By the time I flutter out of the cage, Morpheus is pinned to the wall in paper binds, struggling to break free—the proverbial moth in a web. My web.

As beautiful as he is when he’s alight with power, poise, and potency, there’s something undeniably alluring about him captured and at my mercy.

The queen in me purrs.

Leisurely, I fly to the chair where he laid his jacket and search his pocket for the amplifying pastry. After several bites, I return to my natural size and alight on the floor to face him.

At my command, the chains tighten around his chest and arms. Yes, this scene is familiar. Except last time, I coaxed Red’s vines from within me to hold him prisoner.

“You said you liked to play rough,” I taunt.

“I can give as good as I get.” He stares at me, unflinching. “Should I so choose,” he adds, and ignites his magic enough to slice through the chains on one wrist—sure proof that he could cut them all loose if he wanted. Yet he doesn’t. His eye patches glitter in prismatic disarray, hiding whatever it is he’s feeling.

“Well, I’m in no mood to play anyway,” I answer, angry I can’t read him. Or maybe I’m flustered that he doesn’t break free and fight back . . . that there’s no teasing twitch at his lips or yellow flash through his jeweled markings. “Tell me why I shouldn’t drag you to court. Holding the queen hostage is treason.”

He growls. Long strands of unruly enchanted blue hair slap across his chin and tease out a grimace. “You’re under a vow to spend twelve hours with me. Back out now, and lose all those pretty powers you so love to flaunt.”

I force a smile. “Oh, I’m not abandoning my vow. I’ll sit with you in the dungeon for our remaining eight hours while you wait to be sentenced.”

He grunts. “For your information, I wasn’t hungry . . . nor was I small.”

I tilt my head. “What are you babbling about?”

Sighing, he looks down at the chains clamped around his chest. “If I hadn’t wanted you to triumph, I would ne’er have put the pastry in my pocket and brought it in. It certainly wasn’t for me.”

His logic rings true. I command the chains to release him. They gather in a limp, snaky pile at his feet.

He stays pressed against the wall as if held in place by the imprints left upon his skin. His wings splay out behind him—majestic and proud—his only cushion against the stone.

I step up to him. “You’ve always claimed to have faith in me,” I press, sympathy and frustration twisting my insides to a perplexed pretzel. “So why do I have to keep walking over coals for you?”

He frowns, managing to look both apologetic and haughty at the same time. “I had to trap you. To remind you of your better half. You want so much to be Alice . . . the Alice that could’ve been. I fear you’ll become her in every way. Helpless. Human. Unless you keep your guard up. You must never be a victim like she was. I saw you almost die yesterday. Your heart splitting in twain.” His chin trembles. “I can ne’er face that again. So I will let you go for your own sake, to fulfill your mundane human expectations. At least, since you’re visiting me in dreams each night, I’m fairly certain you won’t forget us like you did as a child.”

His accusation scores through me. “I didn’t mean to. I was so little . . .”

“I’m not blaming you, Alyssa. It was unavoidable. You would not have been the same person, capable of compassion and imagination, without those uninterrupted human experiences. You couldn’t have functioned in the mortal world and learned what you needed to if you were constantly yearning to stir up trouble with me in Wonderland. After seeing the destruction that Red’s single-minded cruelty and lack of compassion had wrought, I knew something had to change in the royal bloodline.”

“Even if it took you stepping back to make it happen.” Once again, I’m floored by the scope of his machinations. By his love for our world. I slide my hand along the buttons of his shirt. “All you need to know now is that I will never forget you again, or my feelings for you. Never. Even if I weren’t spending my dreams in Wonderland.” My fingers stop at the satiny fabric over his heartbeat.

His lashes flutter closed. He presses his hand over mine. “I need to know more than that. You must survive each day we aren’t together, so you can come back—come back to take your place upon the Red throne in reality, forever. I need that assurance, or I can’t . . . won’t . . . let you out of my sight.”

“I’m immortal. I have crown magic in my blood.”

His lashes lift and he meets my gaze. “As indicated by your vulnerable heart, your body is not indestructible. Especially in the mortal realm. You will age there. And if your shell is destroyed or dies, your eternal spirit will be left an orphan. Unless you can find a new vessel, it will wither away. A netherling spirit cannot exist for more than a few hours without being housed within a body, or tucked safely within the cemetery, tended by Sister One or Sister Two’s magic. So do not make me find a new home for your life essence. You must come back to this world, whole. Yourself, in every way.”

Even without his gems revealing his moods, I see it so clearly: the raw vulnerability he’s been hiding behind smoke and illusion all night. There’s so much more he’s afraid of losing than Wonderland’s Red Queen. His childhood friend, his future bride . . . their dream-child. These are the fears that cast shadows behind his plea.

“I promised you once that I would come back to you,” I assure him. “Trust in that. In my strength. You’ve taught me well. Will you ever be convinced I’m worthy of your faith? Worthy enough to stop testing me?”

“I’ve always had faith in you, blossom. It’s putting the future in someone’s hands other than my own that I’m having difficulty with. But I will try.” He draws me into a hug, his fingers bunching inside the long strands of hair at my nape. “No more tricks tonight.”

I snuggle against his chest, dragging in a breath to saturate myself in his scent. My heart tugs toward him, a powerful, invigorating hum behind my sternum.

“You win.” His muffled admission stirs the hair at the top of my head, so quiet I almost don’t hear it.

My pulse jumps. I win. After all these years, I finally bettered my playmate on his own turf. But any gratification eludes me, because I also left him a little broken.

There’s no satisfaction in tonight’s victory. It’s never been about my being stronger or more manipulative than him . . . it was about making him happy and proud by proving I was his equal. It was about wanting to see him smile. The way he did when we were children—carefree, and unkempt.

Only I’d forgotten that, until just now.

MEMORY THREE: IN WHICH I HEALED WONDERLAND

The damp incense of fungus mingles with an earthy, grassy scent. Mushrooms loom overhead, their caps the size of truck tires. I half flutter, half run behind Morpheus through the tall, fluorescent grass. My dress’s long skirt snags on the grass in intervals, eliciting tiny popping sounds. But that’s the only thing I hear. Wonderland is quiet tonight, due to almost all the citizens attending the ball at Ivory’s.

Morpheus is pensive and quiet. His wings drape from his shoulders at the back of his jacket, his stride long and purposeful. I’m having trouble keeping up, even though I clear the ground every four steps or so. Other than assuring me the tricks were behind us, he’s barely spoken since we left the dodo’s cave. He didn’t tell me where we were going, but I already knew.