by Eva Chase
As a chill washed over my skin, my mind darted back to the guard hustling away. To the Queen’s harsh shout while the other guards had battered at the door. Break it! Break it now!
She hadn’t been talking about the door.
Lyssa recoiled from the pieces as if afraid of stepping on them, and then froze. A pained laugh spilled out of her.
“It doesn’t matter if I touch them,” she said. “Time is freed. The mirror will never reset. It’s just broken.”
That was true. My throat constricted, but underneath my dismay, a tendril of relief unfurled.
I got to keep her, without the guilt—other than the guilt that thought sent prickling through me.
I shoved those conflicting emotions away as I moved to her side and touched her arm.
“Lyssa, there are other looking-glasses.”
“Any we have any chance of reaching tonight?”
“No,” I had to admit.
“Okay. It’s okay.” She rubbed her hands over her face. A breath trembled out of her. Then she drew herself up as determined and regal as a queen—the kind of queen we should have had. She even managed a wry smile. “I guess my next time here is happening right now.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lyssa
Somehow or other, we all ended up in a little rooftop garden I hadn’t known existed at the top of the Tower. The city’s lights created a cloud-like haze beneath us, and stars I’d never seen before glittered across the vast expanse of the sky over our heads. No sound rose that high except the whisper of the breeze through the plots of flowers.
I sprawled on the soft grass, leaning against Theo’s side with his arm tucked around my waist, absorbing his warmth. Hatter sat nearby, stripping the leaves from a daffodil he’d plucked, his expression pensive. Chess lolled on his back as he gazed up at the night sky.
“One more predictable day,” he said. “After that, we won’t be able to count on sunny blue skies anymore. We might even get seasons again. I believe we used to have seasons. Maybe it’ll rain—I can’t wait.”
A giggle tickled out of my throat. “You’ll probably get tired of clouds and rain pretty quickly.”
Chess shook his head. “Not a chance. I will savor every shadow and every drop. Especially the ones that dampen the helms of the Hearts’ Guard.” He grinned.
That remark made me shiver. “The Queen of Hearts couldn’t capture time all over again, could she?”
Theo’s thumb stroked over my hip with a reassuring pressure. “Definitely not. It won’t be tricked like that more than once.”
“Lands only know what new act of tyranny she’ll come up with next,” Hatter muttered.
I nudged him with my foot. “Let’s not talk about that right now, okay?”
He glanced up, regret stark in his gaze. “I’m sorry.”
He wasn’t just talking about the comment. He meant that I was stuck here at all. I swallowed hard. But the truth was, when I’d seen the shattered mess of the mirror, something in me had been a little… glad.
The choice had been taken away from me. And maybe this was the choice I’d have wanted to make after all, if I’d let myself think just about what would make me happy and not how everyone back home might react. Based on how time had passed during my last two visits, I’d have a couple weeks here before Melody expected to hear from me.
A little more time to see how wonderful this land could be as we pushed back against the Queen. A little more time to explore the weird but exhilarating emotions these three guys had stirred up in me.
Which meant it might be a good thing to make sure we were all on the same page.
I lifted my head, reaching to tilt Theo’s mouth toward me. Without a second’s hesitation, he claimed my lips. His kiss flooded me with warmth, and a quiver of excitement raced through my chest, knowing the other two were watching us. Knowing that if I had my way, next it’d be Theo watching me with them.
As I drew back from the White Knight, Hatter swallowed audibly. I shifted onto my knees and reached for him. A flicker of surprise passed through his eyes, and then he was moving to meet me, tugging me even closer as his mouth found mine.
Theo’s hand trailed up my back as Hatter parted my lips with his tongue, and it was a miracle I didn’t melt into a puddle of goo right then. Ecstatic goo.
When Hatter released me, my cheeks were flushed, my pulse thrumming through my body. I turned to face Chess. He was still stretched casually on his back, his head propped on one arm as he took in our PDA. I still couldn’t read his expression well enough to know for sure whether he wanted to be part of it. But his gaze didn’t leave mine as I scooted closer, stopping just shy of touching his side.
Maybe I shouldn’t be trying to decipher his reaction. I could simply own mine, and let him do with it what he would.
“Chess… I want you too,” I said, my cheeks flaring as the words came out.
Chess hesitated for the space of a heartbeat, long enough that I was already bracing against my disappointment when that beautiful grin stretched across his face.
“Then come have me, lovely,” he said in his lilting voice.
My pulse skipped a beat. I leaned over him, and he pushed himself up a little higher, sliding his fingers into my hair as our lips met. His kiss was gentle yet intoxicating, as if I were drinking down a glass of sweet liqueur. When I eased back, I’d lost my breath.
They were all mine, if only just for this moment. I didn’t know how I’d gotten so freaking lucky.
I settled down onto the grass between them, not wanting or needing anything more than those kisses right now. My head was getting fuzzy with exhaustion. Just lounging there surrounded by the three most fascinating men I’d ever met was a thrill in itself.
I should have been content to leave things there for the night, but I was still Lyssa Tenniel, Miss Organized and Prepared. When the question started niggling at me, I knew it wasn’t going to back down until I got an answer. So I had to glance over at Theo and ask, “Where exactly are these other looking-glasses, and how hard is it going to be for me to get to one?”
Theo grimaced. “I actually only know of one with any certainty,” he said. “And the last I knew of it, the Queen was keeping it in her private chambers, which are always tightly guarded.”
His words sank in slowly. “The Queen of Hearts?” I said.
“That would be the one.”
Oh, fuck.
* * *
When the Queen of Hearts retaliates viciously and earth-shaking secrets are revealed, how will Lyssa and her men hold on to hope—and each other? Find out in Wrathful Wonderland, the second book in the Looking-Glass Curse trilogy. Get it now!
If you’re a fan of reverse harem paranormal romance, why not check out Eva’s new series, The Witch’s Consorts? You can grab the prequel story FREE here!
Hatter’s Favorite Honey-Pineapple-Coriander Scones
(Recipe makes approximately 8 scones)
Ingredients:
2 cups flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 cup butter, cubed
3/4 cup crushed pineapple (for lighter scones, use 1/2 cup)
2 tablespoons fresh cilantro, chopped
1/2 teaspoon ground coriander
2 tablespoons honey
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup milk, plus more for brushing on top
Preheat the oven to 425° F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
Combine flour and baking powder in a mixing bowl. Using your fingers, massage in the butter until the mixture looks like fine crumbs.
Stir in the pineapple, cilantro, coriander, honey, and salt. Add the milk a little at a time, stirring until the dough is soft. You might not need all of the milk.
Shape the dough into balls about 2 inches thick and roll them on a floured surface. Place on the baking sheet and flatten to about 1 inch. Brush the tops lightly with milk.
Bake for 15 to 20 minutes until golden brown. Let sit 10 minutes
before serving.
Next in the Looking-Glass Curse trilogy
Wrathful Wonderland (The Looking-Glass Curse #2)
Four ways to piss off the Queen of Hearts:
Have a name that sounds kind of like Alice.
Change the decor in her favorite club.
Destroy the magic she's used to hold Wonderland in her cruel grasp.
Fail to offer your head in penance.
I didn't come to this bizarre, intoxicating place looking for trouble, but I've sure as hell found it. As the Queen retaliates viciously against the Spades' rebellion, it's up to me and the three alluring men I've allied with to save Wonderland before so many innocents lose their heads.
Easier said than done. With Hatter tapping into his inner Mad, Chess pulling a vanishing act, and the White Knight revealing secrets darker than I could have imagined, everything I counted on here has turned upside down. When the swords come out, will I even be able to save myself?
Get it now!
Consort of Secrets excerpt
Want to get a taste of Consort of Secrets, my gothic-flavored witchy reverse harem paranormal romance? Enjoy the first chapter below…
CONSORT OF SECRETS
1
Rose
To a stranger, Hallowell Manor would have looked like the kind of place where dark deeds happened. You know: skeletons bricked up behind the tall foreboding walls. A madman prowling in the attic beneath the steeply sloped roof. Cheating lovers pushed from the turrets’ arched windows to their death. Although as far as I knew none of those things had actually happened there.
Let’s just say the house had a lot of character.
My father pushed the control on the Bentley’s dash, and the automated gate whirred shut behind us. The car turned along the drive through the falling twilight. As the house loomed over us, my heart lifted with anticipation.
I wasn’t a stranger, and to me this place was home. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t set foot on our country estate in more than eleven years. The manor and the massive property around it had set the stage for my fondest childhood memories. Through all that time in Portland, through my studies and the dinner parties and the strolls through fenced back gardens, part of me had always been waiting for the moment when I’d return here.
“That is an eyeful and a half, now isn’t it?” Philomena said in her lilting British accent. She craned her neck as she peered out the window. “Just ripe for adventure.”
“I’m supposed to be settling back in, not stirring up trouble,” I said.
“Oh, I’m sure we can find time enough for both, Rose.” She shot me the classic Phil expression: lips curved, brows lightly arched, brown eyes sparkling with mischief.
Dad parked by the garage. A couple of the staff were already hustling over to retrieve the few pieces of luggage we’d brought with us instead of sending it ahead. My stepmother let out a slow breath, her pale blue gaze fixed on the house.
“Well, here we are,” she said. Her tone was so dry I couldn’t tell whether she was expressing relief or trepidation.
I found it safest to care about Celestine’s feelings about as little as she cared about mine—which was essentially not at all. Ignoring her comment, I pushed open the door and stepped out onto the pavement. The cool breeze of the early spring evening teased through my hair. I pushed the black tumble of those locks back over my shoulders and drank in the lush green scents of home.
The tang of fresh paint reached my nose. The staff must have been touching up the outer buildings to prepare for our arrival. The once-green slats of the garage walls now glowered a deep maroon.
Something deep in my chest twisted. The change jarred with my memories. But it couldn’t stop the image from rising up in my head of the last time I’d seen the boys, standing just a few paces from where I stood now, watching a car very much like this one carry me away.
I jerked my gaze away before Dad or Celestine could notice me looking. It was the company I’d been keeping all those years ago that had prompted our move to the city. Better if neither my father nor my stepmother suspected how much those memories still meant to me.
Dad typed a quick message into his phone and tucked it into his slacks pocket. Probably letting one of the many people he did business with know he’d be available for conversation and negotiations within the hour. Celestine smoothed her hand over her sleek silver-blond bob and wrapped her slender fingers around his. He directed a quick but warm smile over his shoulder at me, and we started toward the house.
“Good Lord, it looks even bigger from out here,” Philomena said, clutching her expansive skirts with one gloved hand while she braced the back of the other against her forehead. She stared up at the manor. “Are you absolutely sure you didn’t forget to tell me you’re a duchess or a marchioness or some such?”
I swallowed a laugh. “I promise, I’m nothing by regular standards. In witching society, I guess we’re about on the level of a viscount?”
“Hmm.” She glanced at Dad. “I hope you’ll forgive me for saying I have always thought your father would look rather tempting in a proper tailcoat and cravat.”
“Ugh. I’ll forgive you if you promise to never mention finding him ‘tempting’ ever again.”
Philomena just smirked at me. It really was a good thing she was only a figment of my imagination and not someone Dad could actually overhear.
Phil’s insatiable exuberance had practically made her leap out of the book she starred in during the gazillion times I’d read it in the last seven years. I hugely admired her habit of speaking her mind unfiltered. But it wouldn’t have gone over any better in my society than it should have in hers, if her regency romance had been particularly true-to-reality.
Trust me, if you’d met the company I’d had in Portland, you wouldn’t blame me for plucking my best friend out of the pages of my favorite novel instead. The girls from the witching families around the city had all been as alternately judgmental and fawning as my older stepsisters. As far as they’d been concerned, I was either a country rube to look down on or a Hallowell they should suck up to. Sometimes both at the same time, which had thrown more than one of them for a loop.
But they didn’t matter now. I was home.
The staff had opened up the manor’s broad front door. Golden light spilled down over the front steps. My gaze caught on the tiny crack that ran through the second from the bottom.
How many times, long ago, had I sat there and traced my finger along that spidery line? A voice that wasn’t Philomena’s swam up in my head from the past. Are those stairs a lot more fascinating than they look, or do you figure you’d like to come have some real fun?
My fingers curled toward the sleeve of my sweater. I had one of my ribbons wrapped around my left wrist, like always. “Rose’s little fashion trend,” my stepsisters had liked to comment with a giggle.
We stepped into the grand front hall. The porters hefted our luggage up the wide, velvet-carpeted staircase to the second floor. The cherry wood of the banisters and the wall paneling gleamed.
“I hope the journey was smooth, Master and Lady Hallowell,” our estate manager, Meredith, said, welcoming us in. She’d come ahead with the rest of the key staff that moved with the family when we relocated from one property to another. They’d have spent all day setting the house in order for our arrival.
“And for Rosalind as well,” she added with a quick wink. Now with only a few streaks of gray left in her white, braided hair, Meredith had been with the Hallowells for generations. You could say she’d raised me alongside my father.
My stepmother considered the grand front hall and sniffed. “I don’t like to see a painting askew the moment I step inside,” she said in the icy voice she usually used when speaking to Meredith.
She glanced around to confirm none of the unsparked staff were nearby and motioned the gold-framed artwork that had provoked her displeasure. The gesture turned into a quick flick of magic. The painting shifted straight without
so much as a touch.
Celestine looked at Meredith with a slight arch of her eyebrows, as if to remind the manager that a lesser witch like her couldn’t afford to use her own magic that flippantly. “I hope the rest of the house is in better shape. Double-check the main floor rooms, will you?”
The corners of Meredith’s mouth tightened only a smidge. “Yes, Lady Hallowell.” Her gaze slid past my stepmother to my father, the man she considered her real employer. He nodded, but he gave her a wry smile at the same time as if to apologize.
As Meredith bustled away, a sallow, gangly figure appeared at the top of the staircase. “I’ve seen to it that all your office materials are as they should be, Lady Hallowell,” Douglas, my stepmother’s primary assistant, called down.
“Excellent,” Celestine said with a wave to dismiss him.
From the depths of the house, the chime of our ancient grandfather clock rang out. Seven o’clock. A lump lodged in my throat. The familiar smell of the manor, wood polish and aged plaster, had drifted all around me, but it only made the ache in my chest deepen.
This place was home, but it felt abruptly empty.
“From what I understand, your Derek plans to arrive tomorrow morning,” my stepmother said to me. “You did pack some of your nicer clothes, didn’t you, Rosalind?”
“I did,” I said without looking at her. Although I wasn’t sure why it mattered. Derek was my Derek because he’d already agreed to the betrothal. In two months he’d become both my husband and my consort in magic. Spending this time on the Hallowell estate together was only meant to give us a grounding for that bond, the final step before the official ceremony we were already committed to. I couldn’t imagine how horrible an outfit he’d have to see me in to back out now.