She returns her attention to the pans in the sink. “If only I could shut down the portals to and from Wonderland,” she mumbles, more to herself than us. “Then Red and anyone else who wants to hurt Allie would be stranded in the nether-realm with no way back. Just like it should be.”
“As if you would let that happen.” Morpheus replaces his hat. “You speak of us like we’re a different breed. But you’re the same. Fierce … manipulative … and a touch mad. You’re more netherling than human, Alison. You couldn’t handle not having a way back into your heart’s home.”
I slam my hand on the counter to get their attention. “Would someone tell me what’s going on?”
Silent, Mom scrubs at some baked cookie residue with a sponge. Water and soap slosh across the front of her and down the counter.
Morpheus dabs his mouth with the corner of the tablecloth. “Alison’s fooled you into thinking she’s a helpless little rosebud. But it’s all an act, Alyssa. Your mum is ruthless, and she would’ve made a spectacular Red Queen. She wanted that ruby crown, in fact. Came so very close. But she met your father … failed to fulfill the tests. Otherwise, she would never have given up, would never have stayed in the human realm. And you, little luv”—his gaze locks on my face, jewels blackest black—“would ne’er have been born.”
My tongue is thick and heavy like stone. All the questions I need to ask are wedged beneath it. I back into the entryway where the shadows offer solace, putting distance between me and Morpheus’s ugly accusations.
No. Mom can’t have wanted to be queen. That would mean she knows the truth. That everything we talked about the night I got back from Wonderland—the tender moments we shared in the asylum when I told her that our family wasn’t cursed after all—was an act. That would mean she’s been pretending to be clueless.
If that’s the case, what else has she been lying about?
I press a hand to my mouth. Morpheus is trying to come between us. I won’t let him.
“No,” I say. “You …” I point to Morpheus. “You told me I was the first since Alice to dive into the rabbit hole.”
He raises a finger. “Not so. What I said was you were the first since Alice who was cunning enough to discover the rabbit hole on your own and leap inside. I led your mum to the rabbit hole, and she let me carry her down. She wasn’t quite as resourceful as you. I believe that was her downfall, ultimately. That and her complete and utter lack of loyalty.”
Mom scowls in his direction.
I swallow a sob. “But Sister One, in the cemetery that day … she said I was the first to come forward and try for the crown.”
The look that passes between Mom and Morpheus is full of knowing.
“Perhaps because your mum never made it quite that far?” Morpheus offers the answer up as a question. A sure sign he’s covering something.
“It wouldn’t matter,” I respond. “Sister One was keeping track of my progress the whole time I was in Wonderland, because of what she stood to gain if I passed the tests. She would’ve been doing the same with Mom. No.” I direct my next words to my mom. “You’ve never been there. You thought the Liddells were cursed. You didn’t know the truth, didn’t know what the tests were for. Not until I told you. Right, Mom? Right?”
She wipes her hands dry on a dish towel and starts toward the doorway. “Allie,” she says as she steps across the threshold, “let me explain.”
Morpheus follows her, his mouth on a severe slant. “You owe her more than an explanation. You owe her an apology for deceiving her all these years.”
“You’re one to speak of deception.” Mom seethes.
“Oh?” In a graceful flash of movement, Morpheus backs her to the wall without even touching her. Again, he keeps that distance between them, some invisible line he won’t cross. “You let me take the blame for Alyssa being pulled into Wonderland, for the disorder in her life. But it was you who turned your back on your commitments. You made a conscious choice that affected the future of any child you and Tommy-toes would ever have. It’s time you admit it.”
In the dimness, Mom’s platinum hair glows and writhes like slivers of living moonlight—as evocative as the plants in our lunar garden caught in a breeze. I’m paying such close attention to her, I don’t notice what’s happening with Morpheus until he growls.
The moths on his hat’s brim flap, as if resurrected. They lift the hat off his head, and he has to leap for it. The corners of Mom’s lips quiver, fighting a smug smile.
She’s manipulating their wings.
I suppress the scream building in me, unable to deny what’s right in front of my eyes: the magic inside her that I thought had never been tapped is alive, because she’s been to Wonderland … and back.