Page 16 of Knot My Wonderland: Part Two
Chi's form flickered with barely controlled anxiety. "How long do we have before they act?" Chi asked, his voice tight with worry.
"Unknown," I admitted, feeling the Void's ancient hunger pressing against my consciousness like a tide against a crumbling seawall. "The pattern's distress calls to them across dimensional barriers. Every hour Alice grows weaker increases their restlessness exponentially."
Heart straightened despite his wound, decision crystallizing in his ruby eyes. "Then we stop talking and start moving. Alice has already endured too much while we plan contingencies."
The Tweedles nodded in unison, their temporal equipment humming to life with synchronized precision. "The window opens in twelve minutes," Vee announced, checking readings that flickered between multiple realities.
"All teams to positions," I commanded, my shadows flowing toward the exits. "Remember—this only works if the Queen believes Heart's assault is the real threat."
As we moved I could hope this went smoothly…but I knew with the Red Queen involved…nothing would go smoothly.
Chapter
Seven
ALICE
The hours crawled by in a haze of crystalline light and growing disconnection. I lay on the crimson silk sheets, staring at the moving constellations above as the Red Queen's tonic worked through my system like slow poison. Each pulse of the collar sent waves of numbness deeper into my consciousness, making it increasingly difficult to hold onto the memories Aldric had told me to protect.
But I tried. I closed my eyes and forced myself to remember Heart's laugh, the way Chi's tail would wrap around my wrist when he sensed my anxiety, a gesture of comfort that needed no words. The moment the pattern had first responded to my will, silver and gold light flowing beneath my skin like liquid starlight.
Each memory felt precious now, fragile as spun glass against the crimson fog trying to consume them. The chamber door opened suddenly, making me flitch, revealing one of the mirror-eyed attendants. She moved with that same eerie synchronization, carrying yet another silver dress—this onedeeper in color, with crimson threading that seemed to pulse like veins beneath the fabric.
"Her Majesty requests your presence for dinner," the attendant said, her voice carrying that strange harmonic quality that made my collar hum in response. "You are to be prepared accordingly."
I stood on unsteady legs, the crimson fog making it difficult to gauge distance and direction. The attendant's hands were gentle but firm as she helped me out of the white dress, the fabric pooling around my feet like discarded innocence. The silver dress felt heavier as it settled over my skin, the crimson threading warm against my flesh as if it carried its own circulation.
"Beautiful," the attendant murmured, though her mirror-eyes reflected nothing. "The Queen will be pleased with your progress."
Progress. The word sent ice through my veins despite the unnatural warmth still pulsing through my system. I caught my reflection in the obsidian walls—pale skin made luminous by whatever oils they'd used, the carved bone collar gleaming against my throat, the dress transforming me into something that belonged in the Red Queen's twisted court.
"What kind of progress?" I managed to ask, though my voice sounded distant even to my own ears.
The attendant's mirror-eyes reflected nothing as she adjusted the fall of the silver dress around my ankles. "Your transition, of course. The tonic is working beautifully. Her Majesty says you're adapting faster than expected."
A chill ran through me despite the warmth of the crimson threading against my skin. The collar pulsed gently, matching my increasingly sluggish heartbeat as I struggled to focus through the fog.
"I'm not transitioning to anything," I said, though the words felt thick on my tongue. "I'm still me."
Was I, though? I pressed my hand against my chest, searching for the golden thread that connected me to Heart. It was there, but fainter than before—a dying ember rather than the warm flame it had once been. The silver connection to Chi flickered in and out of existence, there one moment, gone the next. The magic that I had started to learn felt harder to reach and makes me feel like I am almost a puppet.
The attendant either didn't hear my defiance or chose to ignore it, turning instead to arrange my hair with practiced precision. Her fingers worked through the strands, weaving in delicate crimson flowers that seemed to pulse with their own heartbeat against my scalp.
"The Queen says resistance is natural," she murmured, her voice melodic but hollow. "A necessary part of the cleansing process. The body fights before it surrenders."
I tried to pull away, but my limbs responded sluggishly, as though moving through honey. "I won't surrender," I managed, though the words slurred slightly at the edges.
The attendant's mirror-eyes caught mine in the reflection, showing nothing but my own pale face staring back. "They all say that at first."
A knock at the door interrupted whatever else she might have said. Captain Aldric entered, his frozen-blood eyes sweeping over me with that same clinical detachment. Today his uniform was deeper crimson, the insignia over his heart more elaborate—a sign that tonight's dinner held special significance.
"The Queen awaits," he announced, extending his arm in a formal gesture. "She is eager to continue your conversations."
I forced myself to stand straighter despite the fog clouding my thoughts. Through the weakening golden bond, I felt Heart's presence surge—stronger than before, as if he was drawingcloser. The realization sent a flutter of hope through my chest, though I carefully kept my expression neutral. If the Queen sensed any change in our connection, she might accelerate whatever she had planned.
Aldric's eyes met mine briefly as I took his arm, a flicker of warning passing between us. Don't give her any reason to suspect. The message was clear even without words.
"You look radiant," he said as he guided me through the doorway, his voice carrying just enough warmth to maintain the illusion of a devoted servant. "The Queen will be pleased with your appearance."
