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“Perfect,” I grumble. Shithead could have told me to double sock back at the club, but no. Here I am – tired, cranky and sporting a blister on each ankle. Suddenly, I stop and narrow my eyes at him. I’m literallywalkingnext to a vampire with enhanced speed. Holding my jacket pocket to not jostle Mr. Budgerigar into an early death, I leap onto Cash’s back.
“Giddy up!” I kick his ass and smack the back of his head. That was for making me suffer unnecessarily for so long. Cash doesn’t react aside from jolting forward, running faster than my eyes can track. Wind billows through my braid, puffing out my cheeks like a free appointment with the hygienist. Goodbye plaque, hello ominous mountains growing closer by the second. Cash skids to a stop before we cross the line of shadow separating us from the looming mountain range, grabbing my legs to stop me from vaulting over his head.
Placing me down, I peer up at the sheer cliff face hanging above. Melancholy grey stone, devoid of all color and fixed into a dripping effect stares back, casting a giant shadow over the land before us. Three guesses to where we are. Leading the way, Cash’s shoulders grow tenser with each step. I follow, hugging the jacket around my front as a wind tries to blow it off. Silence falls over us, not even my sarcasm rearing its head to fill the stale atmosphere.
Arriving at the cliff face, Cash touches my shoulder, guiding me towards two, plain white doors amongst the rock. Setting me before the door on the left, then steps in front of the one on the right. Bracing his hand on the handle, he nods for me to do the same.
“I need you to do me a favor,” he says too softly. I step away from the door and cross my arms. “Whatever you see or hear, remember the truth. You know me Malice. The Nightshade Trial will try to distort your beliefs, make you question what you know is right. I know you’re strong enough to pass the test, and once we free the Queen, she’ll-”
“Wait,” I hold up a hand. “Rewind. Nightshade Trial? Free the Queen? I thought we were here to visit her. Have a cup of tea, talk strategy to find Hatter. I didn’t agree-”
“She’s banished, Crazy One,” Cash’s brows pull together and a rare look of desperate crosses his face. “Trapped in a prison that Arabelle created out of fear.” Releasing the door handle, he closes the gap between us. Stroking my shoulders, his forehead lowers to mine. “I can’t do this alone. I need your help, please. Then I promise, I’ll give you everything you desire.” Without moving his head, his fingers tilt my chin upwards to meet his breathy whisper. “Malice, I need you.”
Placing a featherlight kiss to my cheek, I taste his bittersweet desperation. A slice of despair cuts through me, despite the pretense of confidence I manage to retain on the outside. Cash has an attachment to his queen, the same way Tweed does to his. He’s asking me to save her, to return her to his life. And where will that leave me?
The budgie in my pocket wiggles and I remember. Alone with Hatter, that’s where. With my chosen father, living a life of tea parties and nonsense. Everyday will be filled with laughter and copious amounts of sugar intake.
“Okay Cash. Let’s free your Queen.” Breaking away from the safety of his body, cutting the tie as swiftly as I can, I brace myself before the door on the left. Cash smiles, that heart-stopping smile only the devil should possess. Never have I been so weak for a set of dimples.
“Ignore what you see and hear. One of us must find the Queen of Spades playing card. It’s the key. The other must locate her cell, in that order. I’ll find you as soon as I’m able. Everything is going to be okay,” he places his hand on the handle before him. Doing the same, I brace myself and stare at the non-descript door.
“So you keep saying.” On the count of three, we push open our separate doors and step inside, just as a rush of wind slams into my back and a hand wraps around my eyes.
33
Eighteen years after Alice’s disappearance
Standing before me at the castle entrance, Arabelle lifts the head of her decapitated mother high in the air. The crowd of mostly females, who have flooded to witness this frabjous day, roar with cheers. Feather dusters and brooms are pumped high, Arabelle’s name becoming a chant.
At my side, Cash stands tall, fulfilling the prophecy Arabelle and I saw in the magician’s library. Catching his eye, noting his smirk with one of my own. The Red Queen is no more. Our suffering is over, and the new monarch before us has been raised by yours truly. Our future is as good as it was ever going to get.
The crowd create a spiraling conga line and begin leading a procession through the rose gardens. An ox bodyguard steps foreward, offering an ice bucket for Arabelle to dump the remainder of her mother in. This, along with every other mounted head in the trophy room, is to be burned and spread at the Great Scattering.
Families who have been mourning for too long will finally be at peace. Another reason for the realm to celebrate, their faith in Arabelle’s leadership cemented. She’s only just turned fifteen yet has a realm of loyal supporters behind her. A feat her mother tried to manage through fear alone.
“Tweed,” Arabelle turns her tamed mane of red curls to the side, keeping her body straight on. A heart has been painted over her lips, her face carrying enough make-up to age her by five years. “Did you notice-”
“I did,” I nod, stepping into earshot. “Four males in attendance. The decline is too rapid.”
“We need to do something. I have an idea. Wait for me in the study.” Arabelle’s eyes rise to my face at the same time Cash prods a finger into my back.
“Er, actually, I promised Cash I would assist him with an errand during the celebrations this evening, if you permit me freedom from Red Castle? Tomorrow morning after our run, we can decide on a strategy going forward.” The heart on her red lips shifts as she smiles, ruining the façade.
“I’m not my mother, Tweed. Go, enjoy your evening. You’ve both deserved it.” She makes a point to look over her shoulder at Cash too. Returning to the parade, Arabelle claps her blood-stained hands in time with the chanting, floating down the steps with her back ramrod straight. She’ll make the best queen this realm has ever seen. And yes, I’m taking full credit.
Leaving Arabelle to her ox detail, I follow Cash inside the castle and up to his suite, not a word being uttered. His broad shoulders flex in a navy cashmere sweater, concealing the fresh tattoos underneath. I bear the same, roses down my right arm to keep our matching façade. Whatever Cash has done to his appearance for the sake of his stripping career, I mimic. Once an identical twin, always an identical twin. Entering Cash’s suite, the Mocking Turtle, in a bandana with inked designs covering his shell, has just finished packing away his kit and bids us goodbye.
“Spill,” I fold my arms once we’re alone. “I’m not going on any errands unless you tell me what it is.” Cash strides into his adjoining bathroom, leaving the door open so I can see him changing in the mirror’s reflection. His skin is pale, paper white and I have to wonder if he’s sick. My suspicions increase as I inspect the platter of food on his bedside table, wondering when he last ate a proper meal.
“What the hell is going on with you, Cash?” I mutter to myself, barely audible. Turning, I slam into Cash’s chest, his eyes intently on mine.
“It’s an honor the almighty Knave would take notice,” he replies, then strides back to the bathroom half-dressed. I jerk my head back as if I’ve been punched. What the fuck?!
“What’s that supposed to mean? I’ve noticed the change since you started stripping, but I gave you space to work yourself out. We went through hell and stormed out the other side. I know better than anyone that shit takes a toll. Somehow, you’ve managed to maintain the persona of the humorous boy you always were, until now.”
I reserve the fact I depended on Cash’s personality more times than I could count. Where I would only see dark, he would be the light at the end of the tunnel. The reason to drag myself back to the surface of my despair and power through another day. Strolling out of the bathroom, now fully dressed in black fatigues, he waves a flippant hand through the air.
“You went through hell and survived; I merely tagged along for the ride.” I scoff, crossing my arms and leaning against a high-backed chair.
