Page 40 of Madness Becomes Her
I remain wide awake long after Finlo falls asleep, my mind whirling with thoughts of everything I can’t control. Finally, deciding that I can’t dwell on that which I can’t maintain, I close my eyes and roll into Finlo.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WHIMSICAL MISERY
We’ve been working on our escape plan for Prospero, which includes magical potions that I don’t understand, so I’ve tuned most of it out. I don’t have a significant role; I only go to and from the dungeons if Ariadne can get me inside.
Tomorrow is D-day, but today is a tea party. One I’m told is special. It’s Gus’s birthday—a dormouse with a peculiar knack for falling asleep during almost every tea party, so I haven’t gotten to know him much yet.
Mitzy has been much nicer to me since I’ve been helping her and the other kitchen mice prepare for the party. I set the last plate on the table and place my hands on my hips.
“I think we did it!” I announce.
“That we have, Mistress,” Mitzy says, what I assume is a smile winding up her cheeks. “Hatter will be much pleased.”
That makes something in my chest bloom and heat. The longer I’m here, the more I can’t seem to help my reaction to him, and this thing I’m certain only I feel growing.
In my world, a man would’ve made a move already if he felt something. Then again, we’re not in my world.
“Why don’t you run along and tell Hatter the party is done? He likes to approve of everything,” Mitzy says.
“I don’t think I’m the one to tell him, do you? Besides, he’s hatting in his workshop. I don’t want to disturb him.”
She grins. This time it’s clearly a grin, and it’s at my floundering. “No. You’re the perfect person to interrupt him, Eleanor. Now run along.”
As I turn toward the hill leading me to the house, I feel like a child who’s been scolded.
When I open the door to Fin’s workshop, a fabric roll flies through the hair and nearly brains me. “Hey! Watch it!” I squeal, ducking out of range.
It hits a wall and thunks to the floor, unrolling a bit before stopping near a chair leg.
Finlo eyes me, frustratingly devastating heat beaming from his eyes, and I shift on my feet to escape its intensity. “Oh, Tiger Lily. I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.” The heat in his eyes dissipates, and I’m caught in an equally devastating smile he gives me.
“Mitzy sent me. What are you doing?”
Leaning over his station, he glowers at the mess of fabric torn to bits. I recognize the heap as what was my hat in progress.
“Oh, Fin. What have you done?”
“It wasn’t good enough,” he mutters angrily, hanging his head.
“Sure it was. It wasn’t perfect yet, but it was getting there.” Reaching over his arm, I lift some of the ruined hat before dropping it back down.
“No!” he growls, turning toward me. “It wasn’t perfect enough. Not enough to be worn by you.”
My stomach knots, and I wish he wouldn’t say such things. They only confuse the narrative in my head that involves the two of us.
Clearing my throat, I squeeze his arm. “Well, we will start fresh. After the tea party?”
This calms him, and tension leaves his shoulders as he huffs out an exasperated exhale.
“Mitzy wants you to come check our progress on the tea table,” I remind him, trying to keep his wandering mind off the hat beneath him.
“Tea table,” he mutters.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I offer. “I can assure you, it’s going to be a grand tea.”
His smile is nearly blinding as he lifts his head and looks up at me. “You’re fitting in here rather nicely, Tiger Lily.”
