We’d met on a battlefield, when Hs were our first sparring match, a word game that endeared us to one another. I was young then, and so was he (and most certainly not the bumbling old man Victor alluded to), but that was the beginning. From that point on, each time I saw him, I fell down more than just a rabbit hole. I fell deep within Wonderland.
The first kiss we shared, and every single one from that point forward, was far more drugging than anything his world could ever produce.
And now, he’s worn my beloved necklace against his heart, just as I’d asked him to.
“You knew I went back to England.”
“You wouldn’t allow me to the hole, though,” he argues bitterly. “Or let me be there when you left. I had no idea if you truly made it through, or if you were captured beforehand.”
The wounds between us rip open. “You know why I had to go alone.”
“No. I don’t.” His stubbornness has always been irresistible to me.
I say, my words barely audible, “I couldn’t have borne it to have you there when I left. I wouldn’t have been able to follow through.”
“I searched for the hole. For months.” His fingers curl back around the gold. “Sent out parties. Offered rewards on the black market to locate it. Bargained with the Caterpillar to tell me your secrets, and then the White Rabbit. All to no avail.”
Practiced words, run through my head like chants or prayers for months, fail me when it comes time to prove their worth. We’ve been over this, but the last time was so emotional that my memory of our decisions and words is spotty at best. All I can say is, “We had no other choice.”
His head tilts to the side as he studies me. I force myself to remember that this is the White King of Wonderland. We are no longer lovers, and that was a choice we both were forced to come to, no matter how painful the execution. But still, the impulse to reach out and hold him rings strong and loud through my bones.
Love, I think, is irrational no matter how hard we try to apply logic to it. And some love, even the kind that is not meant to be, takes root and flourishes anyway.
I should not love this man, and yet I do. I always will.
“We should have given it more time. We—”
“The prophecy was clear.” I draw my hand back. Even now, even when I know I’ve finally found my true north star, one whose light and steadiness have nothing to do with madness or prophecies, touching this piece of me is too painful. “Both of our Grand Advisors were tireless in their quests to find a loophole. There were none.” Sadness tears at my chest. “The decks cannot be shuffled. Wonderland will not allow it.” Wounds so freshly scabbed over within me rip open. “We cannot ever put our selfishness above the lives of innocents. As it is, the odd number has thrown Wonderland into a tailspin. Do you not remember what the Cheshire-Cat warned us? Of the complete and utter devastation that would occur if we continue on together, with both of us residing in this land?”
He knows I’m right. He was there through it all, after all. When push came to shove, he made the same choice I did. Our lives, our feelings, mean nothing compared to millions of others. Even still, he’s hoarse when he tells me, “You leaving changed nothing, though. The only difference is that Wonderland lost one of its strongest champions.”
“I am championing it now.” I press my hand against my heart. “I am here to collect its catalyst and ensure it is safely hidden away so that no stranger can ever harm you all like they have done to other worlds.”
“The people need you here.” Fire burns in his nearly colorless eyes. “There is too much corruption and greed within the Courts.”
“They have you.” I blink back the tears forming. “It was the only reason I knew I could truly go.”
He scoffs. “I am one of seven—”
“Six.” And then, with the scars upon my heart threatening to rip open once more, “I am not a Wonderlander. I never truly belonged here. You do, though. You are exactly what Wonderland needs.”
I’ve angered him. “I would not hear you disparage yourself in such a way.”
“Did you know,” I continue, “that the food and drink from Wonderland are actually drugs to my kind?”
Confusion battles with pain. “What—?”
“It took me too long to realize it.” I shake my head. “No, that’s wrong. I learned about it from the Duchess. She was quite keen on letting me know that, even if I wanted to leave, I was a slave to the desires I found here because Wonderland has a way of keeping its non-native inhabitants mad. Several of the Court members knew this—they figured I would be unable to leave, that my head would surely be forfeit. That all of my talk of stepping back would be pointless, because they would have my death to savor.”
Dark hair swings about his head as he lets me know what he thinks of that. But we both know they would have never told him, not with such common knowledge of our relationship.
“It’s true, though.” My smile is brittle. “This place made me a drug addict. The Caterpillar procured a poison which allowed me enough just enough clarity to exit Wonderland. It took weeks back home before I could get Wonderland’s influence out of my system. I thought many a time I was going to die, the pain was so intense. I’d truly gone mad, you see. I was raving, hysterical, especially after I left here under such circumstances. I was committed to an asylum in an effort to fight my demons. That is not the person this land needs. Not somebody who has to be drugged to be effective.” Somebody who, I fear, would weaken immediately in this moment if she was still drugged.
It is his turn to swallow hard.
My fingers lace together in effort to remain free of trouble. “I cannot, no matter what I may wish otherwise, ever allow myself to return to such a state of mind. And I do not believe you would ever wish it, either.”
“I didn’t know.” Desperation tints his words. “I had no idea.”
“How could you? I’m the first of my kind that you ever met. For all you knew, we were the same.”
The space between us is cut in half. “We are.”
His unfailing idealism is part of what drew me to him like a moth to a flame. “None of that matters now. I’m—”
“Of course it matters!” His hand juts out once more, the necklace dangling. “It has always mattered!”
Nobody is safe if I don’t want them to be, the White Queen told me the day I left, flanked by the Red Queen and the Queen of Hearts in some kind of twisted collusion that lasted just long enough to ensure my ouster. Not little birds, not grinning cats, not even kings. Not even Diamond Queens and their caterpillars.
I hated that she took the creatures who decorated my banners and made them sound so weak.
“There is no future for me in Wonderland,” I tell him. “None at all. No matter what I may have once wished.”
“I love you,” he says forcefully. “And I know you love me. Do you think that nearly a year has changed that?”
It hasn’t, of course. I love him just as strongly as I always have. I will continue to love him so. But this is no storybook; our ending is not happy. No matter what I feel toward him, or he for me, it simply cannot be. It never will be. There is no loophole, no way to change our fates. He is of the White Court. I am of the Diamond. If we were to shuffle the deck . . .
No. I cannot allow myself to think about this any further. It’s too painful. And I’d been so good at putting it behind me. I dig deeper, even though the insides of my veins are collapsing in on themselves. “Nearly a year,” I remind him, “hasn’t changed the situation, either.”
His intake of breath is harsh, painfully audible in the stark quiet of the room.
“Wonderland needs you. You—”
He turns away from me, hands digging into his hair and tugging so hard I fear he might lose chunks.
“The people crave stability. You know as well as I that you are the most stable ruler the land has. You cannot fail them.”
He whirls around and grabs my hand. My necklace presses into my palm. “I have
n’t been, you know. I’ve been coming out of my skin for months, going mad for want of news of you.”
And I the same.
“Nonetheless, you are their hope.” My voice cracks. “I cannot stand in the way of that. I won’t. You have your destiny, and I have mine. Once upon a time, I thought they might cross paths, but they do not. My destiny, it seems, is elsewhere.”
“My heart will not let you go.” His forehead falls against mine. “I’ve tried. I swear, I’ve tried.”
Sobs clamor within my chest and fight their way up through my throat. But I am strong, because they stay within me.
A hand curves around my cheek. His breath shudders against my mouth. And then, before we do something selfish, he pulls back. Eyes closed, his head tilts back, a hand coming to lay across his heart. Red stains bloom from beneath his fingers and spread across the white of his shirt.
This isn’t the first time this beautiful man’s heart has broken and bled because of me. And yet, each time is just as painful as the last to see.
Sometimes, I wish he could see the pain of mine breaking, too.
“Promise me,” he whispers hoarsely, “promise me that, just because we cannot be together, it does not mean that all of this was for nothing.”
“It means everything.” I’m choking on my words, I want to weep so hard. “It always will.” I take the necklace from his hand and gently clasp it around his neck. I tuck it underneath his shirt, so that it once more lays against his bare skin.
He takes a deep breath, centering himself. The White King is one of the strongest people I have ever met. He will, as will I, do the right thing. Even though sometimes, the right thing is the hardest of all.
“I wish,” he murmurs, “I could move on like you have.”
I wipe away the tears that have dared to escape my eyes. He knows. Of course he knows. He probably knew the moment I asked for his help. This man knows me better than any other person in existence. He heard the tone in my voice when I told him Finn’s name. But I cannot apologize to him for the audacity of falling in love with somebody else. Nor would he ever ask me to. He was the one to beg me to consider such a possibility; I was the one to claim I never could.
Love, it seems, can be drawn from a bottomless well, and for many different kinds of thirst.
“I’m—”
“No. Do not dare to apologize to me for opening your heart up. I would not have it any other way.”
“I wish—”
“I will find them for you.” Our foreheads touch once more. “I will always do everything I can to ensure your happiness. Your happiness is my happiness, even if it means your heart is held in another’s hands.”
Horns blare; I jerk back and turn away so I can wipe my eyes once more. The tent flaps rustle, and in trundles Ferz Epona followed closely on her heels by Ferz Eponi. The lord hands the White King a sheet of paper. “The Queen of Diamonds’ colleagues have been located.”
I immediately snatch the sheet. “Where?”
It’s Ferz Epona who answers. Her eyes widen at the sight of the blood on the King’s chest, but she quickly refocuses on me. “Jubjubs report that two matching the Queen’s descriptions have been seen in the company of Heart soldiers roughly two thousand yards away.”
Alarm tears through me. “What?”
“Fetch Dr. Frankenstein,” the White King says. “He will want to be present to hear this.”
Ferz Epona salutes and swiftly leaves the tent.
I grab the King’s sleeve. “If she—”
“Last report I got,” he says to me, eyes serious, “had the Queen of Hearts edging on the White Queen’s encampment. There are been several skirmishes between the two armies, with the latest reported just this past day. She will not be so close to me.”
“Why would they take them?” I fight to keep myself from erupting. “What purpose would her soldiers have in such an act?”
“My lady,” Ferz Eponi says, “the Queen of Hearts has taken to ransoming hostages of the various Courts. Those who are not paid for are executed or sold into slavery. Chances are, your colleagues were captured alongside a number of other citizens in Nobbytown. The village had recently declared itself sympathetic to His Majesty’s causes.”
“There is no way Finn would have allowed either him or Mary to be taken. He is a skilled fighter.” I’m desperate, curious as I stare down at the crumpled note, but the words jumble on the page before disappearing. The White King has coded his notes. “He—”
“Rumor has it that the Heart army possess a type of spray that incapacitates people,” the Ferz says. “They call it SleepMist, and it is believed to work nearly immediately. One whiff and a person slips into a deep slumber that lasts for hours and then fades to partial paralysis for a few more after that. We’ve been trying to get samples for weeks.”
I’m horrified. She dared to go so far?
“The contingency,” the Ferz continues, “is supposedly not a very large one. The jubjubs estimate it to be at about fifty soldiers. That said, there are a pair of raths and a half-dozen pikemen present, all surrounding the caged caravans that carry the hostages.”
“You’re sure that . . . that my colleagues are there?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. One of the jubjubs was able to get close enough to identify.” He motions at the paper. “They appear to be asleep, my lady. There is no blood to be seen, at least from the view the bird had.”
Victor slips into the tent. “They’ve found Mary and Finn?”
As I nod, the White King says, “Ready a squadron. We leave in ten minutes.”
“Are they okay?” Victor asks me as the King orders his page to come and help him back into his armor.
“I think so.” I tell him what the Ferz has said.
“Shite.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to combat Wonderlandian poisons. Mary, yes, but . . .” He lets out a hard breath. “I’m not going to lie. I saw some bloody terrifying things down in the medical tents.” To the White King, he says, “How long will it take for us to get there?”
For a moment, I worry my former lover will insist upon us staying back. Victor, no matter how much I trust him, is still a stranger. But the King says, “Twenty minutes of hard riding. We will come in strong. If there are hostages, I want them all liberated. Your medical assistance may be required, Doctor.”
Victor squints. “Is that blood on your shirt? How did I not see it before? Let me have a look at you.”
The White King takes a step back. “Is it nothing I have not experienced before. I am fine, Dr. Frankenstein. Let us focus instead on the matters at hand.”
Victor doesn’t look too sure about this, though. “Fine. What about the catalyst?”
“Once we have your colleagues’ safety assured, we will leave at daybreak. It will take us nearly a full day to reach the crown’s location.”
I ask softly, “You’re coming?”
The White King holds my eyes while he says, “Of course I am coming, as will a small amount of guards. The Nightrider will stand in my stead here at camp. You did say this catalyst is of great import to Wonderland’s safety, did you not?”
My heart swells. “Yes, I did.”
“Then I will be there to ensure your way is clear. Come. Let us find armor to get you through the coming battle.”
WHEN WE EXIT THE tent, the soldiers coming with us are already amount. Dozens of blindingly white horses with equally white eyes prance in the morning sunlight, golden rays sparkling through their manes.
“This is bloody uncomfortable.” Victor raps on the metal shielding his chest. “How does anybody ever get used to it?”
“You get used to it,” Ferz Eponi says from nearby, “when it saves your life, lad.”
“Do they talk?”
The Ferz is confused by Victor’s question. “Do who talk?”
“The horses!”
“No, Doctor. They’re horses.”
Finn’s brother turns to me. “Am I wrong? There are
talking animals who are soldiers in this encampment. The Nightrider is a unicorn after all. He talks.” He pauses. “Does he ride horses?”
Several of the soldiers around us—both human and animal—glower at Victor’s commentary.
I end up hushing him.
We are both wearing armor borrowed from sidelined knights in the medical wing. Thankfully, their fits are close enough that it should pose no problems if either of us is engaged on the field. Still, I can’t help but wish I’d thought to change into my own back at my vault in The Land that Time Forgot.
Just before I mount my horse, the White King breaks away from the Nightrider to come to where I am. He kneels down on the ground, my vorpal blade in his outstretched hands. And the sight of him doing this, holding my sword and kneeling before me, tests my strength.
The crowd around us goes quiet. The only sounds are borogrove songs from above and impatient hooves upon muddy ground.
“I beg your forgiveness,” he says quietly, “but I could not resist.”
“Has it brought you luck?”
His head lifts at my broken words. “Yes, my lady.”
“Then my blade is exactly where it belongs. It would be my great honor if you were to carry it from this point on.” My blade, in his fist. Wonderland will still have pieces of me through this King.
He takes a deep breath and stands back up. The look in his eyes makes me want to be the one to fall to my knees. “As you wish.”
As the King mounts his steed, Victor asks suspiciously, “What was that all about?”
A horn trills. “We must leave now,” I tell him. “Do you ride?”
“I grew up in New York and London. No, I do not bloody ride horses.”
“Sir Halwyn?”
The Collectors' Society Page 29
