I didn’t hesitate. “I want to leave this world.” My voice sounded wispy, like a slip of air through a screen window, as I sunk to the floor atop my jacket. I crossed my legs, mimicking Morpheus’s pose. “But I also want so much more . . .”

He smiled. “Of course you do. You want it all. The crown, the throne, fearful subjects kneeling prostrate at your feet. And you shall have it. It is your heritage. It was taken from you, and you’re going to win it back. I believe it’s time to show you my ace, little princess.” He withdrew a cylinder of paper from inside his jacket’s cuff and unrolled it so I could see the beautiful winding letters. The golden ink looked wet, though I knew it wasn’t because it hadn’t smeared. It was reflecting the flashlight’s glow:

Burst through Stone with a Feather; Cross a Forest in One Step; Hold an Ocean in Her Palm; Alter the Future with Her Fingertip; Defeat an Invisible Enemy; Trample an Army beneath Her Feet; Wake the Dead; Harness the Power of a Smile.

“I don’t get it . . .”

“They’re tests,” he answered. “Should you pass each one, you will dethrone the imposter seated in your stead, and be crowned the one, true Red Queen. Half of Wonderland will be yours to reign, and you’ll need never return to this zoo again.”

I gulped. A slow thrill trickled through my body, warm and sweet, like a tree feeling the sap flow through her limbs at the first breath of spring. It was my enchanted intuition awakening. I had a place where I belonged. Where I was meant to rule. There, I would never be lonely again and everyone would be at my mercy. “But how can I accomplish such impossible things?”

Morpheus rolled up the paper again and tucked it away. “That is your twentieth question, and well spent. The answer is in the riddle I gave you earlier. And in case you haven’t figured it out, consider this: Any interpretation can be altered simply by looking at things from different, more colorful angles . . . view the words and the world through a kaleidoscope instead of a telescope.”

I nodded, because he made perfect sense, in some crafty yet absurd way. After all of his badgering about using my words wisely, I was starting to see everything differently already: connotation versus denotation, instinct versus logic, infinity versus . . .

“Time,” I whispered, answering his riddle.

“Indeed.” He stood, drawing out a small key on a chain from his lapel. He held it up so it glistened in the moonlight. “Time to train you, time to outsmart the tests, and time to win over your subjects.”

“How long will that take? And what’s in it for you? You said we’d be striking a bargain.”

“Sorry, Alison. You’ve run out of questions. All you need to know is it’s as much to my advantage as yours to see you crowned.” He tossed the key to me, and I caught it in midair. “Nothing will get in our way, however long it takes. You give me time, and I’ll give you all the tools you need to claim your birthright, to change everything you once thought you were. And then, time will matter no more, for you will don the robes of netherling immortality. Starting tonight, we reshape your destiny.”

TRAIN TRACKS

The absence of the shower’s lull shatters my nostalgic haze.

I stretch and sit up on the bed, glancing at the half-opened door where steam drifts out in a ghostly dance. Thomas is shaving. Water swishes in the sink, then pauses as he hums softly while passing the razor over his skin. The song is one he used to sing to me when we were dating. The words spin through my memory: a man begging forgiveness for loving his lady too much, telling her he’d want no other but her forever, that it was worth any amount of pain to be with her.

He’d upheld the message from the song, stood by me when any other man would’ve thrown up his arms and left. I’ve never once regretted choosing him over my netherling destiny. I only regret hurting him. Just as I regret almost robbing Alyssa of her chance to be immortal.

I thought at the time that I was doing the right thing, keeping silent to save her from Wonderland’s barbaric practices. I was only sixteen when I stumbled upon Sister Two’s lair and saw what she was using human children for, but even at that age, I couldn’t close my eyes to the tragedy, or the similarities: how the grave keeper siphoned away their dreams to feed the restless souls in the cemetery. Similar to what had been done to me by unnameable monsters throughout my life—siphoning away my dreams for their own pleasure and satisfaction. But unlike me, Sister Two’s victims never escaped.

Seeing Thomas wrapped inside her webs after having been imprisoned there for ten years—all of his life draining away—changed me. And my betrayal changed Morpheus. It was a tragic chain reaction.

I shudder and turn away from the bathroom, staring down at my bare feet, my mind stalled in that awful place and time.

The mattress sinks as Thomas settles behind me in a pair of gray slacks and a lavender dress shirt hanging from his broad shoulders, loose and unbuttoned.

“Ali-bear. What are you thinking of?” He kisses my neck, surrounding me with the scent of his aftershave. His fingers mold around my abdomen, sending shivers of pleasure through every inch of my skin.

I smile as I melt into his lips, my back snuggling against his bare chest as he kisses the spot beneath my ear.

“You, now,” I answer, running my fingers over the slick fabric covering his arms.

“Perfect,” he whispers. “Because I’m thinking of you, and how beautiful you are.”

“You approve of the dress, then?”

“Not just that . . .” His teasing mouth finds its way to my nape. “You smell good, too.”

I giggle and he smiles against me.

“If we’re going to go anywhere tonight,” I press, trying to concentrate in spite of his soft kisses, “we should leave soon.”

He sighs—petals of warm breath blossoming around my left shoulder blade and wing bud. “I guess you’re right. Especially since we’re not just going out. We’re going away.”

I glance over my shoulder where his mouth makes contact and leaves an imprint of sensation. “Away . . . where?”

“Faraway London.” He grins. His damp hair catches the sunset filtering through the blinds—a glossy mess of chocolate waves. When he smiles at me like that, he looks nineteen again.

“You want to go to London, tonight.” I shift around on the mattress to help him button the shirt. It’s one of my favorites, for how the color complements his complexion, and how the silky fabric clings to his form. I skim my fingers along his chest before I close the placket. His daily fencing regimen has refined his muscles to a new level—a sophisticated and seasoned density that only a man his age could acquire. “So . . . I guess this impromptu trip means you’ve decided to forfeit our sword fight tomorrow. Are you sure that’s wise? Don’t get me wrong, you’re in great shape. I’m just not sure you have the legs for a miniskirt.”

He chuckles, causing the dimple in his chin that matches Alyssa’s to catch a shadow and appear deeper. “Oh, we’ll be back in time to defend our titles. We’re going to take a shortcut.” He places my key necklace around my neck. “Our royal daughter offered us the use of her mirror.”

I force a smile, in spite of the chill that wraps my spine—as if ice-tipped spiders are spinning webs of frost around each bone. Every time I use the looking-glass passages, I feel like I’m falling back into my past, which is why, when we make our visits to the Skeffingtons in London, I always insist we go the traditional route and take a commercial flight.