Chapter 21
Twenty-One
WHITE QUEEN
Sophie and Gregory’s horses rode away along the trail beneath the canopy of moss-draped trees, galloping down the winding forest path until flashes of pale gold and white vanished around the bend entirely, the clip-clop of hooves fading into the hush of the wetlands, the rustle of willow branches.
“Shame.” Chez’s disembodied head purred by my ear as it floated in mid-air, something he did from time to time. “I should have liked them to stay a bit longer. Especially that sassy princess.”
“I know, right?” Linking my fingers behind my back, I turned to face the large country estate.
Rising from the mist-laced landscape, its stone facade was softened by the embrace of nature.
Classic arched windows reflected the shifting light of the lagoon surrounding it, while creeping vines and flowering tendrils traced their way along the pastel walls.
Ornate wrought-iron balconies curled around its upper levels in intricate, delicate patterns, weathered by years of humid air.
Chez plopped on the stone path beside me, his furry feline form fully visible once again. “Are you feeling recovered?”
I nodded. “Much.” I narrowed my eyes questioningly as we walked back toward the house. “By the way, how did the Duchess know we were in trouble? Let alone how to find us?”
“My lady has a particularly rare talent for seeing things that are to come. I occasionally joke that she lives backward in time. She would scream before even being hurt.”
My mind spun at the irrational madness. Much like the horses having been magically transported all the way from Emberstead. It was yet another thing to chalk up to the unfathomable magic of the Land of Wünder.
Chez tilted his head in consideration. “I take it the past couple of days have been…eventful?”
I blew out a breath. “I suppose one might say that. Then again, my days in your mystical land have rarely been uneventful.”
He gave me a knowing grin. “Touché.”
I hadn’t really given it much thought before, but for the first time, I wondered if my normal life held this much excitement. Given recent events, the fresh potential of finding out who I really was nagged more and more at the back of my mind.
A brush of vague apprehension struck me at the notion.
Was I ready?
It was one of those things one wouldn’t be able to unlearn once learned. I would have to be one or the other. The person I was or the person I used to be. At some eventual point, I was going to have to choose.
All these months, I had been working hard on my invention, focusing on the task, on my one clear goal.
I hadn’t even stopped to think that going home would mean leaving here.
Of course, various uncertainties filled my brain, occupied my every thought, much like that of a niggling itch one could not scratch—permutations upon permutations of possibilities, of the odds, of statistics in numbers, wildly spun theories, all the endless what-ifs which could occur in this or any other alternate world.
If I ever managed to make my machine work, if I was finally able to make it home… I wasn’t even sure if I really wanted to.
What sort of world would I be coming back to? What sort of person did I even used to be?
Would my family or friends have been waiting for me all this time? Did I have any family or friends waiting for me? Perhaps everyone had already given me up for dead. What if everyone had already forgotten all about me?
Or worse, what if there was a reason I had left—a bad one? And what if no one was awaiting my return? What if, in fact, they preferred that I stayed away? What if I actually had no home to go back to?
Not to mention that ever-present prevailing nagging thought in the back of my mind, which often won most of my pondering.
Nobody wanted me back.
I shook my head to clear it. I would cross that bridge when I got to it—if I ever did. There was no sense in counting those chickens before they hatched.
The Duchess’s melodious voice, carrying across the veranda steps, broke through my reverie as she waved us up. “Come along then. It’s time for a spot of tea.”
We were led into the sunroom where brilliant light poured through towering glass windows, bathing everything in orange and gold.
Fragrant tea leaves, citrus, and fresh flowers filled the air from the quaint round table, which had been laid with a lavish spread that looked almost too beautiful to touch.
Tiered trays overflowed with delicate pastries dusted in powdered sugar, flaky fruit tarts glazed with berries, warm breads split with cream and honey, and small cakes decorated with edible flowers.
Polished silver gleamed among porcelain teacups painted with winding blue floral patterns, which sat beside glass jars of preserves and crystal dishes of sugared fruits.
The Wicked King stood to one side, his dark clothing not only providing a stark contrast but seeming to drink in the brightness around him. Of course, he hadn’t cared to see Sophie and Gregory on their way. His shadows curled tentatively at his feet despite the sunlight flooding the room.
My gaze darted warily between his still figure and the Duchess. With my heightened senses, I caught the faintest brush of her apprehension. As far as I was aware, she hadn’t seen Rabb in about eight months either. Ever since he cut all ties with his past.
With the sullen frown on his face, despite our having overcome our recent near-death situation, it didn’t seem like a happy reunion was in the cards.
“Did His Majesty not keep in touch with the Duchess, either after all this time?” I covered my mouth so only Chez could hear my whisper.
Chez, easily reading the room, responded similarly hushed. “Do you think they’re going to perform pleasantries and pretend nothing has been amiss?”
Utterly baffled, I lifted my shoulders. “How should I know? You are the ones who have been friends for centuries.”
The king lifted his chin as the Duchess approached, her steps remaining as serene as her facial expression.
It was clear that even though he was King of all Wünder, he still held the Duchess in high regard. They had both served the Red Queen for the longest time with their equally impressive magic.
He shifted his stance as she took another step closer. It almost looked like he was about to acknowledge the Duchess with a small gesture of respect.
The Duchess’s large feather fan snapped him over the head.
“OW!” Rabb’s eyes bulged in stunned disbelief.
I almost released a sudden burst of laughter.
Chez, on the other hand, collapsed onto his back on the marble floor, kicking his paws wildly as his uncontrollable laughter spilled in fits of hilarity.
The Duchess dared to look down her nose at Rabb, her blue eyes narrowing. “Your Majesty, it is an honor to host you at my estate. Finally. After all this time. Amidst multiple ignored invitations.” Her words were flat, displeased.
Rabb hissed through his teeth, “I was rather busy.” Lifting his hand, he rubbed at the sore spot on the crown of his head.
“Yes, yes. We’ve all heard how busy you’ve been. I do sincerely hope it has been a fulfilling use of your precious time.” She rolled her eyes, closing her fan shut with a snap.
The king’s face darkened as he grumbled, “I take it you no longer wish for me to kill you,” he offered, as it had always been the Duchess’s standing request of the Red Queen’s best assassin.
“Of course not.” The Duchess’s tone turned wry. “With the Red Queen no longer holding my leash, I have found many other fascinating hobbies to occupy my time—which you would know if you had bothered to visit or write.” Her blue eyes widened. “For almost a year.”
Infinitely amused, I couldn’t help a shake of my head.
I couldn’t imagine anyone else getting away with how the Duchess was treating the Wicked King of Wünder.
Then I saw something I never thought I’d see in a hundred years.
The most powerful tyrant king across all of Wünder tilted his head in a low bow of deep respect. “It is good to see you again, old friend.” He cast a glance to one side. “You too, cat.”
Chez jolted, as stunned as anyone.
My jaw was on the floor.
The Duchess snapped her fan open once more to fan her reddening face. “Oh, golly, my darlings. I think I had better see to the tea before I start tearing up and creating a whole new river.”
“And I walked in there, His Majesty’s face was completely red.” Chez thumped his paw against the table in amusement. “How was I supposed to know he wasn’t done casting his seduction spells and whatnot?”
The Duchess’s peals of laughter erupted in uncontrollable spurts and snorts.
Even the king’s lips were pursed tight in silent bemusement, if a little annoyance.
Looking around the tea table, I couldn’t help my grin.
The bright, playful warmth of old friends slipping back into familiar rhythms was surprisingly rejuvenating.
Despite the thin thread of overarching tension at the king’s daunting presence and everything his title carried, it was clear that he, Chez, and the Duchess had all missed each other’s company.
“Allie had slipped something in his wine,” Chez went on. “He was growling and yelling that he was about to die, and that she’d poisoned him, but it was utterly hilarious.”
“In my defense—” I put my hand up. “I had no idea he would be so sensitive to a few, simple herbs.”
The king averted his gaze coolly. “You say herbs. I say poison.”
Chez snickered. “And after all that, we discovered that Allie was impervious to such spells anyway.”
“Oh, I do recall this!” The Duchess piped up. Leaning closer, she casually put a hand on the king’s forearm. “You all dropped in for a quick visit. I was absolutely baffled that our handsome king’s magnetic charms didn’t work on our lovely Allie.”
“Of course, at the time, it didn’t work,” Chez added.
The king’s retort was flat. “It never worked.”
“Well…” The Duchess’s eyebrow rose in suggestion. “Not never.”
My gaze caught the king’s for the briefest moment before we both looked away immediately.
He cleared his throat.
I bit my lip, my cheeks reddening.