Ensnared

  I frown. “Are you saying that it changed them?”

  She sits down and, propped against the curve of my neck, lifts one leg at a time to adjust the pointed green shoes on her feet. “You’ve always brought out the softer side in my master. But he hasn’t changed. He’s as changeless as he is ageless. He’ll always be selfish, manipulative, untamable. He knows no other way to be, for he is all things Wonderland. The event simply gave him a new means to determine the direction of his actions when dealing with you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A mortal moral compass. Just as your Jebediah now understands Wonderland’s magic and feral desires, Morpheus understands the human world’s emotional needs and insecurities. He and your mortal knight have always been your perfect mate, split in twain. But now each of them has gained enough insight to provide what you need in either realm. It is not the men bridging your heart. It is your heart bridging them. They are wiser because of their love for you. I daresay even happier. Yes, they could subsist without you, but they are better men with you. They are the ones who need you to be complete, to be all they were meant to be. That does not make you selfish. It makes you indispensable.”

  I smile. The idea is empowering, and as fascinating, twisted, and beautiful as Wonderland itself.

  My attention wanders back to the dance floor and the guests representing the Red kingdom, the White, and even the solitary of our kind. I recognize a few more of the attendees: Mustela fae—ferret-like creatures with long, venomous fangs and vulnerable craniums, a hedgehog being with the face of a sparrow, a pink woman with a neck as long as a flamingo.

  There are also some that are new to me, with batlike wings and fishy faces, or sensuous females as dark as mud, with amphibious plants sprouting out of their supple skin.

  I may not know every netherling, but I know their gifts and powers. Morpheus taught me in my childhood.

  The bridge troll’s dreadlocks are enchanted with a telepathy that brainwashes his victims into being so fearful of staying in place, they cross his bridge even when they know he’s waiting on the other side to turn them to stone. And the nameless muddy vixen uses an alluring song to draw lesser-minded beings into the water where she sucks the life from them.

  Not all of them are deadly, but each one is deranged and strange enough to tease my darker side with the possibility of chaos. I’m eager to start visiting in my dreams so I can learn their weaknesses and how to manipulate them, because reasoning is never the law of the land in the Red Court. It’s all about who’s the trickiest, who’s the wiliest with words. And who’s the most determined to get their way.

  Which is why Morpheus will be the perfect Red King one day.

  Jeb mentioned earlier that he and Morpheus talked while I was recuperating from being frozen. He told Morpheus he was letting me out of my vow, in hopes Morpheus would play the gentleman, too. But I don’t expect him to fight fair. Just as I know he doesn’t expect me to be an easy mark.

  I fidget in the dress he sent over this afternoon: white corset bodice with miniature crimson rosebuds sewn upon the neckline and satiny black laces that crisscross, then dangle in a bow at my waist. A fitted red and white pin-striped, ankle-length skirt hugs my lower half, and a matching choker collar is secured over my key necklace. Per his request, my hair is loose and long, and writhes around the roses pinned in place. Every part of my ensemble feels like a seduction. Even my long sleeves—sheer poufs of black netting with twirling swirls of red ribbon woven throughout the length—cling like soft kisses to my arms.

  “Did you tell him my last message?” I ask Gossamer as one song ends and another begins. Earlier, I thought upon the wording of my life-magic vow: that I was to give him one day and one night. I never stated consecutive hours, or that they would be spent in Wonderland. Since I’ve pointed out that we accumulated at least twelve daylight hours together in AnyElsewhere, he’ll have no choice but to agree that only the night half of my vow is unfulfilled.

  “I did tell him,” Gossamer’s bell-like voice chimes. It’s obvious by her crossed arms that she’s not about to share his reaction.

  “So, he’s pouting, right? That’s why he missed the ceremony,” I say over the instruments.

  “He’s been away from his home for some time. He had things to do. To prepare for your night together.” Gossamer’s furred wings buzz into action, lifting her off my shoulder.

  “Sure.” I smother a smile. “We both know he didn’t come because he would’ve been bored to tears. There’s too much orderliness for his liking.”

  She giggles in agreement—a tinkling sound that blends with the music.

  Earlier, Ivory gave a speech, introducing me as the reigning Red Queen, assuring everyone that my blood is tied to the crown that Rabid White is keeping under lock and key until I can place it on my head again.

  Two of my subjects from the Red Court stepped forward to thank Jeb for his contribution to our world: Charlie, a dodo bird with the head of a man and hands protruding from the tips of his stubby wings, and his wife Lorina, a parakeet-like netherling with a humanoid face slapped onto crimson feathers as if it were a mask. They presented Jeb with a key to the cemetery gates delivered by five of Sister Two’s smelly, silvery pixies. The fact that a human boy earned the Twid Sisters’ respect gained him quite a fandom among the guests.

  After that, the music began and food was laid out.

  Honey-scented tea steams invitingly from the pots, and the food sparkles with ice and magic. Plates are piled with moonbeam cookies and other unusual confections, such as starlit marzipan tarts and lightning-bug meringues, each of them waiting to pour delectable light into every guest’s mouth with one bite.

  Ivory’s idea of entertaining is different from the banquets I’ve attended with Morpheus in reality, dreams, and visions. Everyone is on their best behavior due to the hundreds of elfin knights posted at every entrance and exit. Several of my card guards have joined them for extra security.

  The gathering is proper and refined.

  I suspect that one day, if Morpheus and I rule together, I’ll have to attend such things by myself, given the flighty-wicked side of him that both annoys and entices me.

  Something tinkles above my head. I glance up at some cherry-flavored chimes made of sugared icicles, suspended in midair by fairy enchantments. All it would take is a stretch of the arm to capture one. But that’s not nearly as challenging or fun as chasing a roasted duck with a death wish around a table, mallet in hand.

  “I’m getting hungry,” I say to my spriteling companion.

  “I already told you. The master wishes to share a picnic. It will be worth the wait.” Her glimmering eyes zero in on me, scolding.

  “You’re misreading her implication, pet.” Morpheus’s deep voice warms the top of my head from behind. I turn to find him peering around the doorway, wearing that smug smirk. He hands me a long-stemmed rose that matches the ones in my hair. “Alyssa was referring to her hunger for a walloping good adventure. Isn’t that right, luv?” He offers a palm, his jeweled eye patches flickering between violet and pink.

  Instead of admitting how well he reads me, I silently take his hand. As we start out the door, I glance over my shoulder in search of my parents, who are now lost in the crowd.

  “Gossamer,” I begin. “Would you mind—?”

  “I will tell everyone you have gone for the night.” She flashes Morpheus and me a mischievous smile. “Fennine es staryn, es fair faryn.” Then she flitters away.

  Morpheus leads me past the elfin knights and out of the glass castle into the evening air. I make a marked effort not to notice how debonair he looks in his white tailcoat suit and the black and red pin-striped vest underneath, or how high and proud his wings rise behind him.

  Instead, I take in our surroundings. The sun and moon twist together in the purple sky. Their combined light coats everything with an ultraviolet hue. In the distance, past Ivory’s icy domain, plants of all kinds flourish in psychedelic colors?
??pink bushes, yellow flowers, orange trees, and rainbow ground cover.

  I bask in the beauty of it all. Threading my fingers through Morpheus’s, I ask, “So, what did Gossamer say?”

  He leans in to hear me over the scuffle of some fashionably late dust bunnies who sneeze as they pass us on their way to the entrance. “An ancient blessing from our realm. May the fairy goddess light your footsteps with stars, and may your travels be fair, however far you roam.”

  “And how far are we planning to roam?” I ask, my netherling side almost salivating upon the sight of our carriage. It’s a reasonable facsimile of the moth “hot air balloon” he’d intended us to use in AnyElsewhere. Although this giant mushroom basket is enclosed to keep us warm, and is drawn by thousands of moths harnessed to glowing blue strands of magic. The same magic forms luminescent wheels. They remind me of the glass tubing on neon signs, molded in circles and spokes.

  “Every part and parcel of your kingdom will be laid at your feet tonight,” Morpheus answers. “With so many of your subjects here at the castle, it is the perfect opportunity to take the tour. From the checkerboard deserts to the chaotic cliffs to the overgrown wilds. We shall make a few special stops along the way. I had Jebediah paint some scenes from the past as I remember them. The cave Alice was held in . . . birdcage and all. The cocoon from whence I was born anew. They’re part of the history we share. And now they’re preserved forever.”

  I’m touched by the sentiment and move close enough to get a good look at his top hat in the moonlight. “You’re wearing your Seduction Hat. Why am I not surprised?”

  He offers a pirate’s smile. “Did you notice . . . I’ve a new embellishment?” He makes a show of adjusting an owl’s tail feather in the band.

  I bite back a giggle. “Vegetarian barn owl, I presume?”

  “Won’t be bothering me again for some time.”

  “I can guarantee it’s not the only one out there.”

  He loops my arm through his. “Good. I’m always up for a worthy chase.”

  I shake my head. “Which brings us back to the Seduction Hat.”

  He smirks. “I’m wearing it because it matches your dress.”

  “Sure,” I say, even though his top hat—one-half crimson and one-half white, with black moth garland and rosebuds at the brim—actually does match me, perfectly.

  “It appears Gossamer found your parents.” Morpheus motions to one of the towers, where Mom and Dad are watching us leave. “Hope she told them not to wait up,” he quips.

  My parents have made peace with Morpheus after he proved how much he cares for both my human and netherling sides, but they weren’t thrilled to learn of my vow. Then they saw Jeb’s example, how he’s trusting me to make my own choices. After that, they only wished me strength of mind and heart. I assured them I had both in spades because of their examples.

  Morpheus helps me climb into the carriage. The compartment is big enough to accommodate his wings, and the seats are made of red velvet. Striking purple curtains hang across the window, and animated fluorescent swirls move along the walls. The interior is like Morpheus in every way . . . elegant and polished, yet at the same time jarring and mesmerizing. I settle into the seat opposite him, clutching my lace-clad hands around the rose he gave me. Hookah smoke hugs every breath. Two hurricane-style candelabras are mounted on either side of the window, filled with fireflies that cast an ultraviolet glow, bluing the paler shades of our clothes and Morpheus’s porcelain skin and lovely lips.

  “So, where to first?” I ask. “Bear in mind, we only have twelve hours.”

  He pulls the door shut and leans forward, elbows on knees. “About that. When I went back to my manor to prepare, I had some time to think about your vow. You deliberately left out the ‘after we defeated Red’ clause in your recollection. Which, technically, doesn’t quite encompass our hours in the looking-glass world, now does it?”

  My arrogant bubble bursts. “Um . . .”

  “Precisely,” Morpheus says, pulling white gloves into place on his hands. “However, to prove I can be every bit as conciliatory as your mortal prince, and to reward you for the effort of manipulating me, I’m going to let it slide. You shan’t be held accountable but for one night.”

  “How gracious,” I grumble.

  His jeweled markings sparkle, the color of orchids in spring. “It is, in fact. Considering that originally, before our tour of Wonderland, I was to take you dancing in the clouds and serenade you with the wind. Then dining on candied spiders and sipping dandelion wine, so we could appease your sadistic tendencies regarding flowers and bugs.”

  I fake a pout. “Are you ever going to let me live that down?”

  “Not in this lifetime. Perhaps in the next.” He pushes back the purple curtains, revealing a window big enough for us both to look through. “We’ll have to forgo the dancing. I packed a picnic and we’ll eat as we explore.”

  We lift to the sky and I watch Wonderland’s majesty pass below.

  I give in to my stomach’s rumblings and try a candied spider. It’s not too bad, other than that it wiggles going down and leaves a faint soapy aftertaste. Morpheus rewards my daring effort with moonbeam cookies and dandelion wine. The wine tickles my throat with effervescent bubbles, giving me the hiccups. Each time my mouth pops open, the carriage’s interior blinks from the moonbeams coating my tongue.

  Morpheus laughs deliriously and I can’t help but join in.

  Within four hours we’ve seen so much of Wonderland, my mind is spinning in resplendent ultra-violet hues and bizarre terrains. I can’t wait to capture them in my artwork. Sadness chases that thought, thinking of Jeb and his orphaned muse.

  Our last stop before Morpheus’s manor is the flower garden outside the rabbit hole’s door. Most of the flowers are away at Ivory’s castle. Those that aren’t cower when they see me, having heard of my victory over Red and the slaughter of hundreds of prisoners in AnyElsewhere at my hand.

  With Morpheus’s patient coaching, I embrace the chaos within and command the wraiths that live in the soil to reverse their damage to the rabbit hole. In a maelstrom of ear-shattering wails and black inky cyclones that whip through our clothes, they obey, putting everything back as it was in the beginning, little-boy sundial statue and all.

  “What will the human realm think when they wake up to the change tomorrow?” I ask Morpheus as we board our carriage once more, my awareness heightened and my nerves still skittering. I’m half manic after joining forces with the wraiths. My skin feels hot and my face flushed.

  “Perchance that some Good Samaritan came in the night and replaced the sundial,” Morpheus answers. “You were once like them . . . easily lulled to complacency.”

  “That’s because believing you’re alone in the universe is less terrifying than admitting you might have an otherworldly audience.”

  Morpheus studies me appraisingly. “And that is a human weakness. Use it, when it’s time to clean up all the messes your absence from the human realm has made over the past few days. When it’s time to explain where your mum and Jebediah have been for a month. Your duality gives you an advantage in this world, Alyssa. But also in the other. Never forget that.”

  We arrive at his manor and he deposits me in his windowless chamber, promising to be back shortly with tea.

  I turn on my heel to view the wild and stunning decor. Soft amber light falls from the giant crystal chandelier spread across the domed ceiling. Velvet hangings drape the walls in shades of gold and purple, intertwined with strands of ivy, seashells, and peacock feathers.

  The multi-tiered crystal shelves catch my eye. I touch one of the many hats embellished with dead moths. When I was a girl, I was fascinated watching him string the garlands.

  I turn to the tiny glass-dollhouse terrariums. Cocoons coat the panels—caterpillars transforming. In other places, moths flit and perch on leaves and twigs.

  Their graceful antics remind me of how Morpheus affects me now as a woman and a netherling. Bein
g here works like a tonic . . . taking me back to that monumental moment over a year ago when he transformed me—awoke my darker side with afternoon tea and a living chess game.

  The waterfall that serves as his bed’s canopy trickles behind me. I step toward it and reach out a hand. The liquid curtain reacts to me as it did then, lifting back like a living thing so I can see the mattress. Velvety golden quilts and pillows cover the expanse, and hundreds of red rose petals are scattered across, filling my nose with their delicate scent.

  I back up, letting the curtain fall, and bump into the glass table that doubles as a black and silver chessboard. The jade chess pieces must be put away in their box, all but Alice and the caterpillar, newly carved, because I have the original at home.

  A sentence hovers atop three of the silver squares as if by magic, in tiny glowing script: Sleep with Alyssa.

  “Let me clear the dust away, luv.” Morpheus’s hand appears from behind and sweeps across the glass, smudging the words.

  Tense, I turn to face him. He’s taken off his jacket, vest, and gloves. His toned, pale chest peers out from the half-buttoned frilly white shirt. He’s breathtaking, and far too alluring for my comfort.

  My jaw clenches. “I won’t do this.”

  “What, have tea and crumpets?” He balances a tray with cups and a kettle on his other hand and places it on the empty end of the table. “Why ever not?”

  I stand my ground. “Jeb wants to grow old with me. The human in me wants that, too. To experience what Alice never did in the mortal realm. He was willing to risk his one life and face Red so I could have a future with you. My happiness was more important to him than his own. Yet you’re asking me to walk away from him after all he’s given up for Wonderland?”

  “What makes you think I am?” Morpheus hangs his hat on the arm of his chair as he pours cranberry-colored liquid into one cup. Wisps of steam fill the room, carrying notes of mint and lavender.

  “The sentence you wrote.”

  “Ah. That . . .” He motions for me to sit. When I don’t budge, he seats himself, crossing his legs at the ankle. His wings hang wide on either side of his chair. “Alyssa, think. Have I ever taken advantage of your innocence?”