Once Upon A Kiss: Seventeen Romantic Faerie Tales

by Alethea Kontis

  Alice toyed with the handle of the teacup nearest her, turning over everything he’d said in her mind. It all sounded like a wild fantasy one would have after too much drink or eating strange mushrooms. Far too outlandish to be real, to be believed. And yet there was no humor in Jaspar’s voice, no hint that he was having her on. In fact…

  Jaspar lifted his teacup with shaking hands. For the first time, Alice noticed how haggard his handsome face had become. The strong lines of his cheekbones stood out too starkly, the veins in his temples throbbing. His handsome reddish-brown skin was pale—not compared to her, of course, but compared to how he’d looked even a week ago. Guilt bit into Alice as she started to wonder how much of his reputation was due to the loss of his…beast.

  “Mr. Wellington?” she asked quietly. “If I might be so rude as to ask…what effect does it have on you to have your tiger…” She didn’t know how to finish the thought. Wandering? Off its leash?

  “Gone,” he whispered. He closed his eyes. “I am missing half of myself. I was born a Caspian. I have always had my tiger, we have always been in harmony. Now it is gone, and I am alone in my body. Alone in our body.” He hesitated, then swallowed hard. “I have been human for nearly a year now. I have never gone so long without changing form, never been so…trapped. It’s quite…” He opened his eyes, held her gaze with uncomfortable intensity. “Maddening.”

  Alice shifted in her seat, looking away as the weight of his stare suddenly became too much. She grabbed a teacup and poured herself a drink, noting with dismay that her hands were shaking now, trembling with the emotional turmoil that came only from realizing one had made a terrible mistake.

  “I misjudged you.”

  She’d meant to have a conversation with herself first, make herself admit how wrong she’d been. But he was the one she’d wronged, the one she’d thought poorly of based on a misconception—talked about behind his back. He was due an apology. And he had a right to know why.

  He didn’t say anything, just looked into his teacup.

  “Because you’re both cracked.”

  The witch’s words came back to her, and she took a deep, slow breath. “I was afraid,” she whispered.

  He glanced up, but still didn’t speak. Just held her gaze with those mesmerizing green eyes, waiting for her to continue.

  “I thought I was deranged.” She cleared her throat, then pointed at the small cat still having at the boat of cream. “I saw things that no one else could see. I didn’t know I was a…summoner.” The word felt strange on her tongue, but in an odd way it also felt…right. “Everyone said you were touched, and you did seem…off.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted, but there was no humor in it. “Yes, I imagine I do.”

  “But I understand why now. Of course I understand.” She reached across the table and laid her hand in the center in silent offering. “I’m so sorry.”

  He leaned forward to take her hand, forgiving her far more easily than she had any right for him to. “I imagine it must have been unsettling to be pursued by the Mad Hatter,” he admitted.

  A blush burned her cheeks at his use of the name that she herself had used to describe him. He chuckled.

  “Yes, I’ve heard the whispers. If I might confess, I don’t actually mind. It’s a rather interesting name, anyway.”

  He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, and a thrill ran down her spine. This time she didn’t fight it, didn’t ignore it. The blush in her cheeks grew hotter.

  Something flashed in his eyes, a knowledge of the effect he had on her. She cleared her throat and looked away as she gently pulled her hand from his grip.

  “I am not mad, and you are not mad,” she murmured. She glanced around. “But this place is most definitely mad.”

  “It is the astral plane.” Jaspar’s voice was deeper now, somehow more masculine after the fleeting moment they’d shared. “It is easily manipulated by those who understand its nature.”

  Alice leaned back in her seat, staring at a random spot on the hectic tea table. The astral plane. Eidolon. A summoner. In her wildest dreams, she never could have come up with such…wonder.

  “How is your book coming, if I might be so bold as to ask?” Jaspar tapped his spoon against the edge of his teacup, then hesitated. Without looking away from Alice, he reached for the sugar bowl with his free hand and added another generous spoonful of sugar.

  The mention of her book lifted Alice’s gaze from the table, but she couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’d forgotten I told you about that.”

  “I was ever so pleased you confided in me,” Jaspar said earnestly. “Your ideas sounded wonderful.”

  She met his gaze then, but found nothing but sincerity in his face. Picking at the tablecloth with a fingernail, she cleared her throat. “I haven’t looked at it in some time. I…” She pressed her lips together, then forced herself to go on. “I worried that it was my constant daydreaming for my stories that was making me see things.”

  Jaspar paused with his teacup just in front of his lips, a dark curl falling over one eye. “You really believed you were losing your mind.”

  “Wouldn’t you?” Alice demanded. She pointed at the cat. “No one else could see it. At first I thought they were putting me on. I insisted and got angry, and they—”

  “Laughed at you?”

  Her mouth clamped shut, guilt eating the rest of her protest. Jaspar tilted his head, giving her a crooked smile. The lock of hair fell away from his eyes, and once again Alice found herself mesmerized by the vibrant green of his gaze, the sparkle that seemed to dance in them when he smiled.

  “You don’t have to look so guilty,” he said gently. He shrugged one shoulder and took a sip of his tea. “I imagine I must seem quite mad to everyone.” A furrow appeared in his brow. “I suppose it isn’t entirely unlikely that I am out of my mind. I don’t know of any others of my kind who have been cut off from their beasts as I have. Certainly not for this long.”

  He put his cup down and looked side to side, then behind him. Alice’s heart clenched as he looked up, forward, and every which way, obviously searching for some sign of his tiger.

  “I wasted time, I think,” she said, trying to coax his mind away from his loss, ease the lines deepening around his eyes.

  “I’m sorry?”

  It took a visible effort for him to look at her again, to give up his search. Alice smiled, and his attention settled on her more firmly.

  “I was so afraid that I was cracked, and you were cracked, that to be together would…seal our fate, so to speak.” She waved a hand, embarrassed at how silly it all sounded now that she was saying it out loud. “I can’t help but feel that I wasted time we could have spent talking more about your travels.” Her smile widened, genuine pleasure making her lean forward. “Your experiences were very inspiring, you know. I always went home from a visit with you bursting with new ideas for my own stories.”

  That made him smile, chasing some of the shadows from his face. “Exploring has always been my passion. I’m a writer too, of sorts. It’s always been my dream to write guides for others of my kind, and even other travelers. Manuals about the places and creatures on the astral plane.” He held her gaze, and there was more weight to his look now, a seriousness that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “I would love to take you with me on my travels sometime. There’s a great deal I want to show you.”

  Alice’s heart leapt in her chest, her pulse suddenly racing as more heat flowed into her cheeks. She opened her mouth before she knew what she was going to say.

  A bloodcurdling scream cut her off. Alice knocked over the teacup with her hand, sloshing tea all over the table and sending the delicate ceramic onto its saucer with a sharp clatter. More screams followed, a horrifying cacophony of sound that twisted her stomach and made her nerves feel as though they were trying to crawl out of her skin.

  “Go,” the cat urged her, eyes shining as it looked at her over the lip of the boat of cream. “Go, save th
em.”

  She was on her feet before she realized it, already heading in the direction of those horrible sounds.

  The scenery shifted around her as she left Jaspar and the tea party behind. She wasn’t certain if she was running, or if the ground was spinning beneath her, hurling her forward, or perhaps backward. A garden rose in front of her, neatly contained within a pristine hedge made up of green, heart-shaped leaves. Small trees dotted the inside of the garden, no more than twice her size in height, but full and covered with shining white blooms. More screams erupted in the distance, and she was certain now that they were coming from that garden.

  Her peripheral vision caught spinning, blurred movement to either side of her, threatening to cast her into vertigo if she took her eyes off her goal. She ran faster.

  Suddenly she was in the garden. Her heart leapt into her throat as she nearly collided with a man wielding a spear, his head covered in a black hood. He wore a white tunic embroidered with a strange pattern of red blobs that Alice couldn’t quite make out. As she skidded to a stop and nearly fell backward onto the ground, the man thrust his spear toward the tree.

  Another bloodcurdling scream rang out, and one of the white blooms erupted in red. The scent of copper filled the air, and Alice’s stomach turned as she realized it was blood. The blooms were alive. And bleeding.

  “Stop that!” she shouted. “You’re hurting them!”

  Something soft caressed the side of her neck, pressing against her jaw. The kitten shoved its head against her and curled its body around her as it gripped her shoulder with its tiny claws. “You need a weapon.”

  Yes, she needed a weapon. She cast her eyes around for something she could use to defend herself with, could defend the strange screaming blossoms with.

  “It is the astral plane. It is easily manipulated by those who understand its nature.”

  I need a sword.

  It was a desperate attempt, a slice of delirium that made her wish for something to magically appear. But her delirium was rewarded when her hand fell, dragged down by sudden weight. She stared at her hand and gaped at the shining silver sword closed tightly in her fist. The blade was almost as long as her leg, but slim and lighter than it looked. For a moment shock held her immobile, but another chorus of screams from the strange flowers hurled her into motion.

  “I said stop it this instant,” she growled. She hefted the sword in warning.

  The kitten purred in satisfaction, but she ignored it. Now that she was paying attention, she noted that there were three men holding spears, jabbing at the screaming flowers. The one closest to her planted the handle of his weapon on the ground and faced her with a scowl.

  “Who are you?” he demanded, swiping at his bulbous nose with his free hand.

  “I’m the one that’s going to stab you if you don’t stop.” Alice glanced from the men to the flowers, allowing herself a moment to acknowledge she’d come rushing to the rescue of plants. At the urging of a talking kitten. No time for hysterics now. Later, she promised herself. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to save our lives,” one of the other men snapped. He raised an arm as big as Alice’s thigh and gestured at the roses. “The queen is coming, and if she sees white roses, she’ll see red!”

  That makes no sense. Alice brushed away that thought and tightened her grip on her weapon. “They’re screaming.”

  “You’d rather hear us scream?” the third man grumbled. “The queen is not a tolerant woman. She wanted red roses, and red roses she’ll get!” He raised his spear, narrowing his eyes on a white bloom trembling amidst the leaves.

  Alice gritted her teeth and hefted the sword, opening her mouth to give the man one last warning.

  A huge feline face appeared in the air before her, orange and white fur providing a nest for black-lined emerald eyes. The tiger held Alice’s gaze as the rest of its body slowly emerged into existence, hovering in midair. “Get rid of that blade,” it whispered. “Now, quickly!”

  A strangled cry erupted behind Alice before she could react. The Hatter, Jaspar, hurtled past her, snatching the sword from her grip as he launched himself at the tiger. The beast hissed and bobbed out of the way, swirling in midair like an angry swarm of bees. Jaspar swung the blade in a blinding flash of silver, chopping at the air between them, slashing at something only he could see.

  A woman’s voice boomed over the clearing. “Drop your weapon!”

  The men that had been slaughtering the white roses released their spears and hurled themselves face first to the ground. Their fingers curled into the grass as if they needed something to hold on to, and not one of them dared to look up at the owner of that large voice.

  A woman stormed into the garden. She was dressed all in red, except for the pitch-black expression on her face. Her gown was the color of blood, embroidered with brilliant white threads that created a face on her bodice, the visage of a stern-looking woman. Rubies and diamonds glittered from her wrists and skirts, and a stark white jabar circled her neck. A thin gold crown clung to her red hair, wicked points so sharp that it was more a weapon than a symbol of royalty.

  Glittering black eyes scanned the gardens, taking in the entire scene with a dark rage. Her attention settled with almost physical weight on Jaspar and the sword, flicking between him and the tiger. Jaspar didn’t seem to have heard her, his entire focus on the tiger.

  “Have to cut the cord,” he muttered.

  Alice strained her eyes, trying to study the air between him and the tiger, searching for the silver cord, but she saw nothing. She didn’t have time to try any longer, to ask Jaspar where it was, how he could see it.

  Without a word, the woman in red grabbed something at her side and hurled it through the air at Jaspar. The small ax spun as it hurtled straight for him with deadly intent, the blade glinting with unforgiving light.

  Alice screamed and leapt for Jaspar, knocking him to the ground a split second before the weapon sailed through the space his head had occupied just a moment ago. Her heart nearly exploded with panic, her entire body going limp as she assured herself he was still whole and unharmed.

  The woman screamed a cry of pure fury. “Arrest him!” she bellowed.

  Guards appeared from nowhere, pouring around her like a red tide of black-and-white-clad executioners brandishing spears. They surrounded Alice and Jaspar, weapons ready, sharp points shining in the sunlight. The queen stood behind them, but managed to seem larger, more imposing than any armed soldier.

  Her eyes glittered as she watched Alice and Jaspar like a cruel child watching a wingless fly. “No one beheads a creature in my kingdom but me. That cat is mine—every creature in this kingdom is mine.” She threw a hand into the air. “Off with his head!”

  “No!”

  Alice crawled up Jaspar’s body, curling around him as if she could protect him. He struggled beneath her, tried to flip them so it was he who would take the brunt of an attack, but she stubbornly refused to be moved. With her weight centered higher on his body, he couldn’t get the leverage he needed to force her off him. Teeth clenched, she looked around for the tiger, the crazed beast who had caused all this trouble. As she searched, she spoke to the bloodthirsty monarch.

  “No, he wasn’t trying to cut off its head! He was trying to cut the silver cord!”

  Silver cord.

  Alice froze. The world went quiet, everyone and everything stilling in one moment of perfect clarity. She looked down at Jaspar. There, just to the right of his left temple. The silver hair that had so mesmerized her, the strange quirk that had fascinated her so.

  Pull it.

  The urge came from nowhere, but it was the most powerful compulsion Alice had ever felt. The world exploded back into sound, into movement. Guards grabbed her by the shoulders, dragging her off Jaspar. She flailed against them, and reached for his curls, but even as she pulled forward, she was pulled away. Her fingertips brushed the silver strand and her heart lurched. With every ounce of strength she had in her,
she narrowed her eyes and lunged again. Her fingers pinched the hair and she jerked it free with a shout of triumph.

  A tiger roared. The sound drew shouts from the guards, a scream of fury from the queen, but the wild feline cry rolled over the garden, drowning out every other sound. It was deafening, pounding down on them all until Alice could feel it vibrating her bones. She blinked, and found herself on her back looking up at the sky. She frowned, looked for Jaspar.

  There. A few feet away she saw him standing with his back bowed, his fingers curled into claws. The veins in his neck bulged and he thrashed his head from side to side. His hat was long gone, his black hair a wild mane of silken curls. His suit jacket tore down the back in a jagged line, revealing a similarly ruined shirt and a tempting line of bare, cinnamon-colored skin.

  She raised a hand, driven to reach for him, to touch that strip of warm flesh, feel what was happening, as if she had any chance of helping him. His head jerked to the side and his eyes met hers. Emerald green shone at her, irises glistening, piercing her across the distance, his presence somehow swelling, pressing against her as if he were much closer, as if there was no daylight between them.

  A gasp burst from her lips, her fingers closing into a fist, trying to hold on to something that wasn’t there. His eyes widened, nostrils flaring as he took a shaking step toward her. His body pitched to the side and he threw back his head, another roar pouring from his body. Black lines raced over his skin, tracing elegant stripes over his flesh. He groped at what remained of his clothes and tore them off as if fighting free of restraints that had held him prisoner for far too long.

  Alice lunged to her feet. She didn’t know what she was doing, what possessed her, but suddenly she needed to go to him—now. Something was happening, something…

  He roared again, and his mouth opened wider than before. Fear raced down her nerves like a sudden frost, and she choked back a gasp at the long, sharp fangs Jaspar gnashed as he writhed on his feet. She fell back a step, her heart in her throat, and her foot found empty air. Vertigo took her as she tumbled into the same chaotic fall into nothingness that had brought her to the astral plane. An image of Jaspar followed her, the impression of a half-man, half-beast that left her frightened…and fascinated.