His brother.
Uncle Bernie nods and promises to return. I watch his back—broader than Dad’s—as he steps out into a cushioned hallway lined with dozens of upholstered doors similar to the one in our room.
Chessie screws his head on once more, flitters his wings, and follows my uncle before I can thank him for healing me and watching over the diary.
The door shuts, leaving Dad and me alone with nothing but the popping of lit candles. I can still see the worry lines on his forehead, etched in place by Mom and Jeb’s absence over the past few weeks. But there’s happiness softening the ones around his eyes.
All my life I thought we had no extended family. Then last year I realized Mom and I were related to magical creatures from Wonderland. Now, I have an uncle. A human uncle who looks like the Prince of Thieves.
I must have other relatives, too. Cousins and aunts, even grandparents.
Which means Dad has nephews and nieces. Parents of his own . . .
“When are we going to meet them?” I ask, not sure he’ll pick up on my inference.
“My mom and dad are gone.” Regret echoes in his voice, becoming my own. “But I have two sisters, and they have children. As do Bernard and his wife. We’ll meet them after we find your mother and Jeb. Other than the netherlings passing through, only members of the Looking-glass Knighthood stay at this inn. My brothers, uncles, male cousins, and nephews. The women and youngest children stay elsewhere in Oxford.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded.
Dad catches both my hands. “We’re descended from the same lineage as Charles Dodgson. After he discovered the way to Wonderland, and after Alice found her way back out of the rabbit hole—”
“Wait,” I interrupt. “Charles discovered the way to Wonderland? I thought Alice told him about the rabbit hole. That she inspired his fictionalized account. Are you saying he actually knew the place was real?”
Dad shrugs. “The only history we’ve retained is that the men in our family were called by Charles to guard the gates of AnyElsewhere. To be appointed as knights. His published works help fund us. It’s been our duty for over a century. The boys are tested when they’re seven years old. There’s usually only one son born with the gene. My brother and I were the exception. We both had it.”
“What gene?”
“A second sight like Charles had. An ability to see the weak points in the barrier between the nether-realm and our world. It has to do with infinity mirrors.”
The only infinity mirrors I’m aware of are in funhouses at carnivals and county fairs. I swallow hard, wondering how such a childish diversion could be the gateway to a horrific place like the looking-glass world. But then again, maybe that’s fitting, considering Wonderland is built upon children’s dreams, imagination, and nightmares—considering those things are its very foundation.
“So . . . you had that ability?” I ask.
“Have it,” Dad corrects. “I forgot after my memories were erased. But it’s all come back. I was captured by the spider creature a few months after I started training to be a White knight.”
My chin quivers. I should be in awe just imagining him as a knight, but there’s sadness in his voice. I lean in to hug him. He wraps his arms around me, careful to avoid smashing my wings.
He regrets missing out on the life he was meant for. Just like Mom missed out on hers.
My birth, my entire existence, has been at the expense of their noble and royal callings. Not to mention, a black stain on the once beautifully bizarre landscapes of Wonderland that are now withering because of me.
“I’m sorry,” I say, wishing I could blot out all of my wrongs with an apology. But it’s not possible.
I think of the tiny diary in the ballet bag. Red’s regrets were so acute, she cast them aside, abandoning the memories that made them. But there’s no “forgetting potion” I can take. And even if there were, I wouldn’t. Nothing can be erased if I’m going to put things right for everyone. And I will, no matter what it costs me in the end.
“Don’t be sorry.” Dad’s breath warms the top of my head. “I do wish I’d known my relatives. But I wouldn’t change anything else. If I had been a White knight, I would never have met your mom. We wouldn’t have had you. And, for the record, I wouldn’t trade my two girls for anything in any world.” He presses a kiss against my hair.
I snuggle close, struggling to make my voice work. “Thanks, Dad,” I whisper, comforted by the waxy-crayon scent of his shirt. Even if he’s able to accept the turn his past took, I can’t accept the one our present has.