Gareth chuckled. "Still jealous, I see."
"I'm not jealous." It wasn't like he wanted Hatter to be his, despite what others might believe, they were friends, practically brothers. Nothing romantic had ever blossomed between them. Marchy simply didn't like change. Hated it. Too much had changed lately. Case in point: Gareth was the new Red King, ordering them about. It was too much.
Too, too much and far too soon.
"If you say so." Gareth didn't sound convinced as he poked through a basket of what appeared to be marbles or rocks of some sort that flashed in the light. "What you need is a woman of your own, and then it won't bother you anymore," he said, as if he didn't know what Marchy had been up to earlier. It wasn't a huge secret amongst their circle of acquaintances. Gareth and Cadence weren't cruel enough to entrap him with it, thankfully.
"No, thank you. Hawthorn and I don't need a woman hanging about our personal space, touching our belongings and moving them around. I like women well enough—they are lovely, exquisite creatures—but they are far better enjoyed in short spurts." One of his ears twitched.
Gareth broke into guffaws.
"What?" Marchy snapped.
When the king could do no more than plop onto his backside in the middle of the room and laugh, Marchy took a step forward to see if he'd come down with the same affliction he had himself—the one where he was prone to laugh uncontrollably for any given length of time without preamble. The side effect of living in Wonderland was that the residents became affected by some sort of madness if they were not at ease with themselves over a long period of time. Hatter had his rhymes and riddles. Marchy laughed for no apparent reason. As Hatter improved, Marchy's condition grew worse.
His musings were interrupted when Hawthorn ran into the room from the open doorway, paused to regard Gareth, and then turned toward the antechambers they had to clear out after this one. Without further hesitation, the little creature tore off into one of the rooms. "I better go after him so we don't crush him whilst moving crates."
Gareth waved him off, slowly gaining control over his laughter. Marchy wasn't sure what to think about it. If the king was starting to suffer from the same affliction he did, did that mean there was trouble with Cadence? He had an annoying suspicion that it had been his statement about women that had overly amused the king. Why did everyone find his dislike of change absurd? It would be far easier if everyone would leave him, and his things, alone. And here he was…touching other people's personal belongings. Against his better judgment, but still. His mood soured even more.
Marchy paused and regarded the piles of forgotten items the former Red Queen had deposited here when they no longer held her fancy. Such a waste. Yet, there was no sign of Hawthorn. Where had that dormouse gone? And even worse, where did his sword-wielding accomplice, Squirrelpoleon, run off to if Hawthorn had come down here? If that borogove jumped out to startle him, well, it would serve him right to get swatted out of reflex.
"Hawthorn?" Marchy stepped through another entryway that opened into a small corridor and ended at a door that had seen better days. A hole in the bottom panels was big enough for a rodent to pass through.
Marchy tried the knob, but the door didn't budge. He was sure, on their way down here, Gareth had said all the rooms were open. Mayhap this one wasn't to be cleared? He tried again and realized the lock wasn't the issue. The wood was old and warped, and part of the top edge was stuck. This time, when he turned the knob, he also pushed down. The wood gave, and the door opened wide as Marchy stepped inside, glancing around.
A single stream of sunlight lit the area from a slit in the stone that allowed the light in to reflect off a grand, ornate, full-length mirror with a silver and gold frame in dire need of a good polish. Thorny vines from rose bushes in the gardens outside had climbed in through the window slit ages ago, but they weren't currently in bloom along the walls. Hawthorn sat on his haunches in the middle of the dusty floor, transfixed by the mirror.
"Did you suddenly discover your own reflection?"
The dormouse paid him no mind. How very peculiar.
Marchy started to turn, set to leave the little creature to its musings since nothing in the room could fall on him, but then the mirror rattled against the stones behind it as if being shaken again and again. Perhaps harm could befall Hawthorn in here regardless. Before he could react though, a woman appeared behind the reflective silver and then tumbled out of the glass, shrieking. Hawthorn squeaked and ran for the corner to hide under a rose leaf. Without hesitation, Marchy shot forward to catch the woman before she landed on the stone flooring, losing his hat in the maneuver.
What just happened?
Then it dawned on him. This was no ordinary mirror, but the mirror. The one Alice had come through, as well as other findlings on different occasions. Alice had been the most notorious because, like Cadence, she'd managed to visit Wonderland more than once.
The second realization at hand was that the woman he'd rescued from a nasty fall had to be a findling. The first findling to appear since Melody and Cadence several years ago.
"Oh, my God. Did that really happen?" the findling asked and turned in his arms to seek his face. She blinked bright blue eyes and his breath caught in his throat at his first good look at her. Then, his cheeks heated as her gaze immediately focused on not him, but his ears. He was used to it, but sometimes it bothered him. "You're—"
"Yes, like a rabbit. Don't call me that though. Or a hare." He hadn't meant to snap and regretted he'd made the mahogany-haired beauty flinch at his tone. Ever since Alice left, findlings showed up calling him the March Hare like he was some animal on exhibit. He'd never liked Alice. Had warned Hatter against her, but had he listened? Nooooo….
"I'm sorry." Her voice brought him back from the resentful past. The woman stepped away from him, and he clenched his fists awkwardly at his sides, not sure what to do as she glanced around. He focused on her hands, one of which shone crimson. She had cut herself somehow.
"Your hand," he said, and sent a glance at the mirror to see if the thorns had grown too close or if there were sharp edges to the frame, but nothing seemed amiss. "You're bleeding."
"I…" She stared at her hand and shook her head, bringing her gaze back to his. "I…" She swayed, and this time, Marchy failed to reach her in time before she landed on the floor, unconscious, and on top of his favorite hat. He didn't worry about that at the moment, and it had at least cushioned her head from the fall. Hawthorn grew brave and approached with caution, sniffing her hair before turning to him and squeaking.
Had the dormouse sensed someone coming through the looking glass before she'd fallen through? "She should be all right. I'm going to take her to the queen anyway, to have her looked over." Cadence and her sister would be better equipped to handle the findling and explain the rules of her visit. Based on her clothing, she must hail from the same world and time as the other two. Cadence often wore a pair of breeches of the same blue, coarse material, only without tears and holes all over them. He crouched beside the new findling and checked the areas of her legs where the rips were in case there were more injuries, or she had been attacked by some sort of beast, but she appeared to be uninjured aside from her palm.
What happened to her?
As Marchy picked the woman up, her head lolled against his shoulder and he blinked. Her lips were redder than a rose. They looked so soft, decadent. He shook himself out of his lascivious thoughts before they could go any further. He really was the cad he'd been called before. Funny how that bothered him now, considering his moving from woman to woman with no urge to keep one.
Hawthorn climbed up his leg and onto the findling's chest, hitching a free ride. "What do you think?" he asked the dormouse. "The queen said I could keep one thing I found down here as an unbirthday present. Should we keep the findling until she returns home? Show everyone I'm not as unfriendly and crotchety as they think?"
It was the perfect setup. He would prove he could handle a woman in his spa
ce for more than an hour or two, and she would go home in two days' time, leaving him and his things and all his other hats, alone. Perhaps the request could even save him from the manual labor the queen had tried to pass onto him.
Aye, the findling was the perfect gift, indeed.
Chapter 4
The back of her head felt like she'd been hit by one of those carnival mallets used to send a weight up to hit a bell in order to gauge someone's strength. Whoever had rung her bell had the strength of an elephant. Wincing, April cupped the sore spot.
"She's rousing," someone whispered nearby, and her eyes shot open as she stared into the face of a brunette woman wearing a maroon dress and a small gold tiara containing a ruby in its center. "Hello. What's your name, hon?"
April sat up on the bed and observed the room. The walls were made of dark stone, and the window didn't have glass over it. The bed and furniture were shades of black with red and gold sheets and upholstery. A huge pitcher and basin sat on a table by the door. The woman was accompanied by another female, this one blonde and in a violet gown. Both of them looked like they were going to a costume party.
"Where am I?" She remembered what had occurred at the antique store, and then the strange man who'd witnessed her fainting. She glanced down. A bandage was wrapped around her cut hand. This wasn't possible, yet her surroundings were not only unfamiliar, but unusual. And the image of the man with the rabbit ears and soft brown eyes would be forever imprinted on her brain.
Where did he go? He'd been startling attractive, and though his expression when he found her were equal parts surprised and concerned, something about his lips and eyes contained a spark of mischief. She had been instantly intrigued, but everything had overwhelmed her before she could make sense of anything.
The woman changed her questioning tactic instead of answering, though it was fair when April hadn't answered hers either. "Do you know how you ended up falling into the mirror?"
What did she have to lose, really? Her boss clearly didn't plan to follow her here, and it didn't make sense why she didn't go herself and wanted April to instead. "I was pushed."
The women exchanged glances.
"Melody," the woman in the tiara said and glanced at the other girl. They had similar features. Sisters perhaps? "Go find Gareth for me, please."
The blonde nodded and exited the room.
April watched her leave and then turned back to the brunette. "If this is the place I think it is, does that make me crazy?"
The woman snorted, leaned in close and whispered, "We're all mad here." April must have looked horrified because the woman snickered. "Just kidding. I've always wanted a reason to say that. Don't expect to encounter a living acid trip here, though some things are odd, and some animals do talk." She sat at the edge of the bed. "I'm Cadence, and the woman who just left was my sister, Melody."
"I'm April." She didn't know what to think about anything. She couldn't deny what was happening to her, but it was still so hard to believe.
"Well, April, welcome to the Red Kingdom. You've arrived in Wonderland at the perfect time since we have a feast tonight and a masquerade ball tomorrow. Regardless of whether you are given leave to stay or if you return home, you should have a great time while here." Her smile was genuinely warm, and it made her want to trust the woman. That didn’t mean she was absorbing the words being spoken to her though. She could actually feel her eyes glazing over.
A knock sounded on the door before Melody entered again, but with a blond man behind her wearing a dress coat that matched Cadence's gown, only the style clashed horribly. Cadence's dress was of a Tudor fashion, where the man's was straight out of the Victorian period. As were the clothes worn by the two men following him in. The first had dark hair, bright green eyes, wore a top hat and carried a teacup. He stared at her with curiosity and moved aside to let the man who had caught her earlier push in a tea cart. His rabbit ears were hard not to stare at due to them being so unusual, but she didn't want to offend him. So she turned back to Cadence.
The woman didn't miss a beat. Gesturing at each man in turn, she introduced them. "Gareth, my husband. Hatter stitched up your cut earlier since he's handy with needle and thread. And I believe you've already met Marchy." Cadence returned her gaze and started to giggle. She covered her mouth, but it didn't stop the sound.
"I do beg your pardon," Marchy snapped, standing at his full height. He seemed stubborn, brash, and set in his ways. Those were the kind who tended to harbor a strong sense of self-consciousness and doubt, and if his comment about his ears right off the bat when she first met him was any indication, she was right. She'd known a lot of kids in the system who reacted similarly, and she instantly felt like she understood him.
Gareth glared at Marchy and rested a palm on his wife's shoulder. "She is your queen. Show respect in front of the guests, at least."
"She's not my queen," Marchy said and crossed his arms. "I reside in the White Kingdom. You know this."
"When you are a guest in the Red Kingdom, she is," Gareth retorted, mimicking the posture.
Queen? April's gaze locked onto the tiara. Of course she was. That would make Gareth the king. But didn't Ms. Scarlet say she'd been the Red Queen of Wonderland? She opened her mouth to ask when Cadence finally got ahold of herself.
"Sorry! I was just struck funny as I recalled your request from earlier, and there's a rather amusing name issue, you see…"
"I do not," Marchy grumbled. His gaze flicked toward her and his hard expression softened, only to reset when he returned his attention to Cadence.
"Her name is April."
Melody and Gareth locked gazes and burst into laughter. Hatter smiled, his focus shifting to the side to observe his friend at the tea cart. Marchy uncrossed his arms, shuffled around uncomfortably, and crossed them again.
"Just what are you implying?" Marchy snapped.
Hatter—the Mad Hatter?—spoke up instead of Cadence. With a bored tone, he lifted his cup from the saucer he held in his opposite hand and stated, "Were you to wed, the poor findling's name would become April March. Perchance your claiming her for your unbirthday was fate, my friend."
Everyone started talking at once, and April raised her hands in front of her and waved them. "Whoa, I just got here. Nobody is marrying or claiming anybody."
"Uh oh, she doesn't want you, Harold." Gareth grinned widely. If we weren't throwing a feast already, that alone would be cause for one."
Who was Harold?
Marchy's gaze darted from one person to another, irritation clearly overcoming any other emotion he felt for the moment. "Nobody calls me that."
"Your mother calls you that," Hatter said.
Melody elbowed him in the ribs, and his cup clattered against the saucer he had been setting upon it. "'Et tu, brute?' Shouldn't you be siding with your best friend instead of Gareth in this?"
Hatter shrugged. "You're clearly his champion this time, love. This is my less than subtle reminder that he didn't want you to sit across from him at the tea table. Still doesn't."
April was completely lost, but for Marchy, or Harold rather, this clearly was the last straw. He threw his arms up in the air. "Because until she got here, we had a system. The tea table had a system. She comes in and suddenly the system doesn't matter, and anyone can sit where they want and be where they want, and no one thinks to ask me how I feel. No, they just do, do, do, and take, take, take, and there's no, 'Thanks, Marchy, for the lovely tea and crumpets.' No, 'Oh my, who made sure the cat was comfortable when delivering a freakish litter of Boojum kittens when they were at the White Kingdom for the night—we should probably thank him.' One of these days you will appreciate me for all I do, and you know what?"
Marchy spun toward Melody, and Hatter and pointed a finger at them. "I resign from my duty. I'll tell the White Queen when she arrives tomorrow for the feast. See how you like doing everything without me."
Cadence cleared her throat, and he glared toward her. "Adelaide can't make it.
The king isn't feeling well, so she's staying to ensure his comfort."
April felt like an intruder. She didn't want to make a comment and draw attention back to herself; however, the sassy part of her couldn't help but wonder if a king didn't already have his every comfort being seen to. But she didn’t know these people enough to make such a statement. Instead, she regarded Marchy, who hadn't calmed down since his outburst. Hatter, on the other hand, didn't seem remotely fazed by the threat that was made. He calmly sipped his tea and let his friend continue his tantrum as though this was a routine situation. And perhaps it was.
"Oh, that's just grand," Marchy said finally and turned toward the door. Before he could leave, Cadence cleared her throat a second time. He halted, shoulders tensing.
The queen briefly glanced at April, and then back to Marchy. "You may have resigned your position with Hatter, but you are still a guest for my masquerade tomorrow. I expect you to be there, which means you are expected to remain in the Red Kingdom until the following day, especially if you're serious about your…unbirthday present." Her gazed flicked back toward April.
What did that mean? They kept saying something about his claiming her for his unbirthday, but didn't she have a say in this?
Marchy didn't say anything but stormed from the room. She felt sorry for anyone who dared cross his path before he had a moment to himself. Clearly, he'd not handled Hatter and Melody's marriage well, and there was a story there. Maybe someone would tell her about it, but she wouldn't ask. Not right now.
"What the hell is his problem?" Melody said finally, her expression reflecting hurt from his words. "I was on his side."
Hatter patted her forearm. "He's always been a grump. Let him cool down from the rejection, and he'll be back to normal and apologize."
Rejection? From whom? …Oh. Wait. Did that mean he'd wanted to marry or lay claim to her? Like…for real? April was so confused, and her desire to go after the man who'd stormed out minutes before didn't help the situation. What was it about Marchy that intrigued her so? "Can someone please explain what happened?"
The Enchanting Page 3