoon villain would. Dressed in varying shades of scarlet, cherry, burgundy, brick, and wine, I peg him right away as the Red King. “There had been rumors, of course, of you sneaking into Wonderland like a thief in the night, but I did not actually think you would be so. . .” His overly bright eyes twinkle as he takes Alice in. “Well, brazen to do so, but then, that was naive of me, wasn’t it? You, my darling, gorgeous Diamonds, are as brazen as the jabberwocky’s tooth is long—and just as sharp, too.”
Next to me, Alice leans back in her throne, fiddling with a dagger I’ve never seen before, one whose hilt is covered with diamonds. I’ve never seen the smile lifting her lips, either. It’s more than a bit wicked, more than a bit mad, to be honest. “How deeply touching it is to hear that you still lust so strongly after me, Red.”
The Cat catches my attention, as if to remind me to not show my hand, no matter what the cost.
The Lost Codex Page 27
