The Lost Codex Page 29

  The twist of her mouth is so damn bittersweet. She doesn’t believe me.

  Well, I’m just going to have to prove it, then.

  I erase the space between us. Her eyes shine brighter than the Mississippi on a sunny day before she tucks her head against my shoulder. I kiss her forehead. Breathe her in. “Don’t give up on us so easily, because I sure as hell am not.”

  My shirt twists in her fingers as she fights to hold back her denial—or her admission of acceptance.

  “We have true love on our side, remember?” My words are for her, and her alone. “Besides, binary stars cannot function without the other. We’ve faced a lot of obstacles so far, and we’ve bested all of them. We’re still standing, and we’re standing together. That isn’t going to change.”

  I feel her swallow against my chest. “This is different. There is no villain to slay, no person to blame or hold accountable. This is a prophecy. My prophecy.”

  “A prophecy,” I remind her, “that was written long before you even knew I existed. Long before Alice Liddell’s and Huckleberry Finn’s stories ever crossed paths. That prophecy has nothing to do with me. You have to trust me. I know it seems hard right now, but I’m asking you, Alice. Give me some time to work through this. Show you that I am right.”

  Her grip on me tightens, digging into my skin. Rather than hurt, I take comfort in just how close she turns into my body, how hard her entire frame shakes. “I want you to be.” Her warm, breathy hope seeps through my ridiculous tunic. “So very much.”

  There is no way I will lose this woman, not without a fight. Not without her explicitly telling me that she is done with me and our relationship.

  As much as I want to take her back to our tent and show her how much I love and believe in her, our time is limited. Each minute that ticks by will only compound her belief in this preposterous mistake. I know I am not a king. But how to prove it?

  I’m both irritated and a bit relieved to find the other Wonderlandian monarchs still present in the hall, although it appears Jace herded them, alongside the Society agents and Grand Advisors, to the opposite side.

  “We’ve got a Piper to catch,” I gently tell Alice, “and the Queen of Hearts, and we also need to figure out what the hell just happened. And I cannot do it without your help, partner.”

  It takes a few seconds, but she lifts her head. Offers her agreement, even if it comes off as less resolute than what I’ve become accustomed to.

  But still. She’s by my side.

  The remaining crowd is clustered around the King of Hearts’ body. Victor laid his jacket over his face so the gore isn’t quite as visible anymore, but a puddle of darkened blood stains the checkered floor.

  Alice and I join them. I’m tempted to kick the Hearts crown straight out of the door. “Why would the King of Hearts commit suicide?”

  “He wasn’t a very clever man.” The Red King twirls both sides of his mustache. I’m pretty sure that it’s waxed so heavily that, if a wick was inserted, it could serve as a candle. “Or strong.” When Jace snorts derisively, the Red King stomps his foot like a petulant child. “Do you have something to say, White?”

  Jace’s obvious amusement is probably chapping the Red King’s ass . . . well, red. “As you have yet to fight a single battle, let alone eat a meal by yourself, you are certainly not one to talk.”

  I snap my fingers. “Focus on the matter at hand. Had the King of Hearts ever shown a predilection toward suicide before?”

  For the first time in our acquaintance, I earn a not-so-friendly glare from the White King. “Not to my knowledge. The former King of Hearts was renowned for his love of life and all that it offered.”

  “What is wrong with that?” The Red Queen begins waltzing with an unseen partner, to unheard music. Her steps are formal, her arms outstretched. “He held much love for sex, for food and pleasure, for horse racing and gambling. He would copulate with anything that moved.” She swoops past Alice and me, gloved fingers meant for a partners’ shoulder trailing instead across ours. “Save his wife.”

  “Oh, Hearts.” The White Queen tut-tuts, petting the partially sewn rath. “So pathetically desperate for feelings he could never give her.” The White Queen cocks her head as she glances down at the man’s shell. “He married her, but that was as much as he was willing to give. A queen should never beg for love. It is very unseemly. She takes.”

  The Red Queen circles the White Queen, her shoes tapping out a soft pattern upon the floor. “Did you not beg once, White? Did you not plead with your counterpart to marry you?”

  The White Queen lifts the rath’s mouth open and hisses for it.

  Brom’s shadow looms over mine. “His entire demeanor changed once he noticed you, Finn.”

  I scratch the back of my neck, thankful that someone is staying on topic. “I was announced at the beginning, though.”

  “He wasn’t paying attention to you then. It wasn’t until you specifically started talking about the Queen of Hearts that he noticed you.” My father frowns as he strokes his dark beard. “When he stood up, it seemed very much as if it weren’t upon his own volition. And when he took the blade to his throat, his hand shook. There was fear in his eyes. He didn’t want to die.”

  “Who is this?” The Red Queen’s dance stops. “How dare this commoner speak in our presence! Why is this hairy nobody here?”

  Mary, who had been quietly talking with Victor, Marianne, and the A.D., suddenly pushes forward. “She did not just say that.”

  The Red Queen snatches up her scepter and jabs it at Mary. There is a ring of needles sticking out around the red-jeweled center.

  Alice steps in her line of sight. “These people are here at my bequest.”

  “You should not be here, though.” The Red Queen peers down the length of her Romanesque nose at Alice. “Perhaps you are the reason the former Hearts is dead. The prophecy is ringing true! Your presence in Wonderland brings with it death and destruction!”

  My strong, beautiful Alice, who battles giants and fiends without a second thought, grows smaller right before my eyes. Did she find a DRINK ME bottle without me noticing?

  Jace whirls the vorpal blade toward the Red Queen. “Say another word, and your crown, too, will search for a new owner before night falls.”

  This isn’t right. Alice doesn’t need him to fight her battles. Hell, she doesn’t need me to fight them, either. Alice can eviscerate someone with fewer words than anyone else I know. Even in those early days at the Institute, when she was still finding her footing, she was razor sharp.

  Now, though . . . now, Alice whispers, “She is right. I. . .” Her blue eyes, unnaturally glassy, shift uneasily through the small crowd in the hall. “It was hubris, I suppose, believing that the strengths of my convictions would persevere over the prophecy. I thought that because I came to hunt the Piper, Wonderland would overlook my presence, as it did when I came to claim its catalyst.” She presses her hand against her mouth as she turns back to me.

  It’s as if she drank another damn bottle of DRINK ME.

  “Don’t even go there,” I warn.

  The Librarian inserts herself between the White King and Alice. “We do not have time for this.”

  Alice rears back, as if she’d been smartly slapped. Jace growls, the vorpal blade switching targets.

  “We all have histories that are not the easiest.” Even though I don’t think she reaches five feet, somehow the Librarian towers over the small crowd. “Abraham lost his wife, his entire Timeline. Finn and Victor, their mother and family. Finn’s childhood was traumatic; Victor’s health the same. Shall we go over what they faced at the hands of the Piper and the Chosen?” The Wonderlanders actually dare to try to argue, so she presses on. “Mary’s parents died when she was young, and everyone forgot about her, leaving her to die, too. Jack grew up a thief, poor, badly used by a scoundrel,”—the A.D. yelps in protest—“jailed, and sent to Australia as punishment. Marianne’s husband died; her father died and her b
rother cut her off, and a swine broke her heart. Shall I go on, Alice? Is your pain the only one we must focus on?”

  The Librarian’s touch is heavy, but when Alice’s fists curl tightly at her sides, I know my girl found some EAT ME cakes and grew back to her right size.

  “This, as we all know, is no game. Crowns, thrones, and all the rest are meaningless as long as Timelines are at risk. The Chosen are wreaking havoc upon Wonderland. We know they are connected to the Queen of Hearts. Turn your focus onto these villains and do what you do best, Alice. Find them and kick their asses.”

  “Holy shite!” the A.D. crows quietly. “I’ve never heard her cuss like that.”

  Marianne swats him, as does Mary. His yelp is satisfying.

  The Librarian picks up the Hearts crown. “Oh, and Alice?”

  Alice says nothing, but her focus is riveted upon the wily woman.

  The Librarian sniffs—sniffs!—the gold and jewels. “I know you revel in your stubbornness, but listen to him, will you?”

  “Who are these Chosen who dare to wreak havoc in Wonderland?” the Red King roars. Tapestries and banners flutter as he sends a goblet full of wine soaring through the air. “Why have I not heard of this before?”

  The White Queen sidles closer to him, rubbing the rath against his arm. Her gleaming whip is in full view, and if I didn’t know better, I would insist that it was alive and begging to be used. “Ah-ah, little bandersnatch, asking such a thing, when for all we know, you are still in league with Hearts.”

  “Me?” he sputters, spittle frothing in his ginger beard. “With that she-devil?”

  The White Queen drags the whip’s coils across the Red King’s cheek as she circles him. “Did you think her a she-devil when you copulated with her?”

  His cheeks violently blend in with his hair.

  “When you copulated with her,” the White Queen sing-songs, nudging the rath’s sharp nuzzle of teeth at the front of his trousers, “for years and years and called her your great love each time your seed spilled out?”

  Jace surges forward, snatching the Red King’s collar. So fast that they’re almost a blur, he has his opponent slammed up against a tapestry, feet dangling off the ground. “How long?”

  The Red King spits in Jace’s face, which earns him a solid fist just below the left eye. Jace shouts his question, the vorpal blade pointed at the other man’s throat.

  “What the hell is happening right now?” Mary asks for the majority of the non-natives.

  Next to me, Alice pales even impossibly more.

  “I am terribly shocked.” The Red Queen may say this, but she makes no motion to come to her counterpart’s aid. In fact, she yawns—leisurely and lengthily. “I had no idea Red had such terrible taste in bed partners.”

  Still dangling in Jace’s grip, the Red King sneers, his chuckling more wheezing than jeering. This time, the White King slams the butt of the vorpal blade against his other cheek, and it knocks the Red King’s head against the wall so hard that, afterward, it lolls like a doll’s. Jace releases his hold, and the Red King drops to the ground. His skull bounces twice on the parquet, meaning it’ll be some time before he wakes.

  Victor darts forward, instinct and the Hippocratic Oath no doubt kicking in, but the White King swings the vorpal blade toward my brother. “Assist him at your own detriment, Doctor.”

  Ally or no, nobody threatens my brother. Gun out and ready, I tell the White King, “You better back the fuck down.”

  He doesn’t acknowledge me, not even when I cock my gun. The vorpal blade doesn’t waver one bit as it closes in on my brother’s chest.

  Victor holds both hands up. “He could have a concussion.”

  The tip of blade hits the patch of cloth over Victor’s heart. “Then he will be lucky that is the worst of it so far.”

  Fuck him. I shove the barrel of my gun against the White King’s forehead. “Put. The. Sword. Down.”

  “Don’t hesitate, Finn,” Mary hisses. “Don’t you dare hesitate.”

  The White Queen snuggles the rath so tightly feathers snow in her wake. She presses up against the other side of the White King. “Oh, my poor little monster, learning now, after all that has happened, that the prophecy concerning shuffled decks could have referred to Red and Hearts, not White and Diamonds!”

  “Let us allow cooler heads to prevail.” Brom’s hands are up, too, as he approaches his eldest son. “Tensions are high right now, but if we all put our weapons down and talk—”

  “Our monster doesn’t wish for talk, does he, Diamonds?” The White Queen rubs her cheek against Jace’s sleeve. “Not when he’s like this. He covets blood, not words.”

  “Put your sword away.” I shove the gun harder against the White King’s temple. “Victor isn’t your enemy. Neither am I—but if you dare to hurt him, I will be.”

  “Listen to him.”

  At Alice’s quiet demand, Jace swiftly sheaths the vorpal sword. I holster my gun as he staggers several steps back. Without seeking anyone’s permission, Victor squats next to the Red King. “Mary, get my bag.”

  “The Courts were uneven,” Alice says. “Do not forget that part of the prophecy.”

  It’s then that I realize that she, too, must have realized that the relationship between the Red King and the Queen of Hearts was more than too many drinks or a one-night stand.

  Eight years, I think. Alice and Jace were together for eight years. They planned to spend their lives together, but were forced apart by a prophecy.

  And today they learned it might not have referred to them at all, or at least the White King thought it a possibility.

  Acid roils in the pit of my stomach. Alice remains quiet, pale, and my world continues to shift off axis.

  “You’re a right bitch, aren’t you?” After handing Victor his bag, Mary is only a foot or so away from the White Queen. She continues hotly, “Was that really the time to reveal that juicy bit of gossip?”

  The White Queen regards my friend as if she were a common housefly in need of swatting.

  “Didn’t you hear a word the Librarian said?” Mary jabs a finger against the White Queen’s breastbone, eliciting a nasty hiss. “We don’t have time for this petty shit. The Chosen are here! You really are crazy, aren’t you?”

  The White Queen throws back her arm, her whip uncoiling. Alice darts forward, snatching the vorpal blade right out of Jace’s belt, and inserts herself between Mary and the monarch.

  “This woman is under my protection, and if a single drop of blood is spilled, I will extract retribution.”

  She sounds like Alice—the Alice I know.

  “Do you dare to break our alliance?” the White Queen seethes.

  “Over this woman?” Alice queries. “Or any of the people that journeyed here with me? Absolutely. I would die for each and every single one of them without question or thought.”

  The A.D. clasps his hands over his heart. “I knew she loved me.”

  “Nobody is breaking any alliances.” Thunder rolls throughout the hall as the Librarian comes to stand next to Alice. “Not when we need as much intelligence and cooperation as possible in order to best the Chosen and the Queen of Hearts in her secret lair.”

  “This again.” The Red Queen studies her long, sharp nails. “Why do foreigners care so much about Hearts?”

  “Maybe if everyone would shut the hell up and listen instead of going off tangent so much,” I snap, patience thin as my remaining hair, “we could tell you.”

  The Red Queen’s smile is vicious. “What a delicious King of Hearts you will make.”

  “The Prince of Adámas is correct.” Alice backs away from the White Queen. “For once, let us put our bickering to the side and come together for Wonderland’s sake.”

  Prince, not king. A small step.

  “Are you proposing an alliance?” The Red Queen lifts a glittery eyebrow up. “Is that not moot, considering you are still in exile?”

  A much calmer Jace says, “I propose an allia
nce between the four Courts of Wonderland, along with a ceasefire, so we may hunt down the Queen of Hearts and eradicate the Chosen.”

  Four Courts.

  He expects me, as the King of Hearts, to agree to this.

  “Three of us already allied.” The White Queen plucks a rose from her hair and offers it to me. “With the King of Hearts, we are four. What say you, Red?”

  Alice snatches the rose and tears out all of the petals.

  The Red Queen runs a fingernail, long and blood red, along her chin line. “I cannot speak for my counterpart, considering he is a sack of potatoes.”

  “No one is asking you to,” Jace snaps.

  The Red Queen taps on her chin. “Why should I care about Hearts’ deeds—or these Chosen?”

  “Because these Chosen are turning Wonderlanders into creatures very unlike themselves,” Alice says quietly, “who serve a non-Wonderlander.”

  The Red Queen snorts. “Impossible. Wonderlanders are Wonderlanders. The only non-Wonderlanders to breech our borders have been the Queen of Diamonds and those in her party.” She blows me a kiss. “Including our new King of Hearts.”

  “With magic,” the White Queen coos, “nothing is impossible, Red.”

  This does not move the Red Queen, though—or at least, not entirely. “Say this is true. What do the Chosen have to do with Hearts?”

  Alice says flatly, “The Chosen wear Hearts’ insignia. It is as I said before. I have a witness who will testify to this.”

  “Agree to the alliance, and to peace, even temporarily,” Jace says, “and we will share all that we know.”

  “I control only my half of the Red army, lest you forget. His half,” she motions to the still unconscious Red King, “will be free to wage war as he sees fit.”

  “Take his half,” the White Queen says. “And when he wakes, tell him he will do as you say, for the good of our fair land. Besides.” Her mouth curves so wide, I wonder if she is somehow related to the Cheshire-Cat. “Who better to tell us secrets than Hearts’ lover?”

  The Red Queen sashays over to where the Hearts crown lies. “I will join your little alliance, agree to peace, and offer my support and armies upon a few conditions.”