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Ransom’s dark eyes lit up with so many flecks of gold that they appeared to glow. The diabolical grin on his face made me wish I’d kept my mouth shut.
“That’s anoutstandingsuggestion, my pet. I’ll make sure we play that tomorrow night,” he replied. His gaze never left mine as he unlocked my wrists and handed my leash to one of the Tweedles. "Underestimate these games at your own peril, little bunny. You’ll soon learn that even the most banal tasks can test your limits in ways you never imagined."
I continued to eye him skeptically as he climbed into the center of the ring, faced the crowd, and explained the rules.
“Every bunny is allowed one pillow, no more, no less. If a bunny is disarmed or drops their pillow, they’re disqualified. If the round ends and a bunny keeps fighting, they’re disqualified. If a bunny falls out of the ring or leaves the ring foranyreason, they’re disqualified.”
“What if they’re thrown out of the ring?” a guest called out from the crowd.
“Disqualified!”
Ransom’s answer was met with more chatter and bets from his guests.
“The pillow fight will have three rounds. Guests of The Rabbit Hole will vote on the bunnies left standing at the end of the final round. First place in tonight’s pillow fight gets an advantage in the next event of the Bunny Bondage Games.”
He waved over a huge referee wearing a gold whistle, a black helmet, and black body armor. It wasn’t the lightweight equestrian vest and helmet like my older sister Marcella used when she rode her horses. It was the kind of protection that one of my college boyfriends wore when he was racing his Ducati.
Something wasn’t adding up.
If this was just a pillow fight, why was the ref prepared for a motorcycle accident?
He blew the whistle to get everyone’s attention.
“Round one begins in five minutes!”
A giant digital clock appeared on the wall behind the ring, plastering a countdown until the start of the first round.
I started to formulate a strategy in my head, which mostly consisted of not dropping my pillow and not getting thrown out of the ring. But as I glanced around at the other bunnies, they didn’t look like a bunch of teenagers at a co-ed slumber party. Their eyes were filled with determination and hunger for victory.
Trippy and Caramel were busy whispering with the other bunnies, their icy glares making it clear that they saw me as a threat. I knew I was an outsider, but this was ridiculous. We were all adults here, but those bitches were acting like middle school mean girls.
Pillows of all shapes and sizes began appearing in the other bunnies’ hands, making me nervous. The bigger pillows were going to send me flying. The smaller ones would probably hurt more.
I thought of the pillows on my bed back home in Malibu...they were stuffed with Canadian goose down, covered in hot pink faux fur on one side, and pink and purple sequins on the other. I stared at my empty hands, willing a pillow into them with all my imagination.
Nothing happened.
"Listen up, my pet," Ransom said, suddenly at my side. He unfastened my leash and knelt down in front of me, lowering his voice so that only I could hear him. “I’ve just given you the perfect opportunity to accelerate your training. You have the potential to excel in this competition, but you’ll have to be more resourceful, more resilient, and more strategic than any of these bunnies. You’ll need to push yourself beyond your comfort zone to reach that potential. It won’t be easy for you.”
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, my king,” I muttered, feeling nervous at how many bunnies were climbing into the ring. There were definitely more than thirty. I looked up at Ransom, putting my hands on my naked hips.
“Hey, how come I can’t imagine anything into being real? When I was with Chess and Hatter I could imagine a dress and then I was wearing it. Why isn’t that working here?”
“You don’t have that power while you’re in my custody,” Ransom said, glancing at my collar before quickly settling his eyes back onto mine. “What kind of pillow would you like to fight with?”
The moment I described the one back home on my bed, it was in his hands. Surrounded by black and gold elegance, he looked ridiculous holding such a foo-foo hot pink pillow. He offered it to me, then hesitated, giving me a cautious look.
“Do you want it just like this, as it is? Or do you want it enhanced for the fight?”
“What do you mean,enhanced?” I asked, looking around at the other bunnies. Their pillows were different shapes and sizes and colors, but they were still just pillows. “You mean with ruffles or something?”
Ransom slowly shook his head.
“No, I don’t mean with ruffles,” he deadpanned. “I mean withsomething.”
“Something like what?” I hissed in frustration as I glanced at the countdown clock on the wall. The first round was about to start. “You mean like have it filled with rocks instead of feathers?”
“Filling it with rocks would make it too heavy for you to lift,” he said, rising to his feet. The timer had less than ten seconds left. “You’d better hop along, bunny. If you’re not in the ring when the whistle blows, you’ll be disqualified.”
