“My ball went through,” the queen declares with a triumphant smile.
“That’s hardly fair,” I say.
She winks at me. “Fair rulers make weak rulers. As a queen, you make the rules, not follow them.”
The White Rabbit snaps the pages of his book back and forth. “During the match of the dancing diamonds, Your Majesty decreed the points go to the player swinging the flamingo. If a player should switch balls, then they are bound by that creature’s performance.”
“Show me that rule book,” she snaps. The rabbit’s ears curl back and down. He trembles as he makes his way to the queen.
“It’s right here in chapter nine, titled: Rules I Made Up.”
“Then we should tear up the book,” she decides.
The rabbit shakes his head. “Impossible. You said so right here.” He points at the book, and the Red Queen’s eyes dance over the words before she huffs in annoyance. The rabbit hops back to the sidelines.
I switch to my white hedgehog and follow Chess’ glowing gaze. The hedgehogs fly, yelping as we mindlessly bash them around.
Theo snaps out his tail at one point to keep my hedgehog in the game. The genie appears above us and shields his eyes. “Someone holler once this is over.”
“When will my suffering end?” my flamingo laments.
I have no idea how to win this never-ending game of mindlessness.
“Final strike,” the rabbit shouts as my arms ache. Did he hear me?
I take a deep breath, my fingers tightening around the flamingo’s body. This is it—the last shot. If I make it, I win. If I miss… well, I don’t want to think about it.
I swing.
The flamingo lets out an outrageous fart as the hedgehog sails through the air, spinning wildly toward the final arch. My heart leaps into my throat as it nears the goal, but at the last second, the arch moves. My hedgehog bounces off the edge, flipping twice before coming to a stop in the grass. Silence falls.
The Red Queen claps her hands together, beaming. “Oh, what a tragic loss.”
I clench my fists as she steps closer, eyes gleaming with wicked delight. “And now, dear Daphne, your soul belongs to me.”
Theo snarls, Nash growls, and Hart and Malachi lurch toward me. A cold wind whips through the garden, and everyone freezes mid motion. Shadows stretch unnaturally long. My chesttightens like something is tugging on it. A deep, resounding thrum pulses through the air, like the world is laughing at her.
The Red Queen’s smirk falters.
A second voice—smooth, velvety, and far too amused—whispers through the space between us. “Oh, my dear queen… her soul is already spoken for.”
It is? I glance at the frozen knights. I guess so. The shadows swirl, thickening like ink, and a tall figure steps from the darkness, violet eyes glowing like embers. Chess.
The Red Queen stiffens. “Impossible.”
Chess smiles, sharp and knowing. “Now, now. You should know better than to wager for something that isn’t yours to take.” He tilts his head, his grin widening. “And since you tried… I do believe you owe her a rematch of her choosing.”
The queen’s lips press into a thin, furious line. “A rematch?” she repeats.
My pulse pounds as Chess turns to me, still grinning like a villain. He leans in, his voice barely a murmur.
“So, my little chaos... what shall we make her play?”
Chapter
Twenty-Two
“Anight of revelry before we continue our games,” the queen decrees. She waves her hand in the air, unfreezing everyone.
