Page 98 of Madness Becomes Her
“Aren’t you forgetting your mission?” she asks as the Chatterwocky snarls and fire rockets out of his throat toward amass of Wonderlanders who scatter to the wind to survive the heat.
“No. I haven’t. My mission has shifted.”
“Has it, then?” She grins.
Her arrogance is met with skill when she steps toward me again, swinging her sword, only to falter over a rock beneath her feet.
My blade captures her, the edge pressing into her throat.
When her eyes flick toward me, there are treacherous amounts of fear coloring their stares.
“You don’t have the stomach,” she whispers.
My blade presses deeper as someone shouts, “Cut off her head!” from across the grove.
“They seem to think I do.”
“Ignorance. It’s what keeps them loyal to me.” She swallows, and I press harder with the Vorpal Blade against her throat, my other hand grabbing the back of her neck to hold her still.
In her fear, she forgets herself. Her blade drops to the ground, her hands coming up to hold the blade.
I straighten up, my eyes boring into hers. “Ignorance is apparently catching, because it’s the thing that’s going to end your reign.”
“I’m an…” she swallows again, “excellent judge of character, Eleanor.” Her whispered words have me pressing the Vorpal Blade even deeper. The scent of blood tells me I’ve breached her skin, but I don’t back down.
My heart is running away, and tears barrel down my cheeks. “Oh yeah? What kind of character am I, then?”
“The kind that doesn’t make it to the end of the story,” she taunts raspily.
“I thought you said you were an excellent judge of character?”
A questioning look flutters through her eyes, her pupils dilating as pain ramps up. My hand at her nape tightens as I grit my teeth.
“You’re the character who doesn’t know when they’re beat because their ego is too large for their own good,” I manage through my anger. “The character who steps on those beneath them, forcing them to rise against you!”
Fire licks at my back as the Chatterwocky sets the ground ablaze.
Looking over momentarily is dangerous, but I take the liberty.
Finlo leaps from atop a boulder, sword in hand, as he pierces the flesh of the dragon in passing.
A screech rent the air.
“No!” the Red Queen sputters, blood painting her lips an even deeper rouge.
“I already had a cliffhanger before; I won’t let my story end that way again.”
My hand feels otherworldly as it grips the hilt of the Vorpal Blade tightly before sliding it fluidly against her throat.
Her hands tries to close the wound as I release her, and she stumbles backward.
Blood spurts through her fingers, her eyes wide, her lungs gasping.
The Chatterwocky seems to sense his queen’s distress and lands amid the fighting.
Everything ceases, even the guards drop their swords to their sides, turning to watch their queen’s last moments as she collapses.
Walking closer, I loom over her, looking down my nose. “The thing about villains I’ve never understood, even in stories, is why be the villain at all. Wonderland is so beautiful; you could’ve been happy here. You could’ve lived.”
