Chapter
Twenty
Thunder rumbles beneath our feet. A guard in shiny, crimson, heart-shaped armor appears, holding a spear across his body. His eyes are glowing red hearts, which would be cute under different circumstances, but here they are highly unsettling.
Hart tucks me behind his back, and the other knights line up beside him. Theo’s tail makes an appearance again, tearing free from his breeches. Wait. Where did he get spare clothes? That’s probably an issue for another time, but now it’s niggling at my mind. His tail snakes around my waist possessively, the pointed end dipping below my belly. I grab hold of it and give it a little smack.
“We discussed this. No part of dragon you will enter any part of me.”
The tail shakes like it’s laughing.
“Is his tail sentient?” Gwyneth wonders.
Theo glances over his shoulder at me with a smirk. “Unlikely,” I decide. “Plus, they are both floof-fondling fiends, so I’m not sure what difference it would make.”
Charming snorts. “They don’t treat a maiden with respect.”
I glare at him. “Don’t speak bunkum poop about my knights when you rely on a spelled shoe to coax a female to your bed.”
He huffs and straightens his jacket. “I’m a reformed prince.”
Gwyneth’s lips twitch and I roll my eyes.
“Where is the girl?” The Red Queen’s voice snaps through the air like a whip as the guards surround us.
I push through Hart and Malachi and stand tall. Her gaze slips down my body like she’s trying to place me. The hat that reappeared on my head seems to do its job of shielding my identity, even though I’m sure I have never met this queen before. It seems like it’s just a ridiculous addition to my attire.
“You will attend my court,” the queen declares, sweeping her long red and black dress behind her as a tall man comes to her side and kisses her hand. His gaze meets mine as he does this. Malachi and Hart step a little closer to me, their shoulders brushing against mine.
“Watch where you poke that spear,” Gwyneth snaps at one of the guards as they usher us forward.
The genie hovers in the air above our heads, my broom hanging out by his side. He’s been silent since the chess game, and I can sense his unease.
“Are we going to the palace?” Eron asks from my pocket.
I give his mirror a little pat. “We are.”
“That’s what we wanted, right?” Charming asks, and I jerk my head in agreement.
“Then why does this feel like a death march to the gallows?” the genie inquires.
I can’t disagree with the unsettling atmosphere. Every so often, I spot Chess’s silhouette appearing around us. The cat is following us, but keeping his presence shielded from the Red Queen.
As we tread cautiously along the serpentine brick path, flanked by towering hedges that loom like sentinels, theominous silhouette of the Red Queen’s castle materializes ahead, a forbidding edifice of onyx and crimson, glinting under a sullen sky. She has embraced her theme, but the garish hues and sharp angles evoke a sense of disquiet in my gut—a lavish excess more unsettling than enchanting.
Each step draws us closer to the thorny maze, the hedges now grotesquely gnarled, twisting at jarring angles as if animated by some unseen force. The air thickens with the heavy scent of roses, clogging my senses and wrapping around my mind like a vise as a dull throb begins behind my temples. I strain to peer through the foliage, eager for a glimpse of the unfolding scene, but the dense greenery offers no reprieve, only a daunting wall of shadows.
As we progress, the atmosphere hardens, and a chorus of whispers unfurls, curling around us like tendrils of fog. Eerie echoes of laughter—ghostly taunts and distant giggles—flutter through the air as if the very shadows are mocking our intrusion into this unsettling domain. Each wave of sound distorts in the oppressive silence, leaving an unsettling chill gnawing in my gut. Then again, it could be that I’m hungry.
“Anyone else have the urge to turn and run?” Malachi mutters.
There’s a chorus of agreement from our group. Great, at least we are all freaked out together.
“My dragon is fighting me hard,” Theo informs us through gritted teeth.
What this situation does not need is a wild dragon on the loose.
“Hart, swap places with Theo,” Nash instructs.
