“What gave it away?” I ask, deadpan. My feet lift off the ground, and I’m dumped on the throne like a sack of potatoes.
The White Rabbit hops around the edge. “This is a catastrophe! A disaster! The queen cannot move freely! She is bound by the rules of the game!”
I squirm in my seat, but to no avail. Wait, what if I have to poop? Why does no one think of these things but me?
“We need to get her out, and fast,” Nash says.
“But she’s a queen now,” Theo mutters. “Which means…”
“We have to play the game,” Gwyneth finishes.
The mist thickens around us, and across the board, a dark figure rises from the opposing throne. A queen wreathed in shadows, her crimson lips curling into a delighted smirk.
The Red Queen.
“Bunkum poop on a stick,” I mutter.
She tilts her head and laughs. “Shall we begin?”
Chapter
Nineteen
Ishake my head and grip the arms of the throne. “This was an accident. I don’t even know how to play.”
The Red Queen slices her hand through the air. “No one can leave once the game has begun. You challenged me when you stepped on the board, and now I am answering your call. Don’t insult me by quitting.”
I glance at my companions and find the rabbit skimming through a book. Where did that come from? And more importantly, why does he feel this is the appropriate time to immerse himself in a story? Is it his coping mechanism?
The chess board expands, nudging everyone’s feet and making them jump back.
“Strategy?” Theo asks Nash.
“Are they the same rules?” Nash checks with the rabbit.
The rabbit shakes his head. “No, but the board pieces move in the same patterns.”
“Then how does it differ?” Hart asks.
The rabbit’s gaze meets mine. “When a piece meets another, they go into battle. The victor remains on the board, while the other is removed.”
That doesn’t sound too bad. Being removed isn’t dead.
Malachi grimaces. “How is a victor declared?”
The Red Queen chuckles. “When the other is no longer breathing, of course. Occasionally, I leave them alive if we are short of a beheading.”
Wow. Violet eyes appear above her head and wink at me. That damn cat. I’m still not clear if he’s friend or foe.
A pawn shifts forward in front of the Red Queen. We’ve begun, and I have no idea what I’m doing.
“What now?” I shout as my hands grip the arms of the throne until the whites of my knuckles show.
“Yes, please advise the poor girl,” the Red Queen coaxes as she leans forward in her matching throne.
“Move the pawn second from the end on your left two spaces forward,” Nash instructs.
The rabbit’s head snaps up, and he frowns. An invisible force sweeps Nash off his feet, skidding him across the board and tossing him onto the throne beside me. A matching crown drops onto his head.
