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“You know,” I chase after him, “now you’re human again, I’m surprised you can remain upright with such a chip on your shoulder.” He ignores me, muttering to himself while counting his footsteps. Up and up we go, then a sharp left and back down, following an invisible path. Then it occurs to me. Tweed is Arabelle’s right hand man. He knows exactly how to escape. “Hey, wait up. I’ll cut you a deal.”
“You have nothing I want,” Tweed snaps, losing count on his fingers and groaning.
“We both know that’s a lie,” I snort. He pulls up short, throwing an arm out before I waltz off another ledge. Have these people never heard of railings before? Instead of refusing his chivalry, I marvel at the arm across my abdomen. It’s warm. Despite myself, not that I’m a fan of making smart choices in my day-to-day life, I wrap my hand over his.
“Do you miss it?” I ask, my voice small. Tweed spares me a half-tilt to his head, his eyes watching me from the corners. Tugging his hand out of mine and walking away, something inside me sinks. What the fuck am I doing? Tweed will be hunting for the way out, back to his precious queen, and since the moment he showed up, he’s done nothing but prove exactly why I shouldn’t hate him. I’m not leaving here without the Queen of Spades. She’s the answer.
Turning in the opposite direction, I un-focus my eyes and rely on the only person I can depend on. Me. Each checked square I step on, my heart jumps further up my throat. The platform I’m on is high up and narrow, the bottom of the room not visible. Spotting myself over an arched pathway, I hurry back to the mirrored wall and press my back to it. Goosebumps prickle my skin, my breathing hot and heavy.
Mortality doesn’t scare me. But falling to an early death and having an open casket all smushed up and mangled does. What kind of horny ghost sex can I have with the living hotties if I can’t stand the sight of myself? Nope, that’s not how I’ll appear for an eternity.
Remaining against the mirror, I feel my way with my foot before each step. It’s takes forever, but at some point, I manage to get a scope for the room. The door we entered through is at the highest point and reachable by only one flight of stairs. From certain vantage points, the staircases across the unending room intercept each other and create a pattern. A diamond at first, then a heart. Moving down several steps, a cubic spade comes into view, complete with a black door hidden through the center. My breath hitches and a smile crosses my lips. Gotcha.
Maneuvering the platforms, mostly on my hands and knees, I keep that door in my eyeline. Even when I’m forced to climb downwards, just to cross a pathway and run back up again, I never lose sight of my goal. My calves are burning and throat is painfully dry, but eventually I’m standing at the edge of an opposite platform. The door is directly opposite, not more than twenty feet away, but there’s no way to access it. Just a black door, silver handle and tiled doorstop. Peering over the edge, I spot a pile of forgotten bones seeping into the darkness. I swallow, stepping backwards and bumping into a chest plate.
“What are you still doing here?!” I jump, shifting away from Tweed before he can shove me over the edge. “I thought you would have left already.”
“I have to keep you safe,” he replies, also judging the distance to the door. I scoff, not falling for his shit this time.
“So, you can prevent me from releasing Lillianna and return me to my execution with Arabelle. Yeah, I bet the Red Queen’s Champion has strict instructions not to return empty handed.” I puff out my cheeks, totally done with being treated as a bargaining chip. I may not be worth much, but I know I’m more than an object to be claimed. Tweed rolls his eyes in that condescending way which belittles me long before he’s opened his mouth.
“You don’t understand what’s right in front of you. Lillianna can’t help anymore than Cash can protect you. All he’s done is passed on his skewered views and in doing so, will get you killed long before any prophecy can come to fruition.”
“Why? Because he’s fucking her?” I purse my lips, having suspected as much. Mr. Budgerigar shifts in my pocket, alerting me that he is, in fact, alive.
“Worse,” Tweed stands before me and grips my chin in his hold. “He’s feeding on her, regularly. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been doing so even more since you arrived.”
“Wait, how – isn’t she banished? Locked up somewhere real tight?” Tweed’s face is stoic but a storm is brewing behind his emerald eyes.
“Banished from everywhere, except Dirty Dee’s. It’s her only reprieve from the madness that plagues her isolated mind and the reason Cash built Evasion for her.” All feeling seeps from my body. My stomach rolls, flooding my system with nausea. I do my best to hide the dreaded realization filtering through me, but Tweed’s narrowed gaze doesn’t miss a beat. “What is it?” he asks and I finally twist out of his grip. Wrapping my arms around myself, the door across the gap seems further than ever.
“Malice,” Tweed tries again but it’s my turn to ignore him. Visions of Cash’s glowing eyes in the dark blare to life in my mind. He took me for hours in Evasion. His hands claimed my body, his tongue lapped up my blood. Raising a hand, I cup my own throat. He told me to give myself to him, and I did. More than I care to admit. And the entire time, it was in the sacred room he created for his Queen. Was he thinking of her? Pretending I was her? Fuck, I feel sick, and it’s all my own stupid fault.
Tweed’s hand wraps in my braid, forcing me to turn to face him but I’m done. No more dominating, no more games. Spying a staircase slanting overhead, I yank myself free from Tweed’s hold and run towards the nearest steps. Fuck falling, fuck fear. Whether I make it or not, I’ve been used as a puppet since before I arrived in Wonderlust. These are my decisions. My actions. Tweed chases after me, ordering that I talk to him. That’s cute. I’m sure that would work on his piglet servant, but I’ve stopped listening. Blood pounding in my ears, my heart thumping, I twist and race up the adjacent stairs. Peering over the edge and spying the tiny platform in front of the door, I don’t think. I just jump.
Arms flailing, my legs braced for a painful landing. Grabbing my jacket before it flies off, I hold Mr. Budgerigar close and slam into the tiny perch of tile. Agonizing pain shoots through my ankles, a scream ripping from my throat. Hugging my legs to myself, I barely notice the shadow diving down over me until Tweed’s hand smacks against the ledge at my feet. He’s misjudged the jump, and despite myself, I grab his wrist in an attempt to help him up.
With no space on the platform and a deadly fall beneath him, I open the door and heave him upwards, over the ledge and through the threshold as I scoot back. Tweed pulls himself up more than I am of assistance, and soon enough he’s collapsing on top of me, both of us gasping for breath and lucky to be alive.
“How about we use our words before acting irrationally next time,” Tweed mumbles and I groan in frustration, shoving him aside.
“You’re one to talk,” I scowl down at him. Sitting upright, I pull the small, frail bird from my pocket and check him over. He’s shaking, his beady eyes open and more alert than ever – but not for a good reason. I’ve almost scared the unfortunate thing into an early grave. Tweed also pulls himself into a seat position, shifting down to my feet and starts to massage my calf.
“You found Nigel,” he comments, jutting his head towards the bird. “He’s been missing for over a year now. Disappeared from his royal cage one day, none of the guards could find him. Arabelle was beside herself.” Easing his hands down to my boots, Tweed unties the laces and slowly peels off one, then the other. He busies himself testing the extent of my injuries while I observe the budgie in a new light.
“You’re the Queen’s pet?” Mr. Budgerigar manages a weak shake of his head, but it’s Tweed that answers.
“Not exactly. He was the Royal Adviser’s companion.” I hiss as Tweed squeezes my ankle, turning it over in his hands. “You’re lucky. There’s no breaks and the swelling should hold off long enough for us to leave and I can heal you with my blood. This one however,” Tweed places down my left foot and eases up my right.
“Hold here,” Tweed instructs. I place Mr. Budgerigar on the ground with his walking stick and bend my knee back to hold my calf, as Tweed instructed. Reaching over, Tweed takes my braid and pushes it between my teeth. That’s not a good sign. Then, his fingers lightly peel my sock down, the warmth of his touch still alien to me. Bracing a hand on my shin, he quickly yanks, pushes and jerks my ankle with an audible ‘pop.’ I scream into my hair. Just before my vision begins to swim, my ankle is eased to the ground and a silhouette appears over me.
“What took you so long, beautiful?” a carefree tune drifts to my ears and I distinctly know Cash has found me, as promised. Spitting my braid free, I inhale sharply.
“I ran into…an issue,” I push through gritted teeth, forcing my head up to find no sign of Tweed anywhere. Fucking typical.
35
My eyes flutter open, a state of exhaustion holding me firmly in its grip. Speaking of grip, I’m currently in the strong arms of a handsome male, a slight jostle to his footsteps.
