But first . . .
Rabid hands off the bag of ash and bone and my wedding ring without my even asking. I study the ring. Jeb made it for me when he had the magical ability to paint things and bring them to life. When his muse had become a living entity. It had served as both my engagement and wedding ring, and was indestructible. Or so we had thought. The only time it lost one of its twelve tiny diamonds was due to backlash from my own magic when I was practicing.
I had been standing outside our country cottage, coaxing the weeping willow to dance, when the diamond fell into the grass. We searched and searched, but never found it. Within a week, it showed up again, sprouting from the ground in the form of a glistening, glass-like flower. It was as if the diamond was a seed, holding within it a burst of Jeb’s creation magic.
The scent of soil from the memory fades to the scent of the furnace’s propane. I open the bag’s drawstring and dump the ash and bones into the casket, keeping my movements methodical and precise so nostalgia won’t overtake me again.
Upon emptying the bag, I kiss my ring and lay it atop the dusty pile. “Rabid, melt it with your magic.”
My royal advisor hops over, peers through the opened flap, and sharpens his glowing irises until they radiate red heat. As he concentrates, the silver band melts, releasing the eleven diamonds into the ashes.
I place the identification tag within the casket and read what’s etched into the steel: Alyssa Victoria Gardner Holt. A lump rises in my throat. It’s the last time my human name will define me.
Repositioning the lid, I command the door’s springs to retract and release. I squint against heat and flaring flames as the hatch swings up long enough for me to shove the casket down the incline, then slams shut. It seals so tightly, not even an orange glow can be seen from within.
Only a few seconds more and I would’ve been locked inside. Now, after the cardboard burns away, it will look as if I was. The shiny metal shelves along the wall house a multitude of small cardboard cubes. Inside are the remains of the bodies that came before me and are now waiting to be transferred to their urns.
But my “remains” are unique. Jeb’s diamonds wait inside—little magical seeds. When these ashes are sprinkled where his have been absorbed into the earth beneath our willow tree, flowers will sprout there, a part of him and me. Uniting what’s left of our shared humanness, in one final tribute to all the beauty he created throughout his life.
I grit my teeth against crying, and gather up my backpack as Rabid puts on the other simulacrum suit. It shrinks to fit his bunny-size form, and I send the housefly a mental query to see if the hall is clear.
It whispers back:
All is well, Queen Alyssa . . .
The other humans have gone. Nothing but a few lowly silverfish skittering about.
No need to be invisible quite yet, then.
“Nikki,” I whisper, and the little sprite shakes her wings for good measure, releasing a final dose of fairy dust across the sleeping man. Then she gathers her spriteling companions and follows us out the door. The bathroom is only a few steps across the dim, long hallway. I hobble along, careful not to crush the silverfish skimming around my and Rabid’s feet. I smile as the insects are joined by a long line of roaches, beetles, and spiders.
Queen Alyssa! Queen Alyssa! So sad to see you go . . .
The fly buzzes around my head, adding his good-byes to the mix.
“I’ll miss you all, too,” I say, fighting a swell of wistfulness. It’s the last conversation I’ll have with earthly bugs. The last time I’ll hear their fuzzy, buzzy greetings. In Wonderland, the insects are . . . very different. Less innocuous and kind. Some are vicious and deadly, and far from small. But I know all their secrets, and all their weaknesses—thanks to Wonderland’s wisdom keeper.
Our parade slips into the bathroom and stops before the mirror. Instead of dwelling on my wrinkled and frumpy appearance, I envision the little-boy sundial that covers the rabbit hole in a garden in London. The glass crackles like ice on a lake, and in the jagged reflection, the sundial appears, touched by a hazy pink sunrise. It’s early enough that no one occupies the trail yet. As a precaution, I pull on my hood and Rabid does the same.
All we’ll need is a thought or two about our surroundings, and we’ll be invisible.
Using my key, I aim for a crack shaped like a keyhole, tiny and intricate.
The portal opens. Rabid nudges me with his bony knuckles, and I clasp my fingers in his. Together, with the sprites and our insect escorts, we step through the liquidized opening. A cool breeze flows through me, along with the scent of grass and roses tipped with sparkling dew.
The blossoms call out:
Fair faryn, Majesty. The years are behind you. You’ll soon be in full bloom like us once more.
I grin. Rabid tugs me toward the sundial that’s already been pushed off the rabbit hole. He’s anxious to leave. More insects have joined our company, some along the ground: beetles, centipedes, and scorpions. Others ride the breeze: butterflies, moths, bumblebees . . .
They swarm out of the glistening foliage and spin around me and my royal advisor—an enchanted rainbow fog, thick and bright in the pinkish-tinged lighting.
The butterflies sing:
Long live Queen Alyssa. May you forever be young, mad, and free.
Several land on me, their wings caressing my cheeks and neck through the simulacrum, and I realize I won’t have to make myself invisible after all. My insect friends are here to provide protection, like they’ve always been.
Rabid releases me, his cadaverous fingers scraping against mine as he follows the sprites and dives into the rabbit hole without looking back.
“Be not late, Majesty-y-y,” Rabid’s call echoes up to me, growing farther and farther away as he descends—weightless and lackadaisical as a feather on the wind.
Unlike my netherling entourage, I can’t leave without one glance back.
I pause, peering through the cloud of a thousand beating wings at the shimmering landscape on the horizon. My chest cinches tight.
I take the keepsakes from my backpack. Three ornate glass bottles: the first filled with tiny stones, the second with seashells, and the last with silvery stardust. One look at the trio, and the memories I’ve been fighting illuminate my mind, graceful and slow, like sunlight creeping over a still and slumbering world.
CULMINATION
MEMORY ONE: STONES
Sixty-three years earlier . . .
It’s morning in Wonderland, and Morpheus is whisking me back to the Ivory castle, where my family and Jeb wait to step with me through the portal, so I can live out the remainder of my human life.
My escort is pensive and quiet, his features hard as stone. Not one word passes between us during the enchanted carriage ride. The sound of the moths’ wings beating a trail through the sky only intensifies the awkward silence.
My heart presses against my sternum, as if reaching for him where he sits across from me. I know if I looked beneath the silky fabric of my simple black dress and the jacket from his wardrobe he insisted I wear for warmth, the organ would be aglow with a violet hue. Just yesterday, my heart was ripping in half—the human and netherling sides killing one another—due to the curse Queen Red put upon me. Jeb and Morpheus intervened, combined their magic, and bound me together with enchanted sutures. They saved my life with their love. My body understands on some primitive level, and will never forget. It’s drawn to both of them now, forming a bond beyond any human explanation.
But even without that bond, I could decipher the jewels on Morpheus’s face and know what he’s thinking. I woke earlier in his bed to find him seated on the mattress edge, stroking frizzed hair from my temples. Before I could even say good morning, he kissed my forehead and slipped away, stating that breakfast was in order.
We spent the night together, but nothing physical happened between us. Nothing will, for many years. Not until I’ve lived out my human life with Jeb.
I’
ve made my stand on fidelity very clear; although Morpheus has made it clear he won’t make it easy. Yet even with his ever-looming challenges dangling like loose threads, the newfound respect we’ve forged is wrapped securely around me. I know he’d never ask me to betray the humans I love—because that’s part of who I am—as much as it pains him to step back and let me go.
After visiting Wonderland’s landscapes together last night, I understand him on a level I never have before. And it’s the same for him, because once we arrive and he takes my hand to help me out of the carriage, he doesn’t hesitate to walk me toward the icy entrance where Jeb is waiting at the top of the snow-covered crystal stairs.
I catch a surprised breath upon seeing him. He’s wearing his navy blue prom tuxedo, complete with the periwinkle dress shirt that complements his dark, wavy hair and the olive tone of his skin. The very shirt that had been fashioned into a pair of boxers in AnyElsewhere.
The tux is just the way it looked on prom night: fake webs, dusty streaks, and strategic rips along the velvet-flocked jacket and pants. For a moment, I’m taken back to Underland, when I first saw him waiting for us on prom night at the employee’s entrance, and his wounded expression at my betrayal. I will never cause that look in his eyes again.
Strange. The last I saw of the tuxedo, it was on Jeb’s doppelganger in AnyElsewhere. When CC fell into the pool of fears, the clothes disintegrated into puddles. Jeb must’ve painted them anew before he gave up his talent forever.
Maybe it was out of sentimentality, because his sister made the tux for him, or more likely because he wants to be wearing something familiar when we walk through the portal and back into his family’s life.
Still, even in clothes from the human realm, he looks miserable and out of his element as he waits for me to take the stairs. Standing there in the daylight, seeing the beautiful landscapes he created for this world, must be killing him. Giving up his muse has to be the most excruciating thing he’s ever done. He did it without hesitation, to help bring balance to Wonderland . . . to feed Sister Two’s restless souls with his artistic dreams.
I’m still not sure if he’s faced the full repercussions of that sacrifice yet. But I will be there to help him through it when he does.
As Morpheus and I ascend the lower quarter on our way to Jeb, we pass the netherlings who have come to see me off. A few of them are unexpected.
Hubert, beaded and polished like a Fabergé egg in an Easter display, reaches out a praying-mantis claw to shake Morpheus’s hand. “Couldn’t just make it easy for me to hate her,” the egg-man says to Morpheus as if I’m not standing there. “Little know-it-all queen. Not an ounce of manners or culture in that melon of hers. Yet she still managed to prove me wrong. Was so sure she’d end up in a casket. What a disappointment.” In spite of the vitriol at the tip of his tongue, his yolk-yellow eyes reflect a begrudging admiration. To my surprise, he offers me a lifetime supply of eggs Benedict at his illustrious magi-kind inn should I ever choose to visit.
Next, we greet the odd assortment of netherling stowaways who’d been trapped in the memory train three days earlier. They all bow and thank me for opening the rabbit hole so they could return home. My nose tickles on the verge of a sneeze as we pass the dust bunnies.
Bill the Lizard stops us at the midway point. He holds out the two simulacrum suits I’d asked Grenadine to return to him.
“I’m sorry I lost one . . . that I stole them to begin with,” I whisper, ashamed.
He shakes his reptilian head and his long tongue flickers out. “I am a subject of the Red Court. Ergo, they belong to you, Majesty. Your thieving craftiness pales only to your application of their magic. You will make better use of them than I ever would.”
Stunned, I place my hand atop my chest. Underneath my dress, the ruby key necklace that opens my kingdom presses back. “Really?”
Bill holds out the suits.
I look to Morpheus.
He smiles and nods, encouraging me to take the translucent fabric. I tuck it beneath my arm and thank the lizard, who bows low to let us by. Rabid is waiting for us on the next step—dressed in a red vest and matching trousers. He opens his arms to carry the suits for me. My perfect little gentleman advisor. I pat the soft skin between his antlers as we climb.
Elfin guards line the upper half of the steps on either side. They draw their swords and touch the tips overhead, forming a glistening silver archway.
Jeb waits at the end, jaw clenched as if it’s killing him not to run to me.
While Morpheus and I ascend the stairs beneath the swords’ shadows, I nod at Jeb in assurance. His whole body relaxes. The circles under his expressive green eyes attest to a lack of sleep. The twelve hours we’ve been apart had to be torture. As strong as he was when we said our good nights, it’s obvious he feared they might actually be good-byes. That I would decide to spend my future in the human realm alone without him.
I can’t be in the same world as him day after day and not have him in my life. We love each other. We both want the same things. We will share those dreams and grow old together. A mortal life is precious and short in comparison to forever. It should be lived, and never wasted. Something that Morpheus understands now in a way he never did; otherwise, he wouldn’t be letting me go without a fight.
My face feels numb, less from the cold than the agonizing, uncomfortable situation I’ve placed them both in. I remind myself that this is the worst part . . . that once I step through the portal into the human realm, my two lives will mesh, yet at the same time never cross wires, unless it’s necessary for someone’s safety or well-being. That’s what we all agreed on.
A crust of frost grinds beneath my boots as I take the final step. The elfin knights salute us and return their swords to leather holsters. The jeweled blood beaded along their cheeks and temples shines like berries against the wintery background surrounding them. Clicking their heels, they descend the stairs to surround the castle at their posts.
Frowning, Morpheus offers my hand to Jeb. It’s the strangest gesture, grand and dignified, as if he’s walked me down the aisle and is giving me away. In a way, he is. For one human lifetime.
His wings rustle when Jeb takes my palm, an involuntary spasm. He’s straining not to take my hand back. “You know the protocol . . . should something happen to her body in your world, you or Alison must contact me immediately. Alyssa’s spirit must be housed for it to survive.”
Jeb nods. “I got it.” His answer is succinct and his tone even, but the worry in his expression gives him away. It’s something none of us like to think about, something we all hope will never have to be addressed.
Rabid’s pink gaze turns up to me, his pale face bewildered. I send him toward the door to rescue him from the morbid subject matter.
Morpheus waits for the skeletal clacking of bones to vanish within the castle, then drags a pair of gloves out of his pocket, proceeding to work them into place. “And I suppose it is unnecessary to tell you to treat her like a queen,” he grumbles to Jeb.
Jeb weaves our fingers together. “Just like it’s a waste of breath to ask you to lay off the seduction tactics in her dreams.”
“Is that jealousy I hear in your voice, pretty pseudo elf? Never fear. I’ll still think of you every day, whilst she’s with you.”
“I prefer you think of me every night, when she’s with you.” Jeb helps me peel Morpheus’s jacket from my shoulders, replacing it with his tuxedo coat—still warm from his body heat. “I’ll send an owl, as a reminder.” He hands Morpheus his clothing back.
Morpheus takes the jacket and folds it over his arm, patting the wrinkles out of it. He chuckles, though it’s mirthless and hollow. “I’m going to miss your bumbling attempts at wordplay.”
Jeb forces a smile. “Not as much as I’ll miss your pompous-ass condescension.”
They stare at each other, a mixture of amusement and restraint in their expressions. Begrudging respect bridges the underlying tension—a link that grew, w
ithout their even realizing or encouraging it, during the month they spent together in AnyElsewhere.
“You two want to be alone?” I ask, desperate to end the weird exchange.
Morpheus narrows his eyes. “I will see you tonight, Alyssa. And from this moment on, when you’re with me, I expect your mind to be as it was in our childhood. Fixed on Wonderland matters, and not the humdrum mundane of the mortal realm. Mend things there, so they won’t be a distraction while you’re fulfilling your royal obligations. Are you sure you don’t need my help to clean up all the messes? I’ve had some practice handling humans.” The smug grin he offers Jeb is filled with innuendo.
“We got it, Mothra,” Jeb says. “I can relate to their innocent sensitivities better than you ever could.” He raises an eyebrow, delivering his own underlying message.
There’s a muffled thud at the giant, crystallized door. Jeb and I glance over our shoulders where my parents are peering out. They both look beautiful and rested, but also anxious.
I tip my head in greeting and they wave, then withdraw deeper into the hall, to give the three of us privacy.
Jeb turns back around, his arm snug at my waist. “Are you coming in to see us off, Mort?”
Morpheus glares at Jeb pointedly. His bejeweled markings flash through a pastel palette, like a glittery sunset. Resolution flickers inside his inky gaze. “I want nowhere near the portal. I’ve had enough of your stagnant realm to last me a lifetime and then some.”
“I hope you mean it,” Jeb says. The statement isn’t barbed, just sincere.
“Oh, I most assuredly do. With the exception of that precious part of your world which will one day belong solely to mine.” Morpheus tips his hat my way and the bluish gray moths at the rim quiver, as if bowing. As he turns his back and takes the stairs, wings dragging through the snow behind him like a cape, a part of me aches with a deep sadness.