I blinked as I took in the words. “I don’t have a sister.”
“You do. Her name is Elise. She’s two years your junior and almost your mirror image, save for the hair. Hers was always darker.”
I tilted my head. “How is it you expect me to believe that? Why would you be able to recall my sister when I can’t?” My fists clenched as frustration arose at the black expanse of my pitiful memory.
“The enchanted mist never stripped me of my memories, because my father, Ernie Hatter, worked at the palace before the Red Queen took over. He ordered me to be taken far from home, like you. Many of our parents did that. Unfortunately, like your family, my father died at the Red Queen’s hand.” Hatter peered out over the garden.
“That abandoned tea party you saw on the road, that was my father’s childhood home. After he hid me, he fled there, hoping that the Red Queen wouldn’t follow.” He shook his head. “A fool’s hope. But then again, my father was a hatter by profession as well as by name. As such, he truly was a little mad.
“The Red Queen came for him while he, March Hare, and Dormouse dined with friends. Only March Hare and Dormouse walked away that day—though they were not unscathed either.”
A lump rose in my throat, but I swallowed it back down, determined not to show my sympathy to the person who’d tricked me.
“If your father worked at the palace, then he must have known my parents.”
“He was your mother’s personal hatter.” Henri sniffed, and once again his emerald eyes found mine. “We both spent a lot of time at the castle. I remember you and your sister vividly. And even if I didn’t, I would know that you existed, because I have this.”
From his pocket, he pulled out a locket. He opened it, and two photos stared up at me. One was of a man wearing a flamboyant hat, and the second was of three young children.
The kids, a black-haired boy with burning green eyes, and two girls, one with white-blonde hair, the other with light brown, were all crammed on a throne, smiling mischievously, as if they knew they weren’t supposed to be there. The moment I laid eyes on the smallest child, something broke inside me. And a single precious memory floated into my mind.
Elise ran through ornate corridors—the palace halls probably—as I chased her. Flowers adorned our hair, and we were both laughing. Shadowy onlookers smiled indulgently.
“Elise—” I gulped. “She’s real.”
“Yes, although no one has seen her for thirteen years. Word has it that the Red Queen keeps her imprisoned in the Dark Court.”
I could think of only one reason the Red Queen, a woman who had gone to such extremes to convince others she was the natural ruler, would keep my sister alive.
“The queen wants leverage over me, because she knows I’m not dead.”
Hatter nodded. “I think so too. What’s more, she probably believes that when you return, having your sister will be the bargaining chip she needs to spare her own life.
“Hmm.” My lips pressed together as anger at the queen who’d stolen my life and future began coursing through me. “Too bad for the queen, I’ve never been much of a bargainer.”
Chapter 7
“We’re so sorry for not telling you everything, Alice!” Dee’s high-pitched voice rang out as Hatter led me back into his great room. “But no one trusted us with the job as it was! We had to follow command.”
“Yes! So, so, so sorry!” Dum added, her blue eyes filled with tears.
I grunted, not quite ready to forgive the pixies I’d almost considered friends.
“Oh, Hatter,” Dee turned to Henri. “I’m so relieved that you caught her before somethingterriblehappened.”
“Of course he did,” Dum fluttered her lashes at Henri, and smoothed her dress. Apparently, both pixies were done begging forgiveness. It was back to their regularly scheduled programming of flirting with Hatter. “Even if Alice can run as fast as a bandersnatch, Hatter is anathlete. Our wings couldn’t keep up, but I had faith that you’d catch her, Henri.”
Hatter chuckled. “I don’t know if I’d call myself an athlete. I only work out so I can paint without tiring.” He picked up and righted an easel I’d knocked over when I raced out of the room.
My eyes trailed over all the paintings in the room. There had to be at least twenty. Had he made all of them?
“So modest, too,” Dee purred as she landed on my shoulder.
I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t be jealous, Alice. He’s known me longer and has always had a bit of a thing for me,” Dee said, catching my exasperation.
I scoffed, my tone little more than a whisper. “Right. And when you get married, how is that going to work? You’re not exactly height-compatible.”
