“Allie.” Dad’s voice changes tone. “There’s one more thing you need to know: Jeb hasn’t asked about his sister or mother. In fact, he talks about them as if they’re here. As if he’s spent time with them.”
The tears I’ve been holding back finally break loose, fat droplets running down my face. “It’s my fault,” I mumble, swiping my cheeks with the back of my hand. “I hurt him so much he’d rather stay here and create a false reality than face a world full of bad memories.”
“Why do you keep saying things like that? What aren’t you telling me?” Dad pauses rowing. We’re only a few yards from the island now. I wish he’d keep moving. I don’t want to have this conversation. I feel bad enough without his condemnation.
“Something happened on prom night,” I admit reluctantly. “Before the dance.”
“Let me guess. It has to do with Morpheus.”
I groan. “It was just a kiss! Why is Jeb so hurt over a stupid kiss?”
“Wait a minute.” Dad rocks back on his seat, causing the boat to bob. “You kissed that arrogant . . . ? I don’t even know how to process that.”
“Me neither.” He’d be even angrier if he knew the rest. That it wasn’t the first time. That Jeb also knows about the other kiss Morpheus and I shared in Wonderland. That I told Jeb it didn’t mean anything—a lie—then turned around and did it again . . . even though I hadn’t meant for it to go that far. Morpheus twisted the situation to his own end, like he always does.
“Morpheus is a mistake, Alyssa,” Dad continues, as if seeing my thoughts. “He’s manipulative. He has no scruples. And he’s not human.”
“Neither is Mom. Neither am I. Or Jeb, for that matter. Not anymore. Does that make you love us any less?”
The lighthouse swathes us in light and my face burns under Dad’s scrutiny. “Of course not. But love? Is that what you feel for Morpheus?”
I swallow hard. “I’m not sure. It’s all wrapped up in my loyalties to Wonderland. But there’s something real between us. Something powerful.” I sink further into my seat. “It’s complicated.”
Dad starts rowing again. “Well, I know what you feel for Jeb. And it’s simple and pure. You two have been friends since the day you met. And it grew into something more. That’s a tangible thing, Butterfly. And so rare. The best kind of love. He was planning to ask you to marry him. Did you know that? He asked me for your hand.”
My eyes sting. It’s just like Jeb to do something so old-fashioned and beautiful. At least, like the Jeb I once knew.
“He did propose,” I finally manage. “I didn’t get to answer.”
“What was your answer going to be?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. “But that was before . . .”
Dad looks up at the stars. “I know. Before he and Mom were taken.”
I consider correcting him, but it would lead to an interrogation I can’t face tonight.
“You’re the only one who can get through to that boy and help him find his way home,” Dad presses. “But you’ll have to let Wonderland go to do it.”
“No!” I prop my elbows on my knees and hold my head to keep it from exploding. “I’m a queen. I have responsibilities there you can’t even imagine. It’s wrong to deny that side of myself. To turn my back on a world that’s depending on me. I tried to do that . . .” I wave at everything around us. “Well, you can see how great it worked out. I’m never running from my responsibilities again. I have an obligation to the netherlings. I care about them. If Jeb and I are going to have any kind of future, he’ll have to make peace with the fact that Wonderland will play a role in every choice I make for the rest of my life.” I think of the diary at my neck. “In every choice I make here.”
Dad sloshes the oars harder, causing water to spritz across us. “You were human first. You have commitments there, too. People who depend on and love you. Don’t get so caught up in power and politics that you forget that. Or you’ll be doing exactly what Jeb is. Hiding from your humanity.”
Red’s fingerprint—that splitting sensation behind my sternum—punches me. I clutch my hands in my lap to keep from doubling over. “That’s not what I’m doing,” I grit out. “I’m trying to find a balance.”
“How’s that possible?” Dad asks. “Madness is the antithesis to balance. I’ve seen the other side taking over you. And frankly, it scares me. You’re drawn to the darkness, to the lawlessness. Drawn to . . .”
Morpheus.
Even if Dad doesn’t say it out loud, I hear the name echo in the silence.
“He has insinuated himself into your life,” Dad continues.
“Some could argue that Mom’s choices had a hand in that.”
The boat slams into the shore, jarring us. Anger radiates off my dad, which only feeds the sense of right rising hot inside of me.