Alanna stood before me, looking every inch the queen. Her black hair flowed over her shoulder like dark silk. A redand black sequined dress hugged her figure, glittering in the torchlight. She was beautiful—the kind of beauty that lured sailors to their deaths.
But underneath the glamour was pure evil.
I thought of Alice borrowing Archer’s too large tunic. Wearing tights that bunched at her ankles. Hair tangled and wild.
No jewels.
No sequins.
No pretense.
And underneath her garments was a goodness that healed my shattered heart, that unlocked forgotten memories.
God, I missed her. Not the version Alanna would parade into court—cleaned up and broken. The real Alice. The one who laughed at my jokes and challenged me with those fierce eyes. The one who'd given herself to me completely.
My chest ached with it. A physical pain, sharper than anything Alanna's dungeon had dealt me.
But I had to play the game.
“You look lovely, Alanna.”
Each word took a piece of my soul.
She smiled, pleased with herself. “I have something for you.” She disappeared into her chambers and returned holding something familiar. Something that made my heart stop.
My hat.
“I wanted to dye it pink,” she said, turning it over in her hands like a toy. “But the color wouldn’t stick.”
“Because it’s magical.” My voice came out rough. Strained.
“Hmpf.” She thrust it toward me. “Here. You’ll need it for the ceremony.”
I took it from her hands.
The moment my fingers touched the worn fabric, something shifted inside me. Warmth flooded through my chest. The hathummed against my palm—a gentle vibration, like a heartbeat. Like it was welcoming me home.
I clutched it to my chest, breathing in the familiar scent of leather and smoke and something indefinablymine.
This hat had been with me through everything. Through years of running. Through torture and darkness and despair. It held my memories—the ones Alanna had tried to steal. It held my identity—the one she was trying to destroy.
It was the only thing that was still real. The part of me that was still sane.
The part that still belonged to Alice.
She swirled her finger through my hair. “Show me how grateful you are. Kiss me.”
She might as well have asked me to rip out my own heart.
I’d never kissed her. Never wanted to. The thought alone made my gut hurt.
But I had no choice.
I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers. Bile rose in my throat. Her mouth was cold, her lips too soft, too eager. Nothing like Alice's warmth.
I wanted to recoil. Wanted to scrub my mouth until the taste of her was gone.
But I didn't. I played her fucking puppet. Put on the best act of my life. And somewhere in the back of my mind, I felt the madness creeping in—the part of me that wanted to laugh and never stop.
