In my mind, I send up my heart’s deepest desire: that I had never answered the door on prom night when Jeb first came knocking, that I had stepped into that mirror alone.
Behind my closed eyes, a giant pocket watch spins, its hands turning counterclockwise. Everything happens in reverse: my wings sinking back into my skin; our ride on the clams shuffling us upward onto the crumpled chessboard, which levels to a smooth, sandy slant; surfing up instead of down and jumping backward onto March Hairless’s table, face-to-face with icy statues; the kisses in the mirrored hall, all of them taken back—slipped away into a pocket of time never to be remembered by anyone but me; I see the ocean refilling, us leaping into the rowboat, then the octobenus sliding back into the water while we fall asleep once more, only to awaken on the white sandy beaches; me riding atop Jeb’s shoulder as he walks backward, shrinking down to my size as we battle the flowers, then backtrack to the tiny door. Into the rabbit hole, then up, up, up to face the sunshine. Until at last, Jeb’s gone, and I’m falling down the rabbit hole—me and no one else.
My lungs wheeze as if I’ve been dragged underwater. I open my eyes.
All the memories remain, and everything’s the same: Morpheus pinned in place by knights’ swords; the queens, side by side; the guards looking on in anticipation; and Gossamer on my shoulder.
Worst of all … the jabberlock box. The roses are still red. Ivory holds the pewter cube in her hands. I’m about to scream, because the wish didn’t work, and I failed.
The tears in Queen Grenadine’s eyes stop me.
I step closer to the box. On the other side of the opened lid, King Red stares back through black water. Without Jeb here to make the sacrifice, the king used his love for Grenadine to trade places with Ivory, saving both kingdoms. Maybe in some small way, that redeems him for breaking my great-great-great-grandmother’s heart all those years ago.
I wonder if anyone remembers Jeb. The confusion in their eyes tells me they don’t. But I’d bet my life Morpheus does. He’s always been able to get into my mind.
“Foolhardy choice,” he says, confirming my suspicion. “By being the martyr, you’ll never see your family again. How do you think fragile little Mumsy will feel about that?”
“Oh, I’ll see them,” I answer. “It was never the netherling traits that were my family’s curse. You were the curse. Today, I’m breaking you. I’m queen now. The portals are open for me. So I’m going back home, and my family will finally be free.”
He glances down at his shoes, his jewels blinking black and blue, like bruises. “Such pretty delusions, little luv. Almost pretty enough for a fairy tale.” A hoarseness scrapes his voice, tingeing it with remorse.
Tired of his mind games, I start to lift off Grenadine’s crown.
My fingers lock up at the base of the rubies, unable to move. Underneath Queen Red’s hairpin, my scalp flames. White-hot tendrils reach down from my skull into my spine, nailing my entire body into place.
The sensation migrates to my arms, setting my veins on fire. They glow green again, like in the spirit garden, sprouting into ivy. The same sensation runs up my legs beneath the wide skirt. This time, the vines don’t recede into my skin. They grow larger, expand with my breath—a living, breathing plant growing out of me.
I scream as the vines strike like leafy snakes, snapping Gossamer from my shoulder and lashing out at everyone around me.
“What is happening?” Grenadine wails, the ribbons on her fingers all whispering at once.
“Your husband’s sacrifice was for naught!” Ivory screams. “Red’s spirit was in the hairpin … she’s united with the girl … they are one being!”
The knights and guards, fearing for their queens, turn their weapons on me.
Morpheus uses the distraction to whip his wings closed around his chest, knocking the remaining knights off him. With a turn of his heels, he maneuvers behind Ivory and catches her around the waist, vorpal sword at her throat. “Step away from Queen Alyssa, or I slice Ivory in twain and awaken the bandersnatch for a feeding.”
Everyone freezes. Even Gossamer hovers in midair. I want to make a run for the door, but I can’t move. Queen Red is fighting for control of my body, and it takes every last drop of concentration and strength to keep her contained.
“All of you”—Morpheus gestures toward the door—“get out. This is between the three of us now. Or the four of us, if you count the queen you stabbed in the back a lifetime ago.”
Gossamer’s the first to leave, her green shoulders drooping. Grenadine takes the jabberlock box from Ivory and walks backward toward the entrance along with her guards, nearly tripping over some of the dead soldiers on their way out. The elfin knights stand at the ready, waiting for a command from Ivory.
“Do not test me.” Morpheus spreads his wings high and presses the blade to her jugular until a puckered indentation appears.