The Lost Codex Read online

  Jace crosses his arms. “Name them.”

  She picks up the crown and dusts it off. “The newly chosen King of Hearts agrees to wear his crown, use his title, and rule his armies and lands.”

  The bitch smiles all too sweetly as she offers me the gold and ruby-clad monstrosity.

  I’m just about to tell her where she can go fuck herself when the Librarian takes the offending piece of royal jewelry. She yanks the Adámas circlet off my head and plops on the Hearts crown. “Agreed.”

  IT IS A MIRACLE that my friends and colleagues from the Institute have not yet run back to the rabbit hole in Nobbytown in order to flee Wonderland. Truthfully, now that I am no longer under the influence of Wonderlandian drugs, I am sorely tempted to do so myself.

  Word is sent for all armies, save the Queen of Hearts, to uproot to the Keep. Whilst a formal temporary peace decree is signed by all of the ruling monarchs present, myself and Finn included, official news was not spread to the lands. Hearts is to be kept in the dark at the true extent of our collusion.

  She will soon enough know the depth and scope of it.

  The Red King is placed under formal Distrust by the rest of the Courts, including his own counterpart, and assigned guards from each to monitor his moves, lest he report back to Hearts. He argues vociferously against the need, but with five votes outweighing his one, he has no leg to stand upon. His only hope is to now prove himself loyal to Wonderland, not Hearts, something he insists he will do with aplomb.

  He throws his arms wide open, his head back, a bruised and battered martyr without his cross. “You will all rue the day you doubted where the strength of my loyalties lie!”

  The Red Queen grabs hold of his cock. “Here, Red. They have always been here.”

  He can tell us little about Hearts save her favorite wines and sexual positions.

  It takes hours to fully debrief the Wonderlandian monarchs and their Grand Advisors. The bickering and fighting sidetracks Van Brunt and the Librarian so many times that even Marianne takes to shouting. The Chosen piper is brought in, administered truth serum, and forced to tell all what has long been suspected.

  The Queen of Hearts is in league with the Chosen. Worse, the youth saw the Piper and Hearts together in Wonderland on more than one occasion. Worse yet was the revelation that a woman matching the thirteenth Wise Woman’s appearance was seen in the presence of Hearts and the Piper, too.

  She lives.

  Both Finn and Victor remain stony with the news.

  It isn’t until dawn and the Flowers begin their wakeup songs do the Society agents finish conveying all that we know about the Piper and Chosen, via reports, computers (which the White Queen likens to sorcery), and recordings.

  The Carpenter, the Red King’s Grand Advisor, shucks a fresh batch of oysters. “I find it terribly difficult to believe that Her Majesty would be in collusion with this Piper and his witch.”

  The Librarian snaps the pencil she’d been toying with in half. “Have you not listened to a word we’ve said? Or to the prisoner?”

  The Carpenter tosses a shell on his plate. “Prisoners can say lots of things when tortured.”

  The Cheshire-Cat knocks a glass on the table over with his stubby tail. “I barely tortured him. His scratches are minimal, at best.”

  “We used truth serum,” Mary says. “It wasn’t torture.”

  The Carpenter slurps several oysters. “Seems unstable.”

  “It’s science!” Mary sputters.

  The Carpenter taps on his nose. “Sorcery, you mean.”

  Although I know him to be exhausted, Finn leans forward, his elbows against the table, the infernal Hearts crown glittering upon his brow. “Look, both Whites have given you sworn testimony that the pipers in Nobbytown wear the Queen of Hearts regalia. We at the Society have witnessed the Queen of Hearts in the presence of known Chosen figures. You just listened to the questioning of one of the Chosen guaranteeing she’s been working with them. So yeah, we’re pretty damn certain that she’s in league with the Chosen.”

  The Duchess pours a dash of milk and plops several large sugar cubes into a cup of tea before sliding it Finn’s way. “Drink this, Your Majesty. It will help soothe your nerves.”

  The offensive beverage is ignored. “I get that Wonderland has been self-sufficient and unaware of all of the other worlds and Timelines. Hell, you guys weren’t even really aware of even England until the Queen of Diamonds arrived. But you have to pull your heads out of your asses and realize that trillions of innocent people are dying. Whole worlds are disappearing. There is a sick bastard out there who thinks it’s his right to choose which worlds flourish and which ones no longer get to go on, and that’s not right. If our hunches pan out, and he’s hiding with the Queen of Hearts in her secret mountain lair, then we have a chance to put a stop to all of this. We have a chance to bring justice to all of those who are crying out for it. And maybe you all want to just bitch at each other and fight about stupid, pointless things, but here’s your chance to do something important. Help us attack Venae Cavae. Help us take down the Queen of Hearts and the Piper. Help us eradicate what’s left of the Chosen.”

  Several of the Grand Advisors politely clap. One deigns to yawn. The Duchess weeps, she is so very proud.

  Mustache drooping, the Red King holds up a finger. Finn provides him no room for nonsense. “If you dare ask what’s in it for you, so help me, I will lose what little patience I have going for me right now.”

  The Red King slumps back into his chair, ego as bruised as his face. As long as we have his army, I care not about his tantrums.

  “What will happen to Hearts?” The Red Queen picks at her nails with the Carpenter’s oyster knife. “How shall she pay for daring to corrupt White and Diamonds citizens?”

  “Hearts is guilty of more than crimes against our citizens.” The assembled crowd startles at the White King’s harsh reminder. For most of the meeting, his silent, festering attention never strayed from the Red King. He would not listen to me when I tried discussing the prophecy with him. “She dared abduct and torture two Grand Advisors. Whilst the Cheshire-Cat was mutilated, the Caterpillar was executed on trumped-up Hearts’ charges she had no governance over.”

  The Red Queen’s advisor, the Walrus, harrumphs. The table shifts with his girth as he reaches for both biscuits and oysters; everyone quickly steadies cups, plates, and anything else at risk of toppling over. “Speaking of, word arrived from Cor just yesterday that the White Rabbit was found murdered.”

  The Sheep reclaims her knitting, her baaing mournful. “Are none of us safe?”

  “Nonsense.” A song hums as I run a wet finger along the rim of my crystal goblet. “The White Rabbit was not murdered. He committed suicide rather than reveal his secrets to myself and the White King.”

  Several gasps fill the Keep’s hall. The White Queen crawls upon the table to snatch a plate of biscuits, her dress sweeping aside glasses of wine and tea. “Naughty, naughty little bird and monster, keeping secrets from the rest of us.”

  I snatch my goblet away a mere second before she capsizes it. “He was restrained—”

  “Naturally,” the Carpenter murmurs, “as ain’t nobody can trust the Rabbit.”

  I continue, as the White Queen settles back into her chair, “—and he was particularly nasty. So I brought out my dagger, and when I asked a question he did not wish to answer under the influence of a truth serum, he chose to impale himself upon said blade.”

  The Duchess wrings her hands as she turns to Finn. “Oh, Your Majesty. Let me assure you that I am no coward like the Rabbit.” Her overly large saucer eyes nearly encompass her face. “Although, if it meant I was to ensure your silence and trust, I would gladly do what must be done.”

  Several seats away, Mary cackles. “Oh, promise me we can bring her back with us. Please, Finn.”

  All simpering transitions to fury as the Duchess snarls, “Do not dare to refer to His Majesty so informally!”

  Finn
pinches the bridge of his nose. I lean closer, my hand upon his knee. “Breathe.”

  “The question now is,” the Cheshire-Cat says, batting several empty oyster shells at the Red King, “does the Queen of Hearts know of her Grand Advisor’s death?”

  The petty child in me wishes I had removed the Rabbit’s tail and kept it for a key fob, just to spite her as she did me with the Caterpillar.

  “It doesn’t matter.” The Librarian ducks a mere second before a shell whizzes past. When it strikes the Red King squarely in his bruised eye, he cries out. She ignores his whining. “The only concern any of us ought to have right now is when we launch our attack. Sooner is more favorable than later, as any of the Chosen are free to edit themselves out of Wonderland any time they wish. And if they do, we lose our lead and must start at the beginning once more.”

  “How long would it take to organize an attack?” Brom asks.

  “It is now dawn.” The White King accepts a fresh cup of tea from the Walrus. “At your estimates, there are several hundred to possibly one thousand Chosen. Between our four armies, we have more than enough to counter that, meaning we can be selective in who we bring.” His gaze traces each and every monarch at the table. “Most of us have sufficient numbers camped here as it is. As we are centrally located, it would take our foot troops at least twelve hours to march to Cor Castle.” His attention slides toward Finn. “Will you allow the rest of Wonderland upon your lands and in your Court?”

  Although we are barely touching, I can feel the entirety of Finn’s muscles tighten at the query. While the Librarian accepted his role as King of Hearts on his behalf, he has done and said nothing to agree other than sign the peace treaty—and even then, he signed with his legal name rather than either Wonderlandian title.

  He insists he is not king. For my sanity, for my heart, I must place my trust in his faith.

  After several long seconds punctuated by the Red King’s snarling at the Cheshire-Cat, Finn grounds out, “I want that bastard caught, and that bitch to pay for everything she’s ever done.”

  The Duchess claps her hands. “I am certain that, with certain considerations, we can ensure the safety of Cor and its—”

  “As long as the Piper and Hearts are caught,” Finn growls, “I don’t give a shit about Cor or anything else.”

  The Duchess withers in his displeasure. “Yes, well. Yes. Of course. Excellent point, Your Majesty. We must think of the safety of Wonderlanders. We cannot allow these foreigners to come in and hypnotize us, after all.”

  “The Duchess makes a good point, though.” Behind her glasses, the Sheep appears pained to say this. “We must do our best to ensure citizens—Hearts, White, Diamonds, and Red—do not become collateral damage during this battle.”

  “The quicker we get in and take these bastards out,” Jack says, “the better it is for everyone.”

  Marianne rubs her eyes. “I cannot ensure every soldier on the battlefield has earplugs, though. It simply is impossible. And we cannot possibly consider sending anyone out to confront the Chosen without such protections.”

  Grymsdyke rouses in his web. “My kind will help.”

  An absurd fondness for the assassin warms the stone within my chest. “That is much appreciated.” I quickly describe to the others the makeshift earplugs he assisted me with whilst we were in Koppenberg Mountain.

  An exaggerated shudder rolls across Jack’s shoulders. “You want me to stick spider webs in my ears? Are you insane?”

  “We shall make a deal, you and I.” Grymsdyke drops onto the table, in front of the thief. “When you succumb to the childlings’ dissonant music, I will personally see to it you are put out of your misery.”

  “You are the stuff nightmares are made out of, you are,” Jack says mournfully.

  “Are the Tweedles present?” the Cheshire-Cat asks the Sheep.

  She peers up from her knitting and snorts. “Naturally.”

  “Excellent.” His ears twitch. “We can use as many assassins as possible in this war.” His harvest moon eyes flick toward me. “Will a scheduled battle time for tomorrow morning do for you, Your Majesty?”

  Rogue rays of gray-tinged sunshine, which fought their way through storm clouds and lingering night skies, slip through the Keep’s slats, warming the room. “It will do quite nicely.”

  “Oi! Alice! Finn! Get yer lazy arses up! The Librarian needs you.”

  Finn yanks the blanket over our heads. I curl into his warmth.

  Fist meets door once more, rattling it nearly off its hinges. “I know you two are in there! Are you shagging? I’m going to come in! I’ve got my phone with me!”

  “I’m going to kill him,” Finn mutters.

  I tuck my forehead against his chest. Exhaustion beckons so strongly that I am equally nauseated and limp. “I’ll get your gun.”

  Jack makes good on his threat, for the door creaks open. “What are you two—oi! Are you shagging?”

  Finn throws back the blanket. He rubs his eyes, the top of his head. I itch to do the same, so I might, too, revel in the downy softness. “Sleeping, asshole. As you should be. What’s so important that you let us get . . . hell, it feels like all of five minutes of sleep.”

  I would argue less than that, what with the Duchess trailing us to the room after the meeting and shouting from beyond the door about the improperness of the King of Hearts and the Queen of Diamonds daring to tempt the prophecy.

  “Think of Wonderland!” Her fists pounded an unwelcome naptime lullaby. “Think of what you are doing to its people! You Majesty, do not tempt another king into ruining our fair land!”

  The moment the door closed, Finn tossed the crown across the room. I was in his arms, in his bed. His promises warmed my ear, and I may be the most foolish, idiotic woman to ever live, but I held on to them.

  I hold on to them still, these precious, fragile pieces of today and tomorrow.

  I walked away from Wonderland before. I will walk away from it again. I left Jace, who remains part of my heart to this day. Duty has always come first for me. It is engrained in my soul, the very fiber of my being.

  I put it above all else.

  Jack closes the door, smart enough to stay clear of both of our aims. “The Librarian said to come and get you both. So ‘ere I am.”

  I reluctantly, blearily sit up whilst discreetly searching for a rubbish receptacle in case my stomach truly revolts. “She’s a menace.”

  As I watch Finn tug on his jeans and shirt, I allow myself to cultivate a raw, ugly doubt.

  I do not believe I can walk away from this man.

  Finn and I are led outside of the Keep, into the torrential downpour and howling winds. During our short rest, Wonderland unleashed hell upon the land. Could it guess my secret? Our plans for the next day?

  Too warm for snow yet too cold for comfort, a diagonal mixture of sleet and rain batters the hundreds of tents and pavilions stretching as far as the eye can see. It takes less than a minute for mud to coat both boots and clothes. We hurry into a small multi-room tent not too far from the Keep. Inside is warm, though, thanks to a small fire bowl. Van Brunt and the Librarian are hunched over one of Marianne’s laptops, their shoulders nearly touching.

  Finn’s father barely spares Jack a glance. “Thank you, Mr. Dawkins. Now, go get some rest.”

  The thief salutes his boss, spraying rain and mud in a wide arc. “Aye-aye, Captain o’mine.” A blast of chilled air sweeps into the tent as he slips back into the storm.

  “Ten bucks says he’s on his way back to the Hatter’s tent,” Finn says.

  I refuse to take the bet, as I would be out of money very quickly.

  The Librarian’s yawn only reminds me of the warm bed so recently left behind. So does her frown. “You are not wearing your crown, Finn.”

  He unconsciously tugs the knit hat lower on his brow. It must be drenched. “It’s practically a hurricane outside, and you’re worried I’m not wearing a stupid piece of gold on my head?”

 
; She twists her hair back into a bun, securing it with a pencil. “Whether or not you approve, the crown symbolizes part of the agreement with the Courts.”

  “This is asinine. You know that, right?” Finn slaps the laptop shut. “None of you can seriously believe that I am the fucking King of Hearts.”

  My breath stills in my chest as I await opinions that normally should not matter.

  “Wonderland,” the Caterpillar said, “never makes mistakes.”

  I disappointed him when I could not contain my sneer, but the Queen of Hearts and her miserable fury was beyond irritating for such a sunny day. “Nothing is infallible. How else could it choose such a wretched woman for queen?”

  He did not bother with any shapes. He simply blew a faceful of smoke directly at me, erasing my visible disdain.

  “Dad.” Finn blocks his father from reopening the laptop. “How many years now have you been telling me that my destiny is taking over your position in the Society?”

  “That,” Brom rumbles quietly, “has and never will change.”

  Satisfied, Finn releases his technological hostage. “Want to explain why we were dragged out of bed, other than to bitch at me about not wearing the fucking crown?”

  The tent flaps rustle. The Librarian says, “We have a guest.”

  Although I am standing perfectly still when the visitor enters, I fear I will stumble over my own feet. For the eyeless woman dressed in sopping, mud-spattered rags and carrying a walking stick and a bag is none other than the Sage.

  “The Sage does not come like a dog. She does not leave her cave. Those who desire her wisdom go to her.”

  I was wrong, for here she is.

  “Are you just going to stand there, Your Majesty?” Wonderland’s oracle shakes herself out, exactly as a wet animal would. “Or will you help an old woman to a chair? My feet are weary from the journey you requested.”

  My feet uproot and I do, in fact, stumble over and offer her my arm. “My apologies. I—”

  She slaps a rock into my other hand. The tinge of iron and blood fills my mouth when I bite my tongue.