Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
It was the next morning that Sasha found herself, sipping a small cup of coffee at the table in front of the chessboard. Instantly, she knew something strange was happening.
Namely, because she was once more aware of herself in the scene. All at once. And she was, at least as far as she could tell…alone. Swiveling around in her chair, she double-checked.
“Your Majesty?”
No sign of Vile. Or the Queen of Hearts.
Or any of her servants or guards for that matter, either.
“Your Majesty!”
“What the…?” She set the coffee and the saucer down on the table. She was in a scene by herself. Had that ever happened before? Why was she in a scene by herself? No. She was missing something. Something was about to—
“Hey! Down here!”
She had missed the very-tiny voice at first. Looking down, she let out a quiet “huh.” It was the White Knight. He was sitting on the back of his horse, his helmet tucked underneath his arm.
Leaning close, Sasha squinted. That’s what she thought. He looked awfully familiar.
She didn’t know if she should be excited or dismayed. Or dismayed by the fact that she wasn’t excited. But she knew the man on the back of the horse. “Virtue, what’re you doing here?” she whispered.
“Oh. Are we not staying in character this time?”
Sasha did everything she could not to scream. “Don’t, Virtue. Just don’t. Shouldn’t you be with Sidney?”
“I’m here because the plot needs me to be. I was going to warn you that she’s about to do something very stupid. But if you don’t already know what’s going on, that means this is all Vile’s doing.” He frowned, tinily, up at her. “Shouldn’t you be writing this story?”
“I didn’t pick this. I don’t want to be here. I just want this story over as fast as possible.” She was staring to care less and less about how that came to pass.
“Really?” He paused. “Interesting. I did think this was all going rather fast.” His horse shifted from side to side. “Why would he be trying to rush things? He loves being the Queen of Hearts.”
“Don’t know.” And she didn’t particularly care at the moment. Because she just processed what he’d said. “What is Sidney about to do that’s stupid?”
“Well, you see, she assumed you were the Knave of Hearts, not the…King…” Virtue sounded confused, still. “Which, why are you the King of Hearts? Did you pick that r—”
“Oh, Kingy? Where are you?” Someone called as they walked into the room behind her, heading her way.
It was Vile.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
She didn’t know what he’d do if he found her talking to Virtue, but she knew it wasn’t going to be anything good.
Probably just step on him, or something.
Panicking, she acted reflexively. Picking up her coffee cup from the saucer, she plucked Virtue and his horse up as gently—and quickly—as she could and put him in the middle of it.
Flicking what remained of her coffee into the nearby rosebush she turned the empty mug over on top of them to hide them. “Out here.”
“Ah! There you are!” Vile as the Queen of Hearts strolled out, looking resplendent in his red-and-black getup.
He was wearing a long, carefully tailored black tailcoat stitched with jagged, pointed red roses with a focus on their twisting and dangerous-looking thorns.
His waistcoat was cinched in tight and clearly constructed like a corset, and all in shades of dark crimson and patterned with abstract hearts.
All in all, he looked like a nightmare cross-breed between a high fashion art-piece and one of Louis the XIV’s courtiers.
He leaned his back against the doorjamb, smiling at her. “Catching some morning sun before the trial?”
“Trial?”
“Of the Knave, of course, silly. He stole my tarts. He’s about to be executed.”
Everything clicked into place. Oh. Shit. “I. Yeah. Right.” She fought the urge to think about it. He was still reading the page, after all.
“Mmhm, sure, blame me. I am simply trying to be considerate for once, you realize.”
“How so?”
“The coffee, for starters. If we were being accurate, you’d be drinking tea.”
That would make more sense. “Thanks?”
Smiling, he was clearly proud of himself. “You’re welcome.” Though, it didn’t last. He grunted, winced, and pressed the jamb into the middle of his shoulder blade. “I am about to say something and you can judge me for it all you like.”
“Oh?” She watched him, curious.
“This corset does wonders for my back but it makes my right shoulder ache something fierce and I cannot for the life of me figure out why.” He pressed his shoulder harder into the jamb.
Laughing despite herself, she smiled back at him faintly. “Probably because it’s making you just roll your shoulders differently than you’re used to.”
“Mm. You’re probably right.” He rubbed his back against the jamb like a bear would against a tree. “Still, it hurts.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
Was she? She thought about it for a moment. “Yeah. Actually, I am. I don’t want you to suffer needlessly.”
“Just needfully.” He smirked at her, a playful twist to the edge of his lips.
“Well, of course. If the plot demands it. That’s what villains are for, right? Or so you keep saying.”
“Now you’re getting it.” He paused. “I prefer you in a good mood. It’s more fun to banter with you when you aren’t moody or panicked.”
“Ah.” She rolled her eyes. “I see. So you’re being considerate for your own ends.”
“Of course! Why else would I be? For you?” He snorted in laughter.
That did bring up something that she’d been curious about.
It was a can of worms. But better to ask and know now, than get herself into trouble later.
She wasn’t exactly in any real risk of it at the moment, but she could see herself being stupid if she wasn’t careful.
It’d already almost happened in the last so-called book if he wasn’t lying to her.
“Can I ask you a question? You, as in Vile. Not the Queen of Hearts.”
“Well, with that kind of mental preamble, I’m dying to know what the question is, Kingy.” The sarcasm on the fake title oozed off the word.
“Do you ever get attached to people? Like, the ones you drag in here to play with?”
“Attached how, Sasha?” He arched an eyebrow. “Ask me the real question you want to know, don’t be coy.
No.
She couldn’t.
And she couldn’t for reasons she couldn’t think about.
Because he was reading the fucking page.
Think about anything else.
Red.
Everything here is red.
What else is red?
Fruit is red.
List fruits.
Apple, blueberry, raspberry, strawberry, banana, kiwi, dragonfruit, passionfruit, mango, grape, tomato—
“Oh, just stop.” He sighed and threw up his hands. “When you want to be an adult about this and you’re done hiding whatever it is you’re trying to hide from me, just let me know. Until then, the Knave’s trial starts in a half hour, and I expect you seated at my side.”
He stormed out.
It was only when she heard the door to the room slam that she let out the breath that she’d been holding. Turning back to her overturned coffee mug, she flipped it back over to reveal the very tiny, very grumpy Virtue-the-White-Knight and his very soggy horse.
There hadn’t been much coffee left in the mug.
But there’d been enough.
“Oh. Oh shit. I’m so sorry.” She covered her mouth to hide her smile and her laugh.
They were drenched.
“I feel like there were other options to hide us.” He glared up at her. “Other, easier, less miserable options.”
“I panicked! I didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry.” She couldn’t hide her laugh that time. “Anyway—I—you need to stop Sidney from charging into the castle and trying to stop the Knave’s trial, if she thinks he’s me. I’m perfectly safe. I—I hate Wonderland, and I’m miserable, but I’m safe.”
“I can’t do very much like this.” He gestured down at himself. “We have to figure out a way to scale me up. Make me bigger.”
“What about some of that stupid ‘Eat Me’ cake? I’m sure the kitchens here have some.”
“I’m sure they do, but we can’t use that.”
“Why not?” She furrowed her brow.
“The Mad Hatter in the last chapter said there wasn’t enough cake in the world to grow the White Queen to the right size.
So we can’t use it on me. That’d be a narrative inconsistency.
” He ran his hand through his hair to get some of the coffee out, and then wrung out his horse’s mane. His horse neighed its displeasure.
“Inconsistency? We’re in fucking Wonderland, and you’re going to give me shit about a narrative inconsistency?” She wanted to slap her hand over her eyes.
“There’s suspension of disbelief and then there’s breaking your own world rules. Sorry. You’ll have to think of something else.” Virtue went about wringing out his horse’s tail.
Think of something else. Fine. Whatever. Sure. She sat back in her chair and stared off into the mountains of Wonderland.
What made things bigger?
What made things smaller?
A microscope.
Wait. No.
“We need a magnifying glass.” She put the coffee mug back over him.
“Wait—no, not the mug!”
She ignored his shouts of dismay, and stood. Picking up the saucer and the mug, she went off in search of one. She didn’t know where she’d find one in the castle—she only had a half an hour.
But she knew what she needed.
And, therefore, she knew the story would provide it.
That was just how these things worked.
Stupid fucking kids stories were always that convenient, weren’t they?
“This is extremely stupid.”
Sidney looked up at the castle. She was dressed as a playing-card guard. So was the Mad Hatter. So was the Dormouse and the March Hare, even though their disguises made no sense.
She didn’t even know where they had even procured their outfits.
The story had entirely fucking skipped that part.
But there they were, all dressed up as guards, walking into the castle of the Queen of Hearts.
“Like, this is fucking asinine,” she whispered to the Mad Hatter. “They’re going to spot us in a split second. We look insane.”