Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
HOOK
The map sprawls across the table, a mess of angles and lines that looks neat enough at first glance, but it’s tangled with enough nonsense to leave my head spinning.
As I spread it out, hoping that seeing it laid before me might reveal something more sensible, Alice leans in close—so close I can feel the warmth of her breath on my neck.
Merrik’s lot bustle around, clearing the table, but I snap my hand down over a plate piled with bread and meat.
“Leave this one,” I say, giving them a hard look, and they pause. I might be full, but who knows when we’ll get our next meal.
“So,” Alice starts, edging even closer, “what does the map say to you?”
I arch a brow. “The map doesn’t talk, love.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s not discouraged. “Yes, I realise that, but you can read it, can’t you?”
“Darling, I’ve been reading maps since I was yay high to a grasshopper.” I raise the map and tilt my head, watching her expression as she follows every movement.
“Good,” she says, hands planted on her hips. “Then what does this one tell you?”
I sigh and let my shoulders drop, eyeing the parchment with a growing frustration.
Every time I look away and back, I’m convinced something on it shifts—just a fraction, just enough to throw me off.
Ignoring Alice’s closeness, I scan the lines and symbols again, tracing them with my finger.
She’s practically breathing down my neck now.
She points to the X with a jab of her finger. “That’s where we need to go?”
I pull the map just out of her reach, smirking as her gaze narrows. “Seems that way.” If she keeps glaring like that, she’ll end up with creases across that pretty face. “Perhaps leave the map reading to me.”
She lets out a huff, her eyes flashing, clearly seconds away from saying something cutting. Instead, I turn to the girl who handed me the map. She watches us both with a bright-eyed intensity that’s a touch unsettling. Seeing her properly now, she couldn’t be more than seventeen.
I jab a finger at the X. “What’s here? Why’d you mark this spot?”
She hesitates, her gaze fixed on the X like she’s carefully picking her words. “The answer… to what you seek,” she says softly.
“The Queen stole Neverland’s magic—that’s what I’m here for.
It’s here?” I study her face, wondering if she knows.
Back in Neverland, they’d have called her a ‘seer.’ Her kind see things, but rarely are their visions accurate.
They’re mixed with fragments that don’t make sense—a mess in their heads, enough to drive anyone mad.
I have no choice in this instance to assume what she sees is what I need. There is nothing else to go on.
“The Queen’s taken magic from every realm,” Merrik cuts in, voice low. “Everything she can lay her hands on.”
I nod, biting back a retort. I’d seen that—the mirrors, the shadows, her twisted games. I glance around the bar, taking in every face, every expression. Each one is etched with raw, desperate hope, clinging to something they think we can offer them. It makes my skin crawl. I’m no one’s saviour.
But Alice… She’s watching me too, her gaze wavering between suspicion and something softer. She's watching the girl, searching her face. “Where exactly is this?” she presses. “How do we get there?”
The girl stares back, eyes wide with something close to fear. She hesitates, glancing down before finally saying, “There are… we…” Her hand flies to her mouth, and the colour drains from her.
Merrik clears his throat, leaning in close, his voice low.
“We can’t speak of certain things, nor certain places,” he says, casting a wary glance at the doors.
“To whisper about such things is an act of treason.” He leans in even closer, voice dropping to a hush.
“The Queen has eyes and ears everywhere. To speak of such things would bring her wrath down on us all.”
I nod, biting back any further questions. I’ve seen enough of the Queen’s brand of ‘wrath’ to know that his warning isn’t an exaggeration.
My eyes drift back to the map. From what I can tell, each line, curve, and symbol marks a different path—paths that all twist back on themselves, looping into one another. And every single one seems to end in a dead end. A hundred different ways to get nowhere. I’m not even sure which way to go.
“Is that your grand plan, then?” she snaps, stepping closer. “To stare it into submission?”
My jaw clenches, but I don’t look up. She’s baiting me, and damn if I’m not tempted to bite.
I lift my head slowly, letting my gaze settle on her. She’s standing there with her arms crossed, chin tipped up, and I can feel everyone else’s eyes shifting to her too.
“In your world,” I reply, voice low, “are you used to having everyone else do everything for you?”
Her mouth sets in a hard line, a spark of challenge lighting her gaze. “You know nothing about me.”
“No,” I say, turning back to the map and leaning in as if I could bore a hole straight through it. “But I don’t need to.”
Every path looks like it'll take us two days' walk at best, but there's no way to know. Behind me, I can feel her glare searing into the back of my neck.
The thing is, while I'm studying the map, the people around us aren't just staring.
They're subtle in their movements, but they keep offering Alice things—a chair, another chair, something to eat, a drink.
Two of them actually bow to her. I catch the flicker of confusion—and irritation—in her eyes as she tries to peer over my shoulder.
“Why don’t you have a seat, Princess? Let the men do the work,” I say. I can practically feel her anger from across the table.
“If you don’t stop calling me Princess, I’m going to—”
But she’s cut off when the fat, pompous bloke from before—the one who looks like he swallowed a whole pumpkin—sidles up with that self-important look, hands clasped behind his back. He actually nudges Alice aside, as if she’s in his way.
“Excuse me?” she snaps, eyes flashing, trying to get around him.
I look up at her, feigning innocence. “You’re excused.”
The man clears his throat, puffing himself up, and turns his gaze to the map. “Ah, you’re seeking the swiftest path, I presume?”
“You presume correctly,” I reply, throwing Alice a wink as she shoots me the angriest, most fiery glare I’ve seen yet.
He chuckles, indulgent, and peers down at the map as if it’s some child’s scribble. “Well, as we say in Wonderland … the fastest route is rarely the quickest way, and the quickest way often isn’t the fastest.”
Alice fights her way back to the table, nearly elbowing her way in as someone hands her a small jacket, and another, bizarrely, offers her a large vase. She scowls, her patience clearly thin. “That … makes absolutely no sense.”
He raises a hand as though to silence her, his beady eyes never leaving the map. “Should you require guidance, simply ask for directions from those who have no idea where they’re going. They often know the way.”
I sweep a hand across the map. “There you go, Princess. Just ask for directions. Maybe try to be a bit more constructive, hmm?”
Her scowl deepens. “I swear to god, I could kill you right now.”
“And many have tried, Princess, yet here I am, and where are they?”
“My lady requires a sword?” one of the patrons offers, holding up what looks like an old, well-worn blade, his hands rough and calloused from work—a blacksmith, by the looks of him.
Alice’s eyes light up, and she raises a brow. “Actually, yes, I would. A sword, and then I’ll run you through.”
Alice manages to push through the crowd, and people part for her with strange reverence.
A woman curtseys in front of her, and Alice, with only a slight nod, acknowledges it before she makes her way to the other side of the table, away from the pompous bloke, who doesn’t look pleased.
I couldn’t care less. Let them stare. Let them do cartwheels if they want.
I just need to figure out this map and find the bloody way out of here.
I lean over the map, hands braced on either side, studying it intently.
“You make it look so complicated,” Alice says, her voice dripping with exasperation. “Just head north, past… whatever that is.” She squints and leans in. “Is that a maze?”
I frown, glancing to where she’s pointing. There’s no maze there, just a series of hills. “Have you lost your mind? Do you need glasses? There’s no maze.”
She shoots me a scathing look. “Have you lost your mind? It’s right there.” She jabs a finger at the spot.
I shake my head, still only seeing hills. “That is not a maze, Princess. That’s—”
“For the love of god, stop calling me that,” she snaps.
“Princess,” I say, just to rile her.
She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. “Child.”
I smirk. “Do you practise being insufferable? Because believe me, you’re a natural. Might be the only thing you’re an expert in.”
She lets out a frustrated growl. “Do you practise being a pig? Because believe me, you’re top of the class.” And then, quick as anything, she snatches the map from under my nose. Holding it up, she jabs a finger at the spot. “Look, smartarse. A maze.”
I stare, and sure enough, there it is—a twisting, looming maze where before there’d been nothing but hills. “No… that wasn’t there before.”
A small woman beside us gasps, her eyes wide with awe. “She’s the right Alice. I told you. It’s her.” She elbows the person next to her.
The crowd erupts in murmurs, half excited, half doubtful.
“Not the wrong Alice,” another voice insists, as if trying to convince themselves.
The pompous bloke crosses his arms, shaking his head with disdain. “No, no, she’s definitely the wrong Alice. You’re all seeing what you want to see.”
An elderly man steps forward, his gaze flicking nervously to Alice. “The maze only appears for the true Alice,” he says, nodding slowly as if this settles the matter.
Around us, the crowd grows louder, some claiming she’s the right Alice, others muttering that she’s a fraud, each voice adding to the chaos.
I lean in close, lowering my voice just for her. “Guess you’re causing quite the stir, Princess.”
She narrows her eyes at me, her voice edged with venom. “I hate you. Do you know that?”
I laugh, letting my eyes linger on hers. “Oh, darling, you have no idea what your words do to me. I—”
But before I can finish, the main door slams open, and everyone falls silent, freezing in place. The slightly chaotic crowd—still in the middle of their bowing, bickering, and fussing—stops as a man rushes in, wide-eyed.
“The Queen,” he pants, his voice laced with fear. “She’s coming. The guards—they’re heading this way.”
His words send a ripple of panic through the crowd, their arguments dissolving into a single, united fear. Merrik shoves his way through to us, his grip tight as he grabs Alice’s arm, urgency in his voice.
“Run, Alice. Run. Out the back door, now.”
Without a second thought, I grab her hand, pulling her with me as the crowd’s fearful whispers grow, and we head out the backdoor.