By his shocked expression, it’s obvious this is the first he’s heard of her plan. “That’s a far nobler quest than I ever thought her capable of.”
“Not noble. There’s no way she’ll let the dreams be free, let them be accessible to everyone. She wants to control that power so she’ll be the most feared and dreaded queen of all time. Yes. Yes, that’s got to be it.” I shiver from head to toe, too horrified to even consider what I’m saying next. “I won’t let her use him like that.”
“Him?” The question slips from Morpheus’s mouth on a shaky breath.
Panic sluices through me—a rush of cold and hot. It’s too late to take back what I said. I hold my breath, waiting to see if I feel different . . . if there’s a physical drain as my powers fade away.
But nothing happens. With just a thought, I coax the papers on the easel to flip and flutter in place. It hits me that I haven’t broken the vow; I didn’t specify our child in my statement. Him is anonymous. Netherling vows are all about technicalities in the wording.
In fact, come to think of it, I promised Ivory never to tell anyone about the vision she shared, but I didn’t say I wouldn’t show anyone.
I stop beside the easel. We’ve already ruined the Queen of Hearts’ pastries. What’s a few opened paint containers?
Morpheus moves behind me to look over my wings, close enough that his clothes snag on my dress’s tiers with tiny popping sounds. I can feel the tension coming off him.
I remove my gloves. After opening three colors—red, blue, and black—I plunge my finger into one, letting the cold goo cover the tip. I work in mosaics. It’s not easy to portray what I’ve seen in my head using paint and paper. I don’t have Jeb’s skill, his light strokes, the ability to translate inner shapes and lines of gravity. But I do my best, sketching a rough image of me in my monarch dress, Morpheus in his suit, and a tiny boy with my eyes, his daddy’s blue hair, and wings.
Before I’ve even drawn the finishing touch of crowns on our heads, Morpheus backs up and drops into the chair where he laid his hat and gloves, crushing them. For the first time, he doesn’t seem to care.
The gems on his temples and cheeks glimmer a deep royal blue, as if he’s moonstruck. “You’ve seen him,” he whispers.
I don’t answer.
“When? How?” he asks.
I tighten my lips more.
By the resigned set of his jaw, it’s clear he understands I’m teetering on the slippery slope of a life-magic vow.
“Oh, Alyssa,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted to tell you for so long. I feared it would frighten you. He’s the most special of all children. He’s going to save our world. Going to teach everyone how to imagine and dream.” That whimsical countenance returns to his face—a glow of euphoria. “I’ve a list of names for him. And there are so many games we can use to guide his skills.”
“I want him to be happy, Morpheus. Above everything else. To have a childhood.”
His features soften to an acute tenderness. “Of course. I’ll sing him lullabies every night. You . . . you can teach him to view the world through the lenses of innocence. We’ll love him. Dote on him. It would be impossible not to. I cannot stop seeing his beauty—the perfect blend of me and you.” Morpheus catches my smeared hands and laces our fingers. The trio of paint smudges his skin so it matches mine as he holds our fingers side by side. “All the shades of us, in one brilliant rainbow.”
The room grows hazy, or maybe it’s the weird lighting.
Morpheus urges me into his lap and snuggles my head under his chin, securing me within his tobacco-scented embrace. It’s the gentlest gesture we’ve ever shared. “Now you know where you belong, Alyssa. With me and our child.”
Red’s vicious imprint tugs behind my breastbone, gouges into my heart. I pull back to meet his dreamy gaze, cupping his face in my hands and leaving smudges of paint on his jaw.
“That’s what you’re not seeing,” I say, my voice airy. “He won’t be ours. Yes, you’ll be bringing a halfling child into the nether-realm. Maybe that’s all that matters. Even if it’s Red who’ll share that life, not me. As long as Wonderland thrives.”
“No.” He startles me by standing us both up. He swipes his crushed hat and gloves to the floor, sets me in the chair again, then kneels at my feet, taking my hands. “You are my only queen. We will cast her out the moment we repair Wonderland. Before a child is ever conceived. I swear this to you.”
I truly believe he wants that, but he doesn’t know I’ve lost my ace or how tired and depleted my body’s feeling. “The diary’s gone. My one chance to defeat her.” I almost tell him it’s his fault for sending Manti’s goons, but what would guilting him accomplish at this point?
Morpheus shakes his head. “That solution was temporary at best. Those memories are still within you, dormant. You can awaken them, weaken her. I believe in your strength. Will you never do the same?”