Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Sidney had never broken into a castle before.
Oh, she’d broken into plenty of places before in her life.
Like that one time when she was a teenager that she’d climbed through a window of the high school to borrow some volleyball equipment for a weekend.
Or the time she’d broken into her own apartment because she’d locked herself out and didn’t want to pay the landlord’s ridiculous fee.
But she’d never broken into a castle to rescue a man—who was actually her sister—who was accused of stealing tarts while dressed as a guard in a costume so obviously fake that it worked because it was too obviously fake to be taken as anything other than perfectly seriously.
As fun as it was, Wonderland logic was going to give her an aneurysm.
“The dungeons should be that way,” the Mad Hatter whispered, which was really more of a whispering shout that echoed down the stone corridor. He pointed to a spiraling staircase that descended into darkness.
“Of course, they’re down there.” She sighed. “Can’t make a dungeon anything but dark and miserable and in the basement. Can’t make a dungeon go up. Otherwise, it’d be a sungeon, I suppose. Or a fungeon.”
The March Hare blinked. “That’s bloody brilliant! We should petition the Queen!”
“Please don’t.” Sidney started down the stairs, her hand trailing the cold stone wall. There wasn’t a railing, otherwise. Just a single metal pillar that ran down the center that moved a little too much for her comfort.
The stone steps were worn smooth and beveled in the center by centuries of people walking on them. “Actually?” She changed her mind. “You know what? Do it. Petition away. The fuck do I care.”
“That’s the spirit!” The Dormouse shouted.
“Shhh!” Sidney and the Hatter shushed the Dormouse in unison. It only made the little creature laugh.
The staircase seemed to go on forever, spiraling down, and down, and down, and down, and down, and down, and down, and down, and down—
This. Sucks.
The torches on the walls flickered with an unsettling purple hue that cast their dancing shadows up on the walls.
Finally, just when she thought it might go on forever, they reached the bottom.
The guard who was at the bottom of the stairs was sitting on a stool, back up against the wall, and was fast asleep, snoring like an old man after Thanksgiving dinner.
It was easy enough to lift the keys from his belt without waking him.
The dungeon stretched out before them, a long corridor lined with cells on either side.
In each cell sat a prisoner, though she had to admit most of them didn’t look terribly distressed to be there.
One of them was knitting a sweater. Another was juggling.
A third appeared to be giving a lecture to an invisible audience about the philosophical implications of being left-handed.
“Excuse me,” Sidney called out politely to the juggling prisoner, deciding he was probably the best choice. “We’re looking for the Knave of Hearts?”
The juggler didn’t miss a beat, continuing to toss the four balls—which on closer inspection were a bit fleshy—into the air. “Third cell on the right. Can’t miss him. He’s the one who won’t shut up about being innocent.”
“Thanks.” Sidney grimaced and kept walking. She didn’t want to ask where he got the balls. It was one of those things where she knew she was happier not knowing.
Sure enough, in the third cell on the right, sat a young…man.
A young man—
Who was very much not Sasha—
Dressed in a red and black checkered outfit.
He had been sitting on a bench with his head in his hands.
For a second, she thought he might have been Virtue, but when he flew up to his feet, she saw his hair was a sandy kind of brownish-blond, and his nose was far too crooked and imperfect for someone like Virtue.
She had interrupted him mid-rant.
“—was in the rose garden! I have witnesses! You—you’ll help me, won’t you? Please, help me!”
“I—um.” Sidney blinked.
Upon seeing who they were, his shoulders slumped. “Oh, you’re just more guards. Are you here to execute me early? Because if so, I have several complaints I’d like to file first. In triplicate.”
“We’re here to rescue you!” The Dormouse shouted, holding up her needle-sword.
“Wait, hold on—” Sidney tried to interrupt but it was too late.
“You are?” He gasped. “How wonderful! Please, quickly now.”
“I—I mean—” Sidney stammered. “I mean yes, but—” But it wasn’t Sasha. That wasn’t her sister. Her sister wasn’t the Knave of Hearts. Which meant she had no idea where or who her sister was in this stupid story. Or what he could possibly be doing to her.
He could still be torturing her, somewhere. Getting some terrible revenge on her for having screwed up the ending of Sherlock on him. He really was taking that personally, for some reason.
Or, honestly, he was probably just torturing her just because he got off on it. That was the far more likely option. He was just using the loyalty thing as an excuse.
Men like him always just needed the thinnest of reasons for an excuse for their actions.
Sidney’d had her fair share of abusive boyfriends in her day. And a girlfriend or two. But they were far fewer in between than the men, if she had to be honest.
She just…really sometimes had it bad for a guy. Like Virtue.
That. Ass.
Focus, Sid. Focus.
The Knave wasn’t Sasha.
But the Knave was still worth rescuing. Right? Right. Just because it wasn’t her sister, didn’t mean he deserved to die. Yeah. Totally.
She stuck the key into the lock.
“Before you do this though, you probably should know something.” The Knave scratched the back of his neck. “I did actually eat the tarts.”
“What.” She stared at him flatly. “You just said you didn’t take them.”
“I said I was in the rose garden, which is technically true, that’s where I ate them. And that I had witnesses.” He smiled shyly, embarrassed. “I never said I didn’t eat them. I did. I had witnesses who saw me eat them.”
Sidney slapped her hand over her eyes.
“The Queen isn’t giving me a fair trial, though! The witnesses and the crumbs on my hands, that’s circumstantial evidence at best!” the Knave argued. “And besides, beheading—that’s—that’s a bit much, don’t you think?”
He had a point. Beheading for tart theft was over-the-top. Or a bit too much off the top.
Shit, she had to get out of here.
“Wonderland justice, for you,” the March Hare shook his head. “Principle of the thing, really.”
Sidney clicked the lock open and pulled the door open with a loud screee—eeeeeeek.
They all reflexively froze. Her, the Hatter, the Dormouse, the Hare, the Knave, and all the prisoners.
In unison, everyone looked down the hallway at the sleeping guard.
Who answered the loud, squeaky door with an equally loud snore.
Sidney let out the breath she’d been holding in relief. “Okay, let’s—” She paused as she heard something from far above them. Hoofbeats. Shouting. The distinct sound of guards screaming and scrambling.
“That’s either a very good sign or a very bad sign,” The March Hare stroked his chin fur.
“I vote very much both,” the Hatter grinned.
The sounds grew louder. Closer. And then?
The ceiling section over the hallway nearby exploded.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
Stone and dust rained down as a figure on horseback burst through from the floor above, landing with a thunderous crash that sent them all diving for cover in the cell from which the Knave had just been freed.
When Sidney poked her head back out, she saw a Knight in white-painted armor sitting astride a massive white horse. He held a gleaming sword in his hand. For all intents and purposes, he looked like something out of a storybook.
Which, technically, he was.
“Virtue?” Sidney scrambled out into the hall, coughing out the dust. “Where the hell have you—”
“I have come to save you!” he announced, his voice ringing with the kind of heroic conviction that would’ve gotten him laughed off the stage of a children’s recital. “The Queen of Hearts will fall, and justice will prevail!”
The Knave raised his hand. “I have so many questions.”
“Get in line,” Sidney muttered, before speaking up, “Yeah, we were handling it. You didn’t need to”—she gestured at the hole in the ceiling—“do that.”
“I made a vow to protect you.” Even through the helmet, she could hear the frown on his face. “Besides, dramatic entrances are what I do best. They’re effective.”
“He has a point.” The Hatter nodded approvingly.
From above, more shouts. Armored footsteps. Lots of armored footsteps.
“Well, either way, you’ve blown our cover. Our extremely shitty cover, but our cover nonetheless.” Sidney sighed and gestured at the tall, skinny man behind her. “And the Knave isn’t actually Sasha.”
“Hello.” The Knave waved at Virtue.
“Yeah. I know.” Virtue frowned. “That’s what I came to tell you. But it seemed I was too late. She’s the—”
There was a commotion at the end of the hallway.
Guards.
“Guards!” The Knave squeaked as the door to the dungeon blew inward. “Lots of guards. So many guards!”
Virtue’s horse reared up as he kicked quickly kicked it to position himself between Sidney and her growing “gang” of Wonderland weirdos and the mass of card-shaped guards still pouring out of the stairwell.
“We fight!” Virtue declared. “For glory, for honor, for—”
“Getting the fuck out of here alive before we all get executed!” Sidney finished.
“That too.” Virtue tossed her his dagger from his belt. “Try not to die, yes?”
“I’ll do my best.” She caught it and sighed.
“To war!” The Dormouse screeched.
Yeah.
To war.
Fuck.
The throne room was chaos.
Guards were scrambling everywhere, shouting orders, running in literal actual circles, and generally achieving absolutely nothing of value.
The Queen of Hearts sat on his throne, looking, as always, supremely bored by the entire affair. He spun the sceptre-turned-walking-stick idly in one hand as he rested his head on his other, his elbow propped up on the arm of his throne.