I stand my ground. “Jeb wants to grow old with me. The human in me wants that, too. To experience what Alice never did in the mortal realm. He was willing to risk his one life and face Red so I could have a future with you. My happiness was more important to him than his own. Yet you’re asking me to walk away from him after all he’s given up for Wonderland?”
“What makes you think I am?” Morpheus hangs his hat on the arm of his chair as he pours cranberry-colored liquid into one cup. Wisps of steam fill the room, carrying notes of mint and lavender.
“The sentence you wrote.”
“Ah. That . . .” He motions for me to sit. When I don’t budge, he seats himself, crossing his legs at the ankle. His wings hang wide on either side of his chair. “Alyssa, think. Have I ever taken advantage of your innocence?”
“No.”
“Have I had means or opportunity?”
“Many, on both counts.”
“All right. You’ve learned so much on your journey. Surely you haven’t already forgotten the most important lesson: how words can say one thing, but mean another.” He lifts his cup and regards me over the rim while sipping, then sets it on his saucer with a clink. “It’s crucial, as queen of the Red Court, for you to keep that upmost in your mind in all situations. You must always consider every angle of every statement before you react emotionally.”
So, this night is both a lesson and a test. He’s teaching me the politics of Wonderland, but at the same time, testing me to see if I can practice what I preach: trust him the way I expect him to trust me.
“Now,” he continues. “I brought the tea to relax you. But you are by no means obligated to drink it. Although, at the very least, after all we’ve been through, one would think you could sit and speak your heart to me. If it would make it easier, use the chess pieces, like when we were little.”
I take a deep breath, gather my skirt around my legs, and sit in the chair across from him.
Concentrating on the Alice figurine, I imagine her alive. She retains her teensy size, but begins to move, stretching out her arms and legs as if she’s been asleep for years. She prances over to the caterpillar and curtsies.
“How do you fare this evening, Mr. Caterpillar?” she says in a milky voice of innocence. “I should like to thank you for not crowning me earlier, for finding another way. It was quite noble.”
Morpheus grins. The blue light at his fingertips snaps out and wraps around the caterpillar chess piece, wriggling it in front of the Alice caricature as if it were moving. He’s the master puppeteer, exactly as he was in our games as children. Exactly as he was in the human realm. Exactly as he always will be.
“Far from noble, My Queen.” His voice is comical and high-pitched. “Self-serving, in fact. Without any memory of your humanness, you would not be the girl I shared a childhood with. And, I’m loath to admit it, living out your life with the humans you love will make you a better ruler here. You know I always do what’s best for Wonderland.”
Those words have never sounded more beautiful or poignant. I coax my tiny Alice to drag a foot along the board. “You said you were done waiting,” she mumbles under my command. “And you’re right. I cannot ask you to wait any longer. You should find someone else.” As much as it hurts to hear the words leave her lips, Morpheus deserves to be happy.
He dips his chess piece, as if it were slouching, and answers in that nasally lilt. “Bless it, little majesty, have you forgotten what I am? As a solitary fae, I do not require company. In fact, I find the constant give-and-take of companionship tedious on the best day. Although I expect to discover the charm in it, some sixty years or so down the line.”
Tears sting my eyes, but I won’t let them fall. Instead, minuscule streams trickle down Alice’s cheeks. “Then I should like to add that I’m sorry. I’m sorry you have to wait so long for so many things.”
Morpheus’s gaze flashes to mine, then back to the chess piece wrapped in his magic. “Stop crying,” his quirky voice scolds. “Queens don’t cry. I taught you better than that.”
I bite my quivering lip, and tiny Alice strokes the caterpillar’s face. “But you’re crying . . .”
Morpheus lowers a wing and shades his cheek along with the transparent glimmer of his jeweled markings. “Well”—his shrill voice cracks slightly—“contrary to my preferences for lace and velvet, I’m not the queen. So I can cry all I like.”
My answering snort is clipped with a sob. I cover my mouth with my fingertips, guiding Alice to dry her face with her pinafore. “I love you. I don’t want to hurt you,” I murmur behind my hand.