Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Alice
Darius seemed sincere. The look he gave me—open, steady, certain—made every wall I’d built feel paper-thin.
Belonging.
The word echoed through me like a bell. Someone who knew my mistakes and forgave me. Someone who knew my power and wasn’t afraid of it. Wasn’t afraid of me.
Tears burned behind my eyes, and I struggled to hold myself together. I would not fall apart.
Not here.
Not now.
Not in front of men who were still deciding whether I was worth protecting or just another liability.
I glanced around the cavern, blinking hard. Chester and Caterpillar were watching us. Chester’s grin had softened at the edges, something almost tender in those luminous eyes. Caterpillar exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his ancient gaze steady on mine. Not judging. Just... waiting.
Like they already knew what my answer would be. Like they were ready to welcome me home.
Home.
The word caught in my throat.
The witches at the Moon Coven had tattoos of the crescent moon inked on their wrists. A mark of sisterhood. Of belonging. But I didn’t have one. You had to be fully accepted into the coven—voted in by the others. And I never had enough votes. Never enough trust. Never enough anything.
I’d watched other witches get their marks. Girls who’d arrived years after me, who didn’t have half my power, who hadn’t spent their whole lives trying to prove themselves worthy. They’d stood in the circle and received the moon on their skin while I watched from the doorway.
Always the doorway. Never inside.
Even being a Ravencrest hadn’t made a difference. If anything, it made them trust me less. Like my bloodline was a threat instead of a gift.
And now here I was—being offered by a golden demon what my own kind had denied me my entire life.
I cleared my throat. “What would my name be?”
I was waiting for something about mistakes like Unpredictable. Inconsistent. Disaster.
Darius grinned. “Fate. Because you didn’t stop time to run,” he said quietly. “You stopped it because I was dying.”
Heat flooded my chest—not embarrassment, something deeper. Something dangerously close to hope. Something impossible. No one had ever looked at my chaos and seen purpose in it.
I glanced at the others, trying to steady myself. Their names described who they were. Grump described his mannerisms. Doc his ability to heal. Hatter, his madness.
But it wasn’t madness to me.
My lips turned up into a smile I couldn't stop.
“Then you'll become one of us?" Darius asked. The question came out softer than I expected—like it mattered to him. Really mattered. I nodded slowly.
He tilted his head. “Good. Fetch my hat, please.”
Blood drained from my face. I thought of the pain I’d endured last time, how the hat ripped open my brain, forcing the truth out of me. I eyed the hat that was near his bunk. “Your hat?”
His hand found my knee and stayed there. “The hat does more than come up with the truth.” He held my gaze. “It’s the one that puts the tattoo on us.”
My hope died. I'd finally been chosen, and now I was about to ruin it. “Darius, I don’t know if I can go through that again.” I braced myself for his expression to close off, for the acceptance to be yanked away like everything else.
He lifted my chin, his fingers gentle. No judgment on his face. No impatience. Just certainty. “I promise the hat won’t hurt you this time. I control it. Trust me.”
That was such an easy thing to say. He could be lying to me. But what if he wasn’t? Then I’d be throwing away the first time someone wanted me to be a part of something.
I swallowed hard. The hat sat near Darius, just out of his reach. He couldn't get it himself. Not with those wounds.
So it had to be me.
I pushed off the cot, my legs unsteady. Two steps. That's all it was. Two steps and a reach. I stopped beside him, staring at the hat like it might bite.
Just pick it up.
My fingers closed around the brim.
It felt like any normal hat. But I knew better. It possessed a power that could drive you insane, drop you to your knees.
My hand trembled as I handed it to Darius. The others had gone quiet, all eyes on me. Watching. Waiting. “Here.”
He took it carefully, his silver eyes never leaving mine. The sharpness in his face fell away, replaced by something softer. Almost reverent. He lifted the hat and placed it gently on my head.
“Accept.”
I braced for pain—but warmth bloomed instead. Tingles rolled over me like sunlight after a long winter, moving slowly down my neck, across my chest, settling over my heart. A gentle heat, like smoldering wax, pressed into my skin.
Then the warmth faded. The tingles stopped.
And I felt it there. The mark. His mark. Over my heart.
Goosebumps rose on my skin, and then everything else went still—my breath, my heart, my thoughts. Twenty-one years I’d waited for this. Twenty-one years of being unwanted, untrusted, unchosen. And now—
“Fate.” Darius’ eyes beamed with pride. “You’re now a member of the Uncrowned Rebellion.” His mouth quirked. “Though most just call us the Hatter’s Impossibles.”
I laughed—or sobbed. I wasn’t sure which. Maybe both.
I belonged. Finally, I belonged.
Darius lifted my chin, his silver eyes searching mine—giving me a chance to pull back. To say no.
I didn’t.
His lips met mine, soft at first. Tentative. Like he was asking a question. And when I leaned into him, he had his answer.
The kiss deepened. I sank against him, my palms pressing flat against his chest, feeling the steady thunder of his heartbeat beneath my hands.
Slowly I slid them upward, tracing the hard planes of muscle, the ridges and valleys of a body built for war.
He shuddered under my touch—this powerful, terrifying Golden Demon—and something molten unfurled low in my belly.
His other hand found my waist, pulling me closer, and I went willingly. Desperately. Like I’d been starving for this and hadn’t known it until now.
When we finally broke apart, both of us breathless, his forehead rested against mine.
“Happy birthday, Fate,” he murmured against my lips.
And for the first time in twenty-one years, I believed I deserved it.
“Well, well, well.” Chester’s grin materialized first, followed lazily by the rest of him. “The Mad King gives a gift and takes one for himself. How deliciously mad.”
Heat flooded my cheeks. I started to pull away from Darius, but his hand on my waist held me steady.
“Don’t mind Grin,” Darius said. “He’s insufferable on his best days.”
“Insufferable?” Chester’s grin stretched impossibly wider. “I prefer observant.”
Caterpillar drifted closer, a curl of smoke trailing from his lips. He regarded me with half-lidded eyes, slow and unhurried, as if time meant nothing to him.
“Who... are... you?” The words came out languid, measured.
I blinked. “I—you know who I am.”
“Do I?” He exhaled another plume of smoke. “You were Alice when you fell through the mirror. A lost witch. A stranger.” His ancient gaze settled on the place over my heart where the mark now lived. “But that is not who you are now... is it?”
The question hung in the smoky air.
I touched the place over my heart where the mark now lived. Fate. That's what Darius had called me. Not a mistake. Not a disaster. Fate.
Maybe it was time I started believing it.
“No,” I whispered. “I’m Fate.”
Caterpillar’s mouth curved—not quite a smile, but close. “Mmm. So you are.”
Darius clasped my hand. “We need to present you to Grump as part of the rebellion.”
Dread settled in my gut. He could undo everything with a single word. “Why?”
He pushed a lock of my hair behind my ear and I shivered. “Because he needs to give you final approval.”
"That's not what I wanted to hear." The tattoo over my heart suddenly felt fragile. Temporary. Like Grump would burn it off himself. He didn't welcome just anyone—I knew that. Which meant I could still be turned away.
Chester and Caterpillar helped maneuver Darius toward Grump, who stood studying a map with the Uncrowned Seven. He glanced up and scowled when he saw us approaching.
It wasn’t far—twenty feet, maybe less. But it felt like I was walking toward the guillotine. And Grump looked ready to call for my head.
Something caught my eye. A pocket watch, lying open. But instead of a clock face, there was a small picture of a woman tucked inside.
I froze.
Everything narrowed to that single image.
I knew her. Blonde hair. Soft eyes. A smile I’d only ever seen in fragments—in dreams that turned to smoke and screaming.
The woman who burned to death.
My mother.
My stomach dropped. My lungs forgot how to work.
Why did Grump have a picture of my mother?
“Alice?” Darius’ voice broke the paralysis gripping me.
I blinked. “What?”
Darius gave me a curious look. “Grump—”
But I couldn’t remain silent. I ran over to the pocket watch and seized it. Brought it close, hoping I'd been wrong. Hoping the light had played tricks.
But no. My mother's face stared back at me. Real. Impossible. Real.
Grump immediately grabbed my arm. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He yanked the pocket watch out of my hands. “Give that to me.”
“Why do you have a picture of my mother?”
Something cracked behind his eyes—there and gone so fast I thought I almost missed it. “What did you say?”
My lower lip trembled. The words wanted to stay locked inside, where they were safe, where they couldn’t hurt me. But they clawed their way out anyway.
“That’s my mother.” I shook with anger. “She died in a fire when I was three. She died protecting me.”
The memory surged up—smoke and screaming and arms holding me tight. The heat. The roar of flames. And a voice. A man’s voice, cold and commanding, as everything I loved turned to ash.
“I heard him.” I was shaking now, my hands curled into fists at my sides. “The king’s assassin. I heard his voice while she died.”
Grump hadn’t moved. Hadn’t breathed. He stood frozen, the pocket watch clutched against his chest like a shield—or a wound.
I stepped closer, tears blurring my vision. “Did you murder her?”
The accusation hung between us, sharp as a blade.
“Did you kill my mother?”
Darius clasped my arm and pulled me toward him. “Alice, what are you saying?”
“She died protecting me.” I lifted my chin, forcing myself to hold Grump’s gaze. “I can still hear her screams and that man’s voice. He said my father was dead.”
Darius rubbed my back and kissed my cheek, holding me steady when I couldn’t hold myself.
“I didn’t kill her.”
Grump’s voice came out barely above a whisper. Shattered. I lifted my head.
“I loved her.” His face had changed; the hardness crumbled away, leaving something raw and wounded beneath. “She was my mate.”
The soft word echoed through me. Mate.
“I didn’t...” He looked down at the watch in his trembling hands. At her face. “I didn’t know she died in a fire. I didn’t know how—” He stopped. Swallowed hard. “They told me she was gone. They never told me how.”
The cavern had gone silent. No one moved. No one breathed.
Grump lifted his gaze to mine. Tears—actual tears—lined his weathered face.
“Alice.” His voice cracked on my name. “You’re my daughter.”