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I scoff. Shoving him back a step, I throw a flattened head to my forehead. “Sir, yes Sir!” I mock, clicking my heels together. Pushing past him, a whirlwind of thoughts race around my mind, filling my ears with the noise this room is sorely lacking.
“Better hit me with a beat,” I snap my fingers in the viscountess’s face. She seems to be the provider of knighthoods – she can damn well provide a decent backing track to witness me baring my dignity for mine. Isn’t that how it works? Do as we’re told, color in the lines and receive a noble title?
Kicking off my sneakers, those golden eyes captative me again. Hopping onto the stage, I have a better vantage point. The gold of her dress sparkles against a heavy necklace I hadn’t been able to see before. Black diamonds claim her slender throat, the obnoxiously large gem shaped as a spade claiming her suit. The male to her right, a beast of a man with a bull’s head and ring piercing in his nostrils reaching across, placing a hoofed hand on her lap. It would seem the King of Spades, who happens to be the non-human member of the royals, has a new wife. One who has taken a keen interest in me.
The lights dim, throwing a spotlight over the pole, but I sense her. I feel her smirk drifting to me on a windless breeze. In my vicinity, Tweed settles in his given armchair, knotting his fingers over his stomach. The thought slips into my mind as the music starts playing, if the Queen wants my brother here to further torture him or to keep me in check. Probably both.
Swallowing hard, I take a steady inhale. Never have I been the center of attention. Even before I proved myself of no use at the royal trials, I was one of a pair. Now I’m thoroughly on my own, needing to earn my keep at the castle. I knew this day would come eventually, that I couldn’t ride my brother’s new tweed coat tails forever. I’d been wholly prepared to pack my minimalistic bag and walk, but it’s true I need to pull my weight. Carry the burden of our imprisonment for a change. So, peeling my stained t-shirt over my head, I place a hand on the pole and slowly pad around it. Testing its sturdiness, feeling the coolness beneath my palm.
I work slowly, allowing the music to delve into my being and direct my actions. All the while, I keep those golden eyes at the forefront of my attention. Fuck the rest who fade into the background. They want to be entertained; I want to be free. Yet as I spin myself in a circle, head dropped back, a gush of excitement ripples through the crowd. It patters into my psyche on nimble tiptoes, arousing my awareness. Slipping a thumb into the dirty sweatpants at my hips, I roll my body and a small applause breaks out.
Woah.
From ignored to praised, a rush of adrenaline floods my system. The louder the music grows, the harder the beat hits, the more natural my movements become. In my peripheral vision, Tweed tenses, the veins in his hands popping from the tightness of his gripped fingers. He’s uncomfortable, bless his cotton socks. I, however, let the grin split across my face as I hang back, dry fucking this pole like it’s the temptress across the way. Her eyes never divert, a hint of a tongue poking out to wet her lips and I harden against the tent of my cotton pants.
Oh, it’s jester the Queen wants, and that’s what she’ll damn well get. Watch me cause a scandal like this realm has never seen. How’s that for entertainment?
21
We emerge in the bleak hours of morning. The storm took hours to pass, and once I’d decided hiding away was the best option, Tweed made sure I stuck to it. He wouldn’t let me peek out of the cavern door once, despite the amount of whining or singing I hit him with. I suppose he’s right,again, even if I hate giving him the satisfaction of knowing it. I’m not in a rush to be shot at with a Jabbercocky’s ice blast today. Not when I haven’t had a single night to enjoy Wonderlust since arriving.
I’m no closer to finding the Hatter, or any closer to finding a clue to find him. To be honest, the whole thing is weighing on my playful mood, and that’s not good for my un-mental health. If I forget who I am, I might as well roll back into the boring world I was spawned from.
Chels stretches across the length of my shoulders, hissing at any Tweedle that gets too close. Her eyes double blink, igniting a pair of teal lights that spear the night like a torch. Thankful for her assistance and warmth, I venture towards the lazy river first. Cool water seeps through my fingers, somehow slipperier than usual. Hardly any of it makes the journey to my face, and the little that does, I have to scrub in for a pathetic attempt at a wash.
A trickle of bubbles float down the center of the stream, slow enough for me to scoop up and scrub beneath my pits and into my cleavage. Inhaling deeply, a minty scent draws me to pick a few leaves from a nearby shrub. Shoving them in my mouth, I start chewing the leaves into a lather and continue my journey down the river bank, already feeling much more Malice than I did a moment ago.
Footfalls tread behind, keeping as close as my new bodyguard will allow. My body thrums with restlessness. Having the twins so close, with the image of Tweed’s naked psyche at the forefront of my mind is akin to torture. The river winds this way and that in a true lazy fashion, diverting sharply to cut a route through the mushroom field ahead. Despite Chels warning growl, a hand wraps around my wrist.
“Do you have an idea of where it is you desire to go?” Cash’s grip loosens to hold my hand, his green eyes glowing softly, set on mine. “I know these woods. If you tell me your plan, I can help.”
The letter and pocket watch I stole from Hare’s waistcoat are burning a hole in my pocket, hidden from sight and mind. I have no doubt Cash could rush me through my quest, dumping me at the end with a dazzling smile and lustful promise. Sounds promising, but something holds me back.
“Ninety percent of the journey is the travelling,” I retreat my hand and cross the boundary into the mushroom field. An invisible force passes through my body, the hairs on my arms rising to stand at attention. Chels face nuzzles mine, a soft stroke of her whiskered cheek smothering my apprehension. Onwards and upwards it is.
“This was the home of the caterpillars,” she purrs. I nod, not needing to ask questions. It only makes sense if the cats are almost extinct, so are the caterpillars. Add to that the lack of male species almost everywhere and Wonderlust is shaping up to be a rather empty place. Does that have something to do with the Hatter beckoning me to join his game of hide and seek, or should I give up all hope now?
“Never,” I snort to myself. I’ve tried drowning in self-pity several times in the institution. Seemed like a fitting way to commit suicide, but alas – I couldn’t even do that right. I’m just too fucking awesome at surviving.
Mushrooms span across my horizon, as far as I can see. All colors, all sizes. The air is thick with earthy scents and the undertone of sweetness. Stalks as thick as trunks stretch high. Those too tiny to be seen are stepped on, squashed screams sound from beneath my sneakers. Tweed says something about looking for firewood before we venture too far and strides off, leaving me in the care of Cash watching my every move with keen interest.
I wander aimlessly, no destination in mind. But there has to be something in this world worth discovering, and I won’t leave until I’ve scoured every part of it.
The shadows of the stalks around us shift, closing inwards while their fleshy canopies lean back. Two half-moons on opposite sides of the sky appear to have once been united but are now split and amidst an argument.
In the heart of the lit area they’ve provided, a single blue mushroom stands just above my eye height. Yellow spots prove to be too symmetrical, their repeated pattern around the flesh too perfect. Skimming my hand over the surface, I round the mushroom, my curiosity alarm blaring. Returning to where Cash hung back to watch, my fingers fall into a slight dip at the edge of the last circle. Invisible to the eye, I trace the crease and then push my weight into the center. The circle pops open, attached by a teeny brass hinge that glints in the moon light.
“What do we have here Chels?” I muse, lifting out a weighty object. Smooth metal slips into my hand, around twelve inches in length with a clear chamber in the base and ribbed pipe attached to the side. It won’t prove any use to my investigation, but it sure will provide a fun reprieve from the stress clawing at my insides.
“Blue Caterpillar, you sly dog,” I chuckle and then abruptly frown. These weren’t just characters in my dreams, these were real creatures who both aided and vexed me no end. And now they’re gone. In all the years I’ve dreamed about my grand return, I never once imagined the Blue Caterpillar wouldn’t be here to ignore and aggravate me. A moment passes where I’m utterly still, then shake off those bad vibes and break into a grin. “Well, waste not, want not.”
“Nope,” Tweed storms through the field like a vamp on a mission, trying to swipe the hookah from my hands. “Not a chance. We need you at least semi-aware to survive the Enchanted woods.”
“And I need you at least semi-erect to hold my attention,” I smirk back, already scrambling up onto the top of the mushroom. Oh yes, I’m doing this in full style.
“Will you listen for once?” Tweed dumps the firewood to the ground to ball his fists. I shake my head, checking the crushed shisha tobacco in the base on the hookah. “These woods are no joke.”
“Life’s a joke, Tweedle-Dick. The goal is not to be the punch line.” Locating a match attached to the side of the mouthpiece, I strike a flame against the mushroom and light the hookah coals. Sprawling out on my back, I inhale the first blissful puff and exhale the accumulating stress from my lungs. “If you guys need me, I’ll be up here – living my best life.”
