“Daphne, look at me.” Nash’s voice cuts through the buzz. I do. His eyes are dark with worry, anger, and a touch of something almost fearful. “Stay with us.”
I tilt my head. “I am with you.”
“No. Here.” He taps my wrist, my throat, my chest. “Here.”
I inhale. Exhale. Try to gather myself back inside my skin. The petals lift an inch off the ground, then two, circling my boots in a red spiral.
“Oh no,” I whisper.
Malachi looks down. “That can’t be normal.”
“No kidding.”
Hart swears. Theo’s arm locks around my waist before my knees can buckle or I can accidentally ascend.
The petals whip faster. The torches lining the courtyard flare high enough to lick the night, and somewhere deep in the castle, a bell tolls. Once. Twice. Then over and over.
Genie pales. “You’ve been felt.”
That sounds rude. “By who?” I ask, though I suspect.
“The others.”
The Idols. Of course. Because apparently vaporizing a tyrannical queen into a floral weather event is not something one does quietly. “I guess the traveling actor cover isn’t going to work,” I mutter. Pity. I had plans for Hart in a tutu.
Nash looks toward the castle. “We move. Now.”
Theo scoops me up before I can protest and swings me back onto his horse. I’m too wired to be embarrassed by the ease of it, too jittery to do more than clutch the pommel and try not to vibrate off the saddle.
Hart mounts first, with blood on his boot and rose petals in his hair. Malachi follows, still looking at me like I might split open and reveal a second, worse Daphne. Nash lingers only long enough to catch my gaze.
“What?” I ask.
His jaw flexes. “Next time you decide to change the rules of existence, give me warning.”
“I didn’t have warning.”
“Then steal some.”
That almost makes me smile. Almost. Because the bells keep ringing, the castle doors are opening, and under my skin, power crackles like trapped lightning and I don’t know if it’s fading or building.
Theo gathers the reins. “Hold on.”
I twist to look back at the red petals scattered over the grass. At the place where the Queen of Hearts stood, certain and cruel until I told the story no. And the thought that comes next is not sensible or safe. It is bright and sharp and terrifyingly easy.
If I can do that to a queen… What else can I rewrite?
Chapter Twenty Five
Daphne
We slink into the castle and, by some miracle, avoid all other Idol confrontations. We’re halfway down the hallway when I first notice something’s wrong. Well, something more wrong than usual.
It’s the rabbit. Yes, that rabbit. The one who treats time like a personal vendetta and punctuality like a blood sport. He hops past us at a steady speed. No urgency. Zero panic. He doesn’t scream about time or lateness or impending doom. He just hops,bop bop bop,carrying a teacup while ignoring us.
My gaze tracks him as he crosses the path ahead and disappears through a set of doors that I have no idea what they lead to. “That’s unusual,” I whisper.
“No,” Genie murmurs beside me. “That’s untethered.”
