Page 52 of Madness Becomes Her
“What should I do?” I ask, and Fin gives me a grin.
“Sit, drink some tea. I’ll get our tent up.”
“That doesn’t seem helpful, but I am thirsty,” I mutter, removing my pack and finding a log to sit on where Lewis is perching firewood into a triangle to light.
Watching Finlo work magic to erect the tent, I realize I wouldn’t have been any help. I would’ve been in the way.
After everything that happened before we left last night, I’m eager to see how our dynamic has changed. Every step Finlo and I take seems to bring us closer to furthering our relationship, which is another step away from going home.
However, I choose not to dwell on that fact and turn my attention back to Lewis, who flicks a hand toward the standing wood, causing a flame to burst to life.
“Whoa. Are you Fae also?” I ask him, unaware if this is something I should ask or if it’s best practice not to.
“We’re all some type of Fae in Wonderland, yes.”
“Fascinating.”
“Is it?”
I nod, sipping more tea before capping it.
I yawn broadly as Winston comes rushing back through camp, some kind of creature in his mouth, blood leaking from it.
Not hungry, I head toward Finlo, ducking my head inside the tent as he’s tossing our bags through the open door.
The flap closes behind me as he enters, and I wonder how he’s carried a tent and a full bed on his back, but that’s the least of my worries now.
“Are we safe to sleep here?” I ask him. Mainly because I feel as though when I close my eyes, it’ll be hours before I can open them again.
“We are. We’re in White Queen territory. We’re safe.”
So many questions swirl in my head: Is The Bog not in White Queen territory? But I’m too tired.
Pulling off my clothes, I leave only my underwear as I crawl into the bed and slide beneath the covers. I vaguely hear Finlo exit the tent before my eyes close, but I register nothing until I feel him crawl in behind me.
His arm wraps around me, and I wiggle into his body. The kiss he plants on my hair is the last thing I remember before I pull beneath the blanket of sleep with birds chirping outside the tent as day breaks around us.
“We can avoid Frabjous Day if we send her back,” Lewis whispers.
They don’t realize I’m awake and peeking around the corner as they discuss what to do with me now that a prophetess scroll has surfaced, one depicting my killing the Red Queen’s favorite Chatterwocky pet with a Vorpal Blade.
I can’t wield a Vorpal Blade. Even at age fifteen, the sword depicted on the scroll looks marginally larger than I am and heavy.
I tried to argue with them it wasn’t me, but they wouldn’t listen. Finlo is worried the Red Queen will get her hands on the scroll and come for my head, as is her way.
“I can’t send her back, I—” Fin starts, his words choking off.
“You have to. I know you want to help the girl. But she’s a danger to this world, Hatter. She’ll bring war to this bog and you know it. Remember the last time the queen rose?”
I nearly hear Finlo’s audible swallow from here.
“This bog used to be a part of Ozryn. Do you want to further align yourself with the queen you hate?”
“Well, no.”
Fin’s answer makes me swallow now, turning to pad to my room before I’m found out as tears roll down my cheeks.
“She has to go home,” Lewis argues.
