Ensnared (35 page)

Morpheus rolls his eyes. “We’re straying off track. You’re not embracing the seriousness of the situation. For centuries, Hart has been looking for a way to attack the Wonderland gate, to hijack a wind tunnel and get across the abyss of nothing. Can you imagine the chaos she could wield with access to a knight’s medallion?”

It’s strange, but on some level, I’m relieved at his words. “I was right . . . I knew Wonderland had to be in danger.” The fact that I put my faith in him and he didn’t let me down lifts the weight from my shoulders. I didn’t endanger Jeb and Dad needlessly.

“More than Wonderland, actually,” Morpheus says, interrupting my thoughts. “The Queen of Hearts agreed to keep Red’s spirit alive only because Red convinced her you’d be coming here to rescue me, and Jebediah, had she not thought him dead. It’s why Red captured
us and dragged us into AnyElsewhere in the first place. As collateral. The two queens planned to use you to find a way back to Wonderland, where Hart would have access to the portals into the mortal realm and could harvest human life-clocks for her collection.”

“Life-clocks?” I twine the words around on my tongue, tasting the syllables. When she first saw me, the queen said she wanted mine.

Morpheus gestures to the room’s decor. “Her pet name for stolen hearts. Life-clocks.”

Shivering, I dig my fist into my chest to ease the pain. Hart said she sensed mine was special. She must know it’s damaged. Maybe she can tell me what Red has done to it.

“Alyssa. Why are you so pale?” Morpheus slides down the chaise’s arm to settle next to me. He presses the back of his hand to my cheek, checking my temperature. “You’re positively glacial.”

His hand scorches my skin and I push it away. “I’m just worried.”
About more than I can say.
How can my body be so cold, while a line of lit gasoline burns down the back of my sternum? I clench the edge of the cushions, determined to hold myself together. “We have to get the medallions back . . . and get my uncle and the other knight out of here.”

Pursing his lips, Morpheus catches my wrist and peels off a glove to rest his thumb on my pulse. He frowns, but seems satisfied enough to smooth the glove into place and settle my palm in my lap. “It’s already been handled. Due to my swift thinking, and no thanks to you and your faithlessness.”

“Would you stop that? I wasn’t faithless. You and I aren’t committed to each other yet.”

“Yet.”
His face lights up. “So you
have
envisioned a future with me.”

I fight a wave of tenderness. How can this ageless fae creature be so wise about war and strategies and politics, yet so like a child about relationships and love? “Give me the details of your plan, because I know you have one.”

His chin twitches. “It isn’t exactly a plan. ’Tis more a bargain.”

“That involves me without my consent.” I narrow my eyes. “Strange how often that happens.”

He loosens his tie and clears his throat. “First, let me assure you your relatives are fine. Manti used CC to stage an uprising in the dungeon.”

“Wait . . . so Manti has Jeb’s doppelganger?”

“Yes, the queen gave it to him as a gift. Manti was eager to accept, as elfin knights make the best soldiers. And this one, being a painting, is even more a robot than most. During the confusion in the dungeon, Manti helped your uncle and his comrade escape before the queen could cut out their hearts. Fortunately, they harbored only one medallion between them. Unfortunately, Hart had already confiscated it. She gave it to her guards and told them to hide it, so even she doesn’t know which one hid it or where it is. That way, Red doesn’t know, either. So Hart no longer needs anyone’s help to cross the border to Wonderland. But Red controls half her body and is willing to outsmart her and get the medallion in exchange for certain . . . demands.”

The jewels along Morpheus’s eyes flash to a pale tea green, the color of satisfaction. No surprise, since the demands apparently involve a wedding. Yet I’m still in the dark as to if the ceremony is fake or real.

“Details, Morpheus.”

He leans close to the table and takes the plate of diamond-shaped
tarts, offering me one topped with dripping red fruit that resemble pomegranate seeds. “You should eat. You still look too anemic for my liking.”

I groan at his stalling tactics. “We were told not to bother the tarts.”

Morpheus takes a delicate bite and chews. “Pilfered pastries,” he says between swallows, “are the least of Hart’s worries at the moment.” He sets the plate aside and dabs his lips with a napkin. “She has a traitor in her midst.”

“Manti.” I frown. “I’m confused. I thought you two were enemies.”

“Enemies make the most loyal compatriots, if they share a common goal.” He touches my bottom lip, leaving behind a smear of fruity glaze. He watches as I suck away the bittersweet residue, then he licks the rest of the glaze from his fingertip. At the appearance of his tongue, heat blossoms in my face.

He smirks. “Look at that. I revived the color in your cheeks.”

I scowl. “Can you dial back the seduction? This isn’t the time for romance.”

His answering grin is irrepressible. “On the contrary, any hope for escape hinges on romance. I’ve been watching Manti since I fell into this hellhole. He’s terribly in love with Hart. He had wooed her for centuries, unsuccessfully, until they both landed here. In this world, he has no interference from royal suitors. Not only that, she can be herself . . . Her cruel obsessions, her degradation, they’re embraced by the barbaric denizens. She’s revered for the very actions that resulted in her being shunned from our world. Manti believes it would break her spirit if she went back. And he fears he’d lose her to another king. He won’t let that happen, even if it means tricking her.”

I glare at him. “The parallels are striking.”

Morpheus blinks at me, unfazed. “Aren’t they? Since I know how the lovesick fool thinks, he was easy to manipulate.”

“Which means you were behind the raid on the mountain.”
Just like I suspected.

“For the most part,” Morpheus admits. “I told Manti how to get there, what to take, and what to leave standing. You and Jebediah managed to thwart my plan to have you hand-delivered. But I knew . . .” His dark eyes glitter and he caresses my cheek. “I knew you wouldn’t leave me to die. So I told Chessie the queen was planning to gut out my chest.”

My entire body bristles with a mix of frustration and fury. I start to stand, but Morpheus holds me down.

“For the record,” he says, “I was at death’s door. Red was debating whether to kill me herself or feed me to the eels beneath the drawbridge. It took some fast talking to convince her I had anything to offer in exchange for my pitiful life. And had you not come to fulfill that trade, I would be eel fodder as we speak.”

I shake my head. “So, the antidote for my dad. That was insurance.”

“Your human conscience wouldn’t let you leave me here after saving Thomas, even if it managed to overpower your darker side’s love for me.”

I’m about to berate his tactics, to deny any feelings for him, when he cups the nape of my neck and presses his lips to mine, velvety soft. It’s nothing but a peck, yet the flavor of the tart he sampled lingers like a warm, savory bruise—an irresistible torment to the netherling within.

He draws back and my skin glistens, radiant prisms reflected off
his face and the cushions. I’m gripping his jacket lapels, yet I don’t even remember reaching for him.

“No more denials,” he says as he presses his left hand over one of mine. “I’ve seen the love in your eyes and in your actions. I felt it yesterday when I held you in my arms, and today, when you came to save me. Which is why my arrangement with Red for the medallion should not be thought of as a ploy or a bargain, but as the next logical step of our relationship.”

I release his lapels. “Logical? A
wedding
? So we’re going to fake it, right?”

“How can we fake it if Red is inside of you? No, it must be authentic. And eternal.” He smiles blissfully—all boyish naiveté and worldly charm in one exquisite being.

I must have a pained expression on my face, because he trails his thumb across my eye markings.

“Alyssa, we are going to have the most glorious future. You’ll see.”

It can’t happen, for so many reasons. One of them is my vow to Jeb. But there’s another obvious reason. “It’s too soon. We’re only starting to know each other.”

Morpheus’s brow furrows. “We shared a childhood.”

I knit my fingers nervously. “It was all innocent . . . playing . . . training. It takes time for a human to grow into that kind of commitment. It takes a trial by fire.”

“Ah. We will have our trial by fire. ’Tis a netherling tradition for the couple to walk through a circle of flames, to burn away the tethers of their past and start life anew, pristine. Like purifying precious metal.”

The image of us in the midst of Wonderland’s sun revisits: waltzing
barefoot as our clothes catch sparks and burn away, embracing one another with no reservations.

A tingle of anticipation races through me, but I suppress it. “No. Not literal,
symbolic
. Giving and taking. Learning to understand and trust one another through any situation. I’ve had that with Jeb, for six years. I’m only starting to have it with you.”

Morpheus grunts, low in his chest. “I am not going to wait around and play second fiddle to Jebediah while your mortal side grows to understand and trust me.”

“You’re not second best. You and I get to have forever.
Forever.
Jeb has one life. It’s only fair I spend it with him.” I dance around the truth, as close as I’m willing to get.

“
Fair?
All this time, he’s been with you during your waking hours. I’ve ever only had you in your dreams. I want you in reality. I’ve waited for what feels like a thousand years already. It is time for our forever to begin.”

He’s not thinking this through. “Do you really want to start our life together while I’m harboring Red’s spirit?”

“We both knew you’d be carrying her out of this world.” The statement is matter-of-fact, but compassion softens his voice. “And you will
still
defeat her. The only thing that’s changed is she wants assurance you aren’t to abandon your royal responsibilities again. She knows if we’re wed, you’ll ne’er leave Wonderland. It was the one way I could get her to agree to hand over the medallion. And she refuses to make the exchange until the marriage is official. Surely you can see I had no choice.”

Ivory’s vision clambers through my mind with the sound of a toddler’s footfalls, knocking my worst fear loose: Red’s found a way
to get everything she ever wanted. To have me marry the only netherling who can give her access to a dream-child, and to be ringside in my body as it happens. She’s planning to use our offspring for her revenge. But how?

I get to my feet and back away. “I thought that for once you had no ulterior motives. You’re no longer under Deathspeak. No longer trying to prevent Red’s destructive tide across the nether-realm. Your only motivation was to leave AnyElsewhere, repair Wonderland, and have me beside you there.”

“That
is
my only motivation.” His bejeweled eye markings are the sincerest shade of crystal, like human tears.

I back up more, my boots dragging on the shag carpet.

He stands cautiously, as if I were a wild animal he’s trying not to spook. “Alyssa, we’re shut inside a room with four walls. It’s not as if you can run from me, or whatever this is you’re accusing me of.”

I groan. “The reason Red lured Alice into the rabbit hole was to change the very foundation on which Wonderland is built. She wanted to introduce dreams and imagination into the bloodline, so netherlings would no longer have to depend on the human realm for them.”

By his shocked expression, it’s obvious this is the first he’s heard of her plan. “That’s a far nobler quest than I ever thought her capable of.”

“Not noble. There’s no way she’ll let the dreams be free, let them be accessible to everyone. She wants to control that power so she’ll be the most feared and dreaded queen of all time. Yes. Yes, that’s got to be it.” I shiver from head to toe, too horrified to even consider what I’m saying next. “I won’t let her use him like that.”

“Him?
” The question slips from Morpheus’s mouth on a shaky breath.

Panic sluices through me—a rush of cold and hot. It’s too late to take back what I said. I hold my breath, waiting to see if I feel different . . . if there’s a physical drain as my powers fade away.

But nothing happens. With just a thought, I coax the papers on the easel to flip and flutter in place. It hits me that I haven’t broken the vow; I didn’t specify our child in my statement.
Him
is anonymous. Netherling vows are all about technicalities in the wording.

In fact, come to think of it, I promised Ivory never to
tell
anyone about the vision she shared, but I didn’t say I wouldn’t
show
anyone.

I stop beside the easel. We’ve already ruined the Queen of Hearts’ pastries. What’s a few opened paint containers?

Morpheus moves behind me to look over my wings, close enough that his clothes snag on my dress’s tiers with tiny popping sounds. I can feel the tension coming off him.

I remove my gloves. After opening three colors—red, blue, and black—I plunge my finger into one, letting the cold goo cover the tip. I work in mosaics. It’s not easy to portray what I’ve seen in my head using paint and paper. I don’t have Jeb’s skill, his light strokes, the ability to translate inner shapes and lines of gravity. But I do my best, sketching a rough image of me in my monarch dress, Morpheus in his suit, and a tiny boy with my eyes, his daddy’s blue hair, and wings.

Before I’ve even drawn the finishing touch of crowns on our heads, Morpheus backs up and drops into the chair where he laid his hat and gloves, crushing them. For the first time, he doesn’t seem to care.

The gems on his temples and cheeks glimmer a deep royal blue, as if he’s moonstruck. “You’ve seen him,” he whispers.

I don’t answer.

“When? How?” he asks.