Backpack in place, Jeb walked the circumference of the chasm without finding any openings. Displaced rocks filled any possible passages he might’ve tried. He might as well have fallen into a giant tube. There was no way out other than up.
He pointed his light at the grassy perch some twenty stories above—the clearing where Alyssa had landed. He was determined to find her before Morpheus did, even if he had to scale the jutting rocks in the dark without a safety rope.
He’d no sooner wedged the flashlight in his mouth and banked his foot on a crag to boost himself up than a familiar British voice rang out.
“Get to it, men. We need an accurate head count before the Twid sisters send their pixie brigade to gather up the dead.”
Morpheus.
Jeb stepped down and almost collided with the winged netherling who had appeared from out of nowhere—as if he’d unzipped the air and slipped through. Twenty to thirty Elfin Knights filed in behind him, carrying lanterns and wearing the same uniform as Jeb, though much less frayed and dirty. They strode by without giving Jeb a second glance, too intent on the body count.
“Well, hello, pseudo knight.” Morpheus smirked.
Every part of Jeb itched to rip off his cocky grin and pound his face. But he was outnumbered. If he wanted to get out of this pit and find Al, he would have to play nice.
“I hate to say it, but it’s good to see you, Sir Morphs-a-lot.” Jeb tucked his flashlight away. “You took the mirror route, I see.”
“Glass is the only way to travel.” Morpheus held up his lantern and examined Jeb’s ruined clothes. “For one, it’s a bit kinder on the wardrobe. And I’ll let you in on another secret. By keeping my wings on that side of the plane”—he pointed a thumb at his back, where half of his appendages weren’t visible—“the opening stays accessible for our return trip.”
Jeb forced a smile. “Good to know.” Perfect, in fact. He could go back with this fairy troupe, then take the mirrored-hall express to find Al. He would have to distract Morpheus first, though—get his guard down. “So, is that a new hat?”
Morpheus practically beamed. “How kind of you to notice. It’s my Insurrection Hat. I’ve ne’er had occasion to wear it until today.” He flicked several of the scarlet moths that made up the garland on the hat’s brim, then leaned forward and cupped Jeb’s ear to muffle a secret. “Their red wings represent bloodshed,” he whispered.
“Uh-huh.” Jeb clenched his jaw at the unwelcome rush of warm breath along his earlobe. He glared at the knights, discernible only by their lanterns floating in the blackness behind him. “So you’re planning a revolt with the Ivory Queen’s army.”
Morpheus squeezed Jeb’s shoulder. “Always knew you were smarter than the average mortal.”
Jeb’s muscles twitched at the contact. “Which means you were just sending Al on a wild goose chase for your own entertainment.” Careful. He couldn’t let his distrust show. Not yet. Instead, he bent down to adjust his boot laces and took a deep breath before straightening.
Morpheus tightened his crimson necktie. “Every task I’ve asked of Alyssa has had a purpose.” He stepped to one side as someone new slipped through the mirror portal—a dwarfish skeleton with antlers and glowing pink eyes, trussed up in a red waistcoat.
“Rabid White?” Jeb whispered in disbelief. None of this made sense. Rabid was from the Red Court. Why was he here?
“What’s the report, then?” Morpheus crouched down close to Rabid’s height, still keeping his wing tips tucked inside the invisible mirror portal.
The little netherling kneaded his gloved hands and glared up at Jeb, his bald head reflecting the soft shimmer of Morpheus’s lantern. “One of us, are you?”
Morpheus smiled and answered for Jeb. “Of course he is. He helped our Alyssa conquer the big bad Red army, did he not?”
Scratching his left antler, Rabid nodded. “King Grenadine, neutralized be. At both the front and back gates, the castle guarded by regiments three and seven. Flanking the queen, a circle of five. And not to dismiss, the crown and its keeper.”
“Ah, yes. The bandersnatch. Well, once Alyssa brings me her prize from the Twid sisters’ cemetery, I’ll have nothing more to fear from that wretched beast. You’ve done well, Sir White.” Morpheus tipped his hat.
Rabid clicked his cadaverous ankles together and bowed, then gave Jeb a final piercing pink glare before he hopped back through the portal.
“He’s your spy,” Jeb mumbled, feeling like an idiot for not guessing that sooner.
“Yes.”
“So all those times the little bonehead threatened Al, scared her lifeless, that was to uphold the appearance of loyalty to Queen Grenadine?”
“The best spies are the ones that play both sides with equal vigor.”
Jeb studied the swinging lanterns in the distance. The squeaking of metal handles and the shuffling of boots eclipsed the wind’s soft whine. “Okay. Since we’re laying out all our cards—”