Page 7 of Fated to the Wicked King

“That’s more like it!” the Duchess beamed, the gleam in her eyes brightening her entire aura so much that the mirror sparkled. “I’m so happy you think so.”

“What about shoes?” Chez looked around as if expecting to see a selection of footwear magically appear around us.

“Oh, no, no.” The Duchess shook her head so vigorously that her curls bobbed about her face. “I’m not lending a hapless girl another pair of my shoes again. You’ll just stretch them out with your huge feet or possibly lose them someplace. Especially not after the last time—such pretty glass slippers.” Tilting her head, she eyed my Victorian lace-up boots. “Those should do fine under your dress. At least they’re no longer encrusted in mud.”

“Fine. Have it your way.” I put one hand up. “For the record, I would much prefer staying home to do my work. I have no interest in bumping elbows with the king’s court.”

The Duchess clapped in glee, ignoring everything I was saying. “You look perfect, my darling!” She let out a sigh. “Shame I can’t come to the ball with you. Only my magic can travel through this looking glass.”

Sighing, I turned to Chez. “What do you think?”

He sniffed, feigning nonchalance. “Good enough, I suppose.”

“Oh, your hair⁠—”

Startled, I jerked back as another burst of sparkly magic swept over me. My long hair, suddenly soft and light, fixed itself into a glamorous up-do with a few fallen tendrils framing my face. It was the way most courtiers wore their hair.

“There you go.” The Duchess nodded in self-satisfaction.

Peering at my reflection, I adjusted my usual jeweled hair clip, tucking it into the loose bun so the brilliant green emerald stood out against my silver-white hair.

Chez tilted his head in assessment. “It’s getting lighter again. Your hair.”

I tugged awkwardly on a pale, wavy tendril by my face—hair, which most definitely used to be a dark chestnut brown. “Honestly, I have no idea what the heck is going on with it.”

“Suits you, though.”

Hiding my grin, I reached out to rub the top of the cat’s fluffy head. He rarely offered compliments. “Thanks, Chez. If I cared much about my appearance, I would say that is a relief, at least.”

I met the Duchess’s gaze in the mirror. “Thank you.” I surveyed my elegant appearance more fully in the reflection, plucking off one more ribbon from my skirt. “I know it’s been nearly a year, but… I still can’t believe I am in a land of magic like this,” I mused. “Bickering with a snarky Cheshire Cat, debating dress styles with a mystical Duchess who can wave her hand and whisk me into a much too elaborate gown to go to a fancy ball at some cursed kingdom.”

The purple cat’s grin was more mischievous than ever. “You never know, Allie. This could all still be a dream.”

“Don’t you dare!” I tossed a sparkly fabric bow at him. “Chez, if this all turns out to be a dream and I wake up on some lovely countryside riverbank in my own world, I will be so pissed.”

Three

A DREAMLIKE WORLD

The flamboyant stagecoach the Duchess had sent for me made the trip from my tower to the castle in record time. Upon landing, its wheels rattled on the usual pebbled path around the castle grounds.

I almost couldn’t bear to look around.

I’d only been here once before.

What used to be a lively green garden, sprawling with color and whimsy, had been reduced to gloomy rows and columns of uniformly cut hedges that, if I squinted ever so slightly, looked almost like a giant chessboard. Freshly mown grass and fragrant, dewy earth overwhelmed the air, which used to burst with the scent of roses.

The castle towers still spiraled toward the sky, but the entire structure nearly blended in with the darkness of the evening. Only the hint of fog and shadows covered its stone stronghold, barely discernible, but unmistakably there. Everything was a stark contrast to what the castle used to be—reversed, backward.

If not for the flickering torchlights at the cavernous entrance where all the courtiers were promenading inside, the event would have looked bleak indeed.

Or perhaps that was one of the goals of this evening, to further intimidate the citizens of Wünder.

Taking a deep breath, I picked up my skirts, invitation clutched in hand, and followed a group of courtiers through the entryway.

A snap of warmth, of concentrated power, shuddered through me as I crossed the threshold into the castle. An enchanted security barrier, I guessed.

The invitation parchment trembled between my fingers before dissolving into a whisper of warm dust and silver sparks, vanishing into the air.