Chapter 1
T his is madness.
Logically, I knew that banging a metal tool in frustration against a broken furnace didn’t help get it fixed any faster.
That letting oneself get distracted by irrelevant notions didn’t lend to finer concentration on fixing said broken furnace. That rage destroyed reason, clarity, and rational thought.
The continuous banging of my wrench echoed like a bell against the brass pipework wound throughout the innards of the entire structure of the clock tower around me.
The noise would have disturbed every living thing in the area if only the vast desert wherein I lived was anything but an almost remote wasteland.
Although amidst the creaks and groans filling the ancient structure, the once never-ending, rhythmic clinking of massive metal gears and mechanical workings of the tower’s clock face, which used to be a constant, was no longer.
Strange how I’d never considered the perpetual ticking wearisome.
Silence.
That was the more wearisome.
Underneath the glowing ball of witchlight hovering above me, I squinted at the broken thermocouple at the bottom of the cast-iron furnace before me.
The mechanism stuck halfway, stubborn and useless.
“Aahh!” Groaning, I hammered my wrench against the metal pipes once again—fruitlessly, helplessly.
A hiss of steam and a mechanical hum jerked me back to my senses as a bit of machinery came to life behind me.
Glimpses of exposed brass pipes and spinning gears passed before my eyes as a metal car clinked and clanked within the silent iron-framed cage of the elevator well installed in the corner.
“What in the fresh tide’s name is all that racket?”
The lazy query floated along as the elevator came to a stop with a jolt. A fuzzy, purple cat tugged on the wrought-iron gates, tilting his disproportionately large head sideways to squeeze past the gap he had barely bothered to open fully.
I wiped the prickly sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand, and soot smudged along my forearm.
I cast a glance down at myself. Wrinkled and in disarray, my lab coat, which had, at one point in time, I was sure, been pristine white, had collected several new amusing patterns of black oil spatters, coal, and smears of mold.
My trousers looked as though I had trudged through Tulgey Woods during sludge season.
Tsk.
Not caring that I was covered in grime, kneeling on the floor, I shot the cat a narrow-eyed look. “Can you even believe this, Chez?”
The cat’s fur, despite being matted in places, swirled with different patterns of luminous whorls in shades of violet, accompanying the animal’s movements as he padded across the floor. “Believe what?”
“Believe what ?” I echoed in mockery. “That!” I pointed my wrench accusatorily at the unrolled parchment sitting atop the pile of spare parts and dust bunnies on a rickety wooden table to one side of the small room. “Can you believe that?”
Ignoring my question for the moment, he eyed the metal mechanical beast before me and the wrench in my hand. “Are you fixing that furnace or merely abusing it?”
I sat back on my ankles with a huff. “This furnace is being unreasonable.”
The cat sprang from the floor to the wobbly table with a deft correction of claws and tail, then launched again in one fluid, elastic arc to land balanced atop a higher wooden shelf, before peering at the aforementioned parchment.
As if responding to his need, the glowing ball of mystical light floated closer to the table.
Turning my tools back to task, I couldn’t help muttering, “‘The King does not forget unanswered invitations.’ It’s like saying attendance is not optional.”
Chez’s eyes were yellow and wide. “Why do you even have one of these? They only went out to the titled houses and kingdoms.”
“Whatever.” I waved my wrench. “Who cares how I got it? The point is—seriously? Now he’s seeking a bride like this?
He’s…” My breath momentarily failing me, my hands fell slack with the tightening in my chest. “He’s looking for…
” I clenched my jaw, willing annoyance and mocking to wash over me. “It’s such absolute arrogance.”
It had been eight months since the Red Queen of Hearts was vanquished and the rightful ruler of the Land of Wünder was found.
With the magic of the land taking on the essence of its ruler, it used to be a whimsical, if oppressed, land. Its people mere puppets serving only to provide the queen with daily entertainment—not to mention providing her with hearts to harvest for sustaining her magic.
But under the new king’s rule, Wünder gradually shifted to imbue the darkness of his ruthless shadows. His reputation as a most feared assassin already preceded him, having slaughtered dozens of kingdoms before taking the throne.
With each day came news of more towns leveled, more kingdoms slain, more enemies vanquished. Some said the king was merely consumed by vengeance, obsessed with enacting revenge upon those who had wronged or betrayed his deceased family. Others said the power of the crown had simply made him mad.
Squashed under his boot, the citizens of Wünder cowered in fear. No one who resisted or questioned his reign of terror lived on to tell the tale. The mere utterance of his name deemed punishable by death.
Not one soul on Wünder could even attempt to put a stop to the tyranny of the most powerful sorcerer king of fire and shadow. The heartless king. The Wicked King.
Several soft thumps, and Chez’s fur was sidled up against my arm. He rarely leaned on me this way. He was heavier than a regular cat, but I appreciated the gesture. His expression somber, he purposely paused before commenting, “He’s not the same man, Alice.”
His ominous statement fell into the unbearable silence of the clock tower.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “I know that.”
Logically, I knew that.
Of course, the king wasn’t the man I once knew.
And of all people on Wünder, I should know.
When we’d first met, he was a mere assassin, harvesting human hearts for the Red Queen. But when he was ordered to kill me, he’d fought against her control and vanquished her instead.
He saved my heart.
And in turn, I saved his.
It was only unfortunate that we didn’t realize the curse that came with the swapping of hearts, especially in this capricious, mystical wonderland.
Staring at the faint shadows moving before me as the witchlight adjusted again, I clutched at my chest where the true heart of the Wicked King sat—pumping, beating, racing…
The prevailing opinion was that perhaps I shouldn’t have—saved him, that was. As ever, it seemed nothing good had come of the most powerful former sorcerer assassin coming to power.
He had become a new man.
A new man who was now king…and a stranger to me.
Wholly infuriated, I stuffed my wrench back in my tool belt. The blasted furnace was going to have to wait. Winter was going to have to go hang.
Blowing out a breath, I pushed up to stand, turning to Chez.
“Can I assume that you’re here because you finally have news from the Duchess?
” I snapped my fingers to extinguish the glowing orb, then grabbed the bit of parchment before striding toward the elevator.
“Or did you simply pop by since you’ve run out of amusements elsewhere? ”
Chez padded over. “I hadn’t intended to leave you alone for such a long time.”
“It’s fine.” Once he was on, I tugged the gate closed. “I had plenty of work to do.” As soon as I pushed the button for the floor destination, the elevator mechanism shifted up in smooth hums and whirs.
“Work as in…?”
Slivers of light broke through the metal cage as the elevator carriage moved up the tower several floors before easing to a stop one level before the topmost.
I gave him a pointed tilt of my head. He was, in fact, the only one who knew what I had been working on all this time.
“Ah.”
Opening the metal gates, I stepped into the cozy space where flickering gas lamps and the warm, amber glow of bulbs cast shadows across the way, blending seamlessly with the clock’s unmoving inner workings.
I inhaled the faint scent of oil and metal hanging in the air. The entire room was filled with a constant low hum of machinery. It always afforded me a sense of familiarity, a reassurance, a comfort.
This floor used to be a storage area. The loft and living area were situated within the top of the clock tower, on the floor directly above. But I was always more comfortable in my laboratory.
My lab was my sanctuary.
I crossed the floor to wash my hands. “So what did the Duchess say?”
“My lady says with the ‘River of Tears’ virtually unpassable, it’s still quite a challenge for her to journey to this side of Wünder. But she is still trying to find a way. Meanwhile, the mirror should still work to facilitate communication with her.”
I scrubbed my hands harder to expel the stubborn grease. “You’re lucky you still have means to travel all across the lands.”
He mewled. “My dear, lest you forget, I am a Cheshire cat. I have my ways.”
My lips curled. “You keep saying that, but what does that actually mean?”
“It means…I am a Cheshire cat. That’s what it means.” His grin widened as if to say, ‘That’s all the answer could ever be.’
I could only scoff in disbelief. “Whatever, Chez.”
When I’d first arrived on Wünder, a great many things made absolutely no sense to me—until I gradually realized that they were simply not meant to.
In this mystical world, I had grown accustomed to having no answers, no explanations. Some things simply were . Granted, I never stopped being curious about them. But more often than not, I had learned to let the random oddities go.
Talking flowers talked. Time and logic functioned strangely. The mystical tide would come overnight to refresh the magic of the land. And Chez would forever be maddeningly vague about his true nature.
Not that I had the luxury to dissociate from anyone for petty reasons. Chez was the closest friend I had. He and the Duchess were all I had.