Untamed

  “Then choose three. Three of your most indelible memories. Let him see Wonderland through your eyes . . . the moments and places that hold the most meaning to you. All we need is a glimpse. We have my dream-magic and your imagination to set the scene.”

  I study my husband’s face, thankful for his brilliant, maniacal mind, and grateful that a once self-serving fae can harbor such patience and compassion for a half-human girl. That he even rations out such qualities in smaller doses to our subjects . . . when he’s feeling generous.

  Touching his jeweled markings, I whisper, “I love you, Morpheus. Thank you for showing me all I could be.”

  His eyebrows lift in the most endearing expression—the same look he used to offer as a child when I caught him off guard. He pauses for a moment, as if struggling to regain his composure, then answers, “And I love you. But this is just the beginning. We’ve yet to see all you can be.” He tweaks my nose. “Now, shall we meet our son?”

  I nod.

  My king takes my hands and presses them to my abdomen. He weaves his fingers through mine. Warmth radiates in the spaces between us as his blue dream-magic pulses through my body and distracts me from my pain.

  His voice fills my mind:

  “Little prince, so keen to hide, traverse your kingdom far and wide. Follow us through mental flights, and share the dangers and delights.”

  Though he sings for the baby, Morpheus’s beautiful lullaby captures me in a dizzying whorl of music, so irresistible I become the notes themselves. He leans down and his lips meet mine with a spark of enchanted supplication. I surrender and fade from the present, reappearing in our convoluted and mad past . . .

  MEDITATION

  MEMORY ONE: IN WHICH I FACED WONDERLAND

  Mommy and Daddy think I’m sleeping, but they’re wrong. I’m dreaming in Wonderland, brought here by my playmate, the blue-haired boy named Morpheus. Minutes ago, he lifted the veil so Wonderland’s creatures could see me like I do them. In the five years I’ve visited, I’ve only watched them from behind the wall of sleep, like seeing fish inside a tank. This is the first time for me to meet them, and it makes my heart knock and my face hot.

  But it’s my own fault. I made it happen.

  Earlier, we were at Wonderland’s historical library. The Secret Keeper—as pink as a sunset, with the long neck of a flamingo—helped Morpheus find some books filled with netherling lore. After she patted his eight-year-old head and left the room, Morpheus lifted the veil that kept me invisible to Wonderland, and called me over to a table. He opened a book’s pages, exposing thousands of words written in red ink. I don’t know how to read . . . but it didn’t matter. The sentences and letters floated off the pages, dancing around my head, blending into a real voice—high and whiny like an out-of-tune violin. For an hour, the droning book lectured me about Wonderland’s citizens: their habits, what food they like, their weaknesses and strengths.

  “But where’s the pictures?” I asked after the fifth lesson, yawning. “I want pictures . . . like the ones you draw in the Alice book. Talking is BORING.”

  Offended, the book slammed itself shut. A waxy red substance oozed from between the sheets of parchment, as if the ink melted. It coated the pages’ edges, sealing them closed. The circle of wax then shaped itself into an angry face, hardened, and huffed.

  It refused to peel off, no matter how much Morpheus sweet-talked it.

  “Now see what you’ve done.” Morpheus’s young brow tightened to sternness. “There will be no opening it. The only thing that can soften a miffed book seal is a coating of snicker-snap saliva. So, I guess you’re going to get one better than interacting with books and pictures today. You’re going to get to confront a netherling creature, live and up close.”

  Though reluctant and scared, I let Morpheus take me from the library and fly me here to the darkest caves of Wonderland. The neon blue trees, orange shrubbery, yellow thistles, and pink moss in the distance look bright from my shadowy perch on the fernlike leaf that hangs over a hungry plant. The snicker-snap species grows only in gloomy places like this, floating on the surface of lakes like toothy water lilies.

  I shiver and trace the edge of my wet, fleecy pajamas. I got them for my fifth birthday, two days ago. They have pink and purple superhero girls in the print and should make me feel strong. But I don’t.

  I’m as small as a cricket, wondering why I drank the shrinking potion. Kind of because it tasted like butterscotch. But more because my playmate drank it first, and I can’t let him be braver than me. In my world, he’s a moth, and I’m bigger and stronger. But here, he always beats me at everything.

  I look again at the drooling plant below. It matches the Venus flytraps at home in Mommy’s photo books even more than it does a water lily. But flytraps aren’t like snicker-snaps. They don’t have jaws lined with wriggling, hungry worms covered with glowing droplets of spit. The light attracts tiny Wonderland creatures into their mouths, and then the jaws snap shut to capture them.

  Minutes ago, Luna—a grumpy sprite who had joined our trip to the cave uninvited—was teasing me for my lack of sparkly scales while pointing out the silvery ones covering her like a swimsuit. Morpheus told her to get lost, but she ignored him and chased us as we played follow-the-leader on our hunt for saliva. She was stupid and fell prey to the “glowworms” hanging in the snicker-snap’s mouth.

  I hear her whimpering now, even though the hungry plant has snapped its jaws tight and sunk lower into the water. She might be a nasty sprite, but we still have to save her. Because it’s my fault we’re here.

  Struggling not to cry, I stare at the turtles bobbing in the stinky lake. I tried to jump across them to reach the plant, but fell in. Morpheus had to drag me out, dripping wet. He’s been bragging ever since.

  “You just hop from one to another until you’re across,” he interrupts my thoughts as he shows me the right way to do it—for the hundredth time. He bounces along, never once sinking, as if it’s the easiest thing he’s ever done. He doesn’t even get the hem of his velvet pants wet. Just once, I wish I could be better than him at something in Wonderland. I wish I could win.

  “You have wings to help,” I grump and wriggle my nose. “Why don’t you carry me?”

  “You’ll have your own wings one day. Until then, you need to learn other ways. Sometimes you’ll wish to explore the wilds on your own. I can’t always be there to fly you about.”

  “You should save Luna,” I mumble. “You’re faster than me.”

  “First off, you’re still the leader. Second, we wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t offended the creature tome. And third, I have a pact with snicker-snaps. They leave my moths alone, so long as I let them eat whatever else they deem tasty. Now watch and learn.” He bounds across the turtles once more. “Like stepping across rocks in a creek. Simple as that.”

  I look at my footed pajamas. “They’ll bite my toes again.”

  “They don’t want to bite you. They’ll only turn on you if you turn on them. You need to get on their good side. Give it a try.”

  I bury my face deeper into the wet fabric covering my knees.

  The leaf I’m on bends slightly as Morpheus settles beside me. I peek with one eye to find him studying me like he often does, his expression serious and full of wonder. His left wing comes to rest on my back, soft and rustling, warming my chilly bones.

  “You almost did it,” he says, gentle this time. “You just lost your footing . . . lost your faith. You have to have faith in yourself if you wish to help anyone else. It’s the only way to be a good leader.”

  “The turtles keep moving. I don’t trust them. They don’t play fair.”

  “You’re right not to trust them. And little in life is fair.”

  “Games should be,” I argue. “They should have rules.”

  Morpheus snorts. “Not in Wonderland. And by the by, those aren’t turtles, really. They’re playing at being turtles . . . mock turtles, one might say. They’re evolved from what’s l
eft of the snicker-snap’s undigested food. Mostly dead body pieces and such.”

  I shudder to think that Luna might be one of the floating mostly deads if I can’t rescue her. “They’re icky. Icky and rotten as snot.” I sniffle and the action sucks the lake scum from my dripping pants into my nose. I swallow it down, coughing. “I don’t want to be the leader anymore. It’s hard.”

  “Aw, c’mon. There are so many perks for the leader. First shot with the mallet at dinner . . . a fancy crown of jewels . . . oh, and the only one in Wonderland who can tame a bandersnatch with a secret password. Give it one more try.”

  I shake my head. The taste of lake water mixed with fabric softener has settled in the back of my throat. I shiver and think of Mommy and my warm bed. “I want to go home now.”

  “So, you will leave Luna to be eaten?”

  Tears burn my eyes. “I don’t want to. But what if it’s too late already?”

  Luna’s tiny voice pleads from inside the snicker-snap as if in answer.

  Morpheus and I meet gazes and I scramble to my feet, though I’m too scared to move.

  “What if I lend a bit of magic to help you along?” he asks. “Will you try once more then?”

  As always, the offer of magic is too intriguing to ignore. I nod my head and wipe snot from my nose.

  Morpheus offers a hanky along with a sideways grin.

  After I clean my face and hands, he tugs me to the edge of the leaf. “Mostly deads are close enough to being dead that they’re very grim. And to get on death’s good side, we must share a taste of life.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’ll show you.” Gripping under my arms, he flies us back to the rock that was my starting point earlier.

  I perch at the slippery edge, studying the mock turtles in the stagnant liquid. Now that I know what they really are, I’m even less eager to touch them.

  Morpheus settles beside me and lights up a fiery orb in his small hand, blue and electric. It sizzles and smokes. He tosses the ball down and it ignites the lake. Within seconds, moans erupt from the blue flames now spreading to the turtles’ shells.

  “Why did you do that?” I ask, backing away from the heat scorching my cheeks.

  “Fire is life,” Morpheus says beneath his breath, his porcelain skin lit up with the blaze. His jeweled eye patches glitter a feverish orange.

  Hisses and pops rise from the mock turtles, turning into whispers. It’s hard to hear what they’re saying, though Morpheus seems to know. He answers them: “Turn over a new leaf . . . show us your good side.”

  The blobs rotate in the water and snuff out the flames on their backs. Only their bellies stick up—too wet to catch fire.

  “Now, Alyssa!” Morpheus shouts and pushes me into motion.

  Yelping, I leap from one bobbing post to the other, clearing the embers still afloat on the water and making it to the snicker-snap’s mouth without getting any turtle bites. Upon arrival, I pause on my landing spot, unsure how to open the plant’s jaws.

  I’m about to pry them apart when the mouth pops open in a hysterical laugh—guffawing and snorting so loud it ripples the water and unbalances my perch. I slip, almost toppling into the snicker-snap’s open jaws. Luna, propelled from the plant’s throat on a loud chortle, catches me and lifts me into the air before I can fall.

  Morpheus joins us in flight. “Good show, Luna!” He offers her a carefree, beaming smile that seems to suck out the light from inside me. Why doesn’t he ever smile at me like that?

  Luna blushes and nearly drops from midair, but catches herself. I notice she’s covered in glowing goo.

  “Should’ve seen your eyes,” she says to me at last as she lands us atop the safety of the fern. “They were almost the size of mine!”

  “Wait . . .” I watch as Morpheus helps her scrape thick drool from her green skin and scoop it into a jar. “This was a game? To get the saliva?”

  “There’s a trick to snicker-snaps,” Morpheus answers. “If you’d been patient in your lessons today, you would’ve learned it by the eighth lecture. Their throats are ticklish. Luna merely had to play victim long enough to be pulled into its esophagus. Then, it coughed her back out on an irrepressible snicker attack.”

  Luna holds up a goop-slicked feather, her giggles tinkling.

  “Once you learn the weaknesses of the creatures in this world,” Morpheus says, plugging the jar with a cork lid, “you can trump each and every one, face any danger, and always have a way out. That’s why it’s important for you to pay attention to the droning books. So . . . are you ready to go back to your boring studies, or did you want to give the feather a try and learn things the hard way?”

  Without another word, I allow Morpheus to fly us back to the library, watching the landscapes pass below us. Wonderland is fun, but dangerous. For some reason, instead of scaring me, that makes me hungrier to know more.

  More about the world and its creatures. More about its landscapes and lore. And most of all, more about my strange playmate. Because one day, I’m going to beat him at his own game. And then he’ll smile at me, just like he did at Luna today.

  MEMORY TWO: IN WHICH I BROKE WONDERLAND

  Morpheus and I sit inside his flying carriage on seats of red velvet. Fluorescent swirls move along the walls, creating a spinning effect. They glide up and around the roof, stopping only where purple curtains drape either side of the window.

  Seated opposite him, I clutch my lace gloves around the rose he gave me earlier when he picked me up from Ivory’s ball. The flower’s perfume entwines with his hookah smoke, stirring a sensual warmth in my lungs. There are eight hours left of my vow to spend the night with him, and we’re heading back to his manor now.

  “Every part and parcel of your kingdom will be laid at your feet tonight,” he told me a few hours ago, before we embarked on this tour. We’ve already seen so much of Wonderland, my mind is spinning in resplendent ultraviolet hues and bizarre terrains.

  He places his hat and gloves on the seat next to him. I feel him watching me as he smokes, but pretend not to notice. Instead, I concentrate on Wonderland’s landscapes through the window. The neon colors pass in smears, lit up by the magical blue harnesses attached to the moths propelling us forward.

  During my seventeen years of life, I’ve seen the Red domain enough times—in dreams and in reality—that I know it by memory. But tonight’s tour is different, more precious.

  Everything in Wonderland was reborn today, painted alive at Jeb’s hand. Even my heart is new, held intact by Jeb and Morpheus’s combined magic.

  As I’m seated with Morpheus in such tight proximity, my heart glows and draws toward his, almost magnetized. It’s a breathless, exhilarating sensation—as if starbursts of energy pulse within the muscle.

  I have to wonder if Morpheus senses the reaction. If he knows that because of the magical sutures he and Jeb provided, I’m tied to them both on the most profound level. That they feed my every breath.

  I suspect he does, and can only hope he isn’t going to use it as leverage, because I recognize his quiet meditative state from our childhood. He has a plan simmering in his mind . . . I can feel his wheels turning.

  At our last stop, we visited the flower garden outside the rabbit hole’s teensy door. With Morpheus’s patient coaching, I commanded the wraiths in the soil to reverse their damage. Their wails shattered through me. Their black, inky cyclones raced through my blood before whipping around my clothes. They were obstinate, but obeyed, sensing my royal heritage. They put everything back as Wonderland’s gateway was in the beginning, little-boy sundial statue and all. And now the portals into the human realm are fixed, too. Everything is back as it should be.

  I’m still half-manic after the experience. One can’t dance with nightmares and not be affected. My skin prickles—as if charged with electricity.

  “How are you feeling, luv?” Morpheus asks. I turn to meet his gaze, only to catch him studying the purple light behind my sternum. My heart shines br
ight enough that even when muted by the white satin and miniature crimson rosebuds sewn into the bodice of my dress, it’s still visible. His eyes level to mine. “Commanding the wraiths leaves a din that rings in the blood. Is that what has you so quiet?”

  I nod. My fingertips stroke the rose’s silky petals in a nervous rhythm. Better to let him think he’s figured me out. I can’t tell him what’s really taunting me: the fear that he won’t let me live out my days in the human realm with Jeb without a fight.

  He can’t be happy about it. We’ll only have my dreams after this. Tonight will be our first and last night together in reality for many years to come. And that’s if he decides to wait for me at all. But if he doesn’t, I will spend my eternal future trying to win him back.

  I swallow the lump of emotion in my throat, struggling to think of something else. Anything else. My need for distraction is answered when I notice we’re not headed back to his manor like he said we were.

  “Where are you taking me?” I ask. “I thought the tour was over.”

  Two hurricane-style candelabras are mounted on either side of the window, filled with ultraviolet fireflies. Morpheus’s white suit and porcelain skin look almost blue in the light they radiate.

  “You keep insisting that you wish to experience all the things Alice didn’t in the human realm.” Several puffs of smoke float toward me, some shaped like hearts, others like chains. “However, it’s just as important that you experience what she did whilst she was here.”

  It’s a veiled answer, as clouded as the smoky air between us. I narrow my eyes and an uneasy crimp winds through my stomach that has nothing to do with the candied spider and dandelion wine I indulged in earlier.

  “You look pale, blossom.” Morpheus waves some smoke away and bends over the picnic basket at my feet. After sifting through its contents, he tucks an amplifying pastry into his front jacket pocket. Then, taking out a clear glass thermos, he fills a teacup for each of us. “Let’s have some tea to cleanse the wraiths’ residue from your blood. It will be a while yet, till we reach our destination.”