Since we’d visited Alice’s prison, we had to visit his next. Our tour wouldn’t be complete without stopping here. This is the last place he saw young Alice, the last place she was free before the card guards captured her. The place where the Caterpillar once sat to offer advice and friendship, and where Chessie’s decapitated head floated by, just as Alice found the Caterpillar mummified in a cocoon, unable to help her as he transformed into a beautiful, alluring humanoid fae.

That particular winged man would not be fully formed and free to help her until seventy-five years later, after she’d already lost her mind to age and madness. He’s never forgiven himself for being absent when Alice needed him most.

“You know now . . . that it wasn’t your fault. Right?” My question carries over the swish of grass under his feet.

He doesn’t answer, but I’m not giving up. He needs to let go of the guilt.

“It was Red’s plan all along. She was in my body, in my head. I saw what she kept hidden. She had a vision, back when she still wore the crown. It told her that Alice was the key to everything. That an immortal dream-child would be born through Red’s lineage if she trapped Alice Liddell and lived her human life. Red would’ve made it happen—even if you’d been free to offer Alice help. She was so determined, she made herself forget how to be merciful. That’s something you can’t be responsible for. I won’t have you blaming yourself. Not another day.”

Morpheus’s steps grow slower. “Thank you, blossom. I needed to hear that. But you are mistaken. That isn’t the guilt I’m battling.”

He stops, his back to me, wings drooping.

“I don’t understand,” I say, stalled a few feet behind. I give him space even though I want to touch him, to turn him so I can read his face.

“I brought you into this, just like your mum accused. I never gave you a choice. I put everything into motion—causing you to release Red from the cemetery to save my spirit from being imprisoned. Wonderland fell to rot and you nearly died. And I let you take the blame for it all, whilst knowing that I was the catalyst.”

My jaw drops. I did not just hear an actual confession. Not from him. Did I?

Stepping up between his wings, I wrap my arms around his torso and press my cheek to his back, seeking the echo of his heartbeat with my palms. “You weren’t the catalyst. Red was. And I made mistakes, too. I failed to follow your instructions for my wish.”

“But you were driven by compassion, and a desire to save another. It’s innate in you.”

“It’s innate in you, too. You saved my dad’s life. Twice. Kept Jeb out of the hands of the prisoners for a month. And chose not to crown me and strip away my humanity. All those things took compassion. You forgave my mistakes, so I forgive yours. We start fresh from here.”

“How?” he asks, and I’m touched by the sincere bewilderment in his voice.

I hold him closer. “An old childhood playmate once told me: ‘Second-guessing every step prevents any forward momentum. Trust yourself, forgive yourself, and move on.’”

His wings lift on either side of me, as if they weigh less. His hands find mine where they’re laced at his chest. “Your playmate sounds wise. And handsome, too.” There’s a smile in the statement.

I muffle a laugh against the back muscles twitching under his jacket. “Oh, he is. And humble. Humility is his best quality.”

He snorts softly, then breaks our embrace and secures my gloved palm in his as he leads me just a few more steps, where the mushrooms’ dense growth patterns form a dead end. I know what to expect even before we step inside. Still, I gasp when I see it in the phosphorescent moonlight: a mushroom bigger than a garden shed, half-cloaked in a webby cocoon.

Morpheus watches my reaction. Nostalgia flashes through his expressive gems—along with regret and then tranquility.

I’m hoping I had a hand in that last emotion.

We step up to the mushroom together. The air chills as the shadow envelops us, cutting off the starlight overhead.

“Why did it happen?” I ask, looking at the giant cap. “What made you change from the Caterpillar?”

“It was simply time. Time for me to take my most immaculate form. The one I would wear for all eternity. There were things I needed to do that couldn’t be accomplished in my inferior form. We each have a gradual metamorphosis. You’ve been going through yours your entire life thus far. You’re still not quite there. But one day, you will be complete at last. You will shed your mortality to be the queen Wonderland needs. And then you will have nowhere left to belong but here.”

I swallow hard, because the thought is both inspiring and wondrous. “What was it like for you? Being trapped inside a cocoon for seventy-five years? Was it lonely?”

His profile smiles. “Surely you jest. I had Wonderland’s most fascinating and charming netherling to keep me company.”

I laugh. “Like I said, humble.”

The amused expression on his face grows grim. “It wasn’t company I missed. It was my magic and Wonderland’s landscapes. Being without them. It was torment . . .”

His voice trails. Of course. He’s a solitary fae. Their one true companion—their passion—is Wonderland itself. I think of how he acted after we escaped AnyElsewhere and finally found our way back here. How he stood in the middle of the frozen tulgey wood, wings arced high, and used his blue lightning to shake down tufts of snow from the branches. How he laughed and danced in the downpour. He was carefree and playful, drunk on magic after having been without it so long. And that was after only a month. I can’t imagine how it would be after decades.

“I wonder if it was different for Red,” I conjecture aloud. “She did the same thing, in a way. Gave up her magic for Alice’s imprint. Lived years and years in the human realm without her powers . . . grew old—” I cut my words short, seeing how intently he’s watching me in the moonlight. “Would you be happy?” I ask before he can admit what he’s thinking. It’s incredible how I can read him now. “Living out your life with Finley’s imprint. Aging under his visage in the human realm. Because you wouldn’t be able to use your magic if you wore an imprint.”

Morpheus’s jaw twitches. “Perhaps I could learn to tolerate it.”

“Tolerating a future with me. There is nothing romantic or fulfilling about that scenario.” I place a hand on his arm. “Remember what I told you earlier in the dodo’s cave . . . about the experiences mortality has to offer?”

His eyes meet mine, but hard as he tries, he can’t hide the sickly green flash to his jeweled markings. He looks away, nose crinkled. “Ugh. I remember how pathetically pedestrian they are.”

I nod. “To you, yes. You’re not made for that life. You’re meant to be eternally young . . . free to soar in the skies here in Wonderland. To watch over the world you love. I don’t want you faking it every day for me. It would be another prison, just like your cocoon. Another span of decades without the madness and magic that make you know you’re alive. But me? Ever since I was a child, I’ve aspired to have those pedestrian experiences. It’s hardwired to my genetic makeup. And Jeb’s—”