The Mad King (The Dark Kings #1)(42)

“I never was any good at making lemon curd.”

Don’t know why I said that, but I turned on my heel and ran, ran like the hounds of hell gave chase. I ran for that cliff, knowing that the moment I reached it, I could win, I could outrun the monsters. And when I got there, I didn’t stop, but again I ran over the edge, spreading my arms and legs and closing my eyes as the wind whistled sharply through my ears.

And for just a second, I remembered what it felt like to be alive.

Just before smacking the ground, I shifted, becoming a great big thunderbird with wings of bronze and gold, and as I flew through the sky, sheets of rain and bolts of lightning followed in my wake.

*

Hatter

I stood beneath the downpour, watching my beautiful dark bird wing away from me, her voice crying out in despair and melancholy, and I trembled.

She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen or known in all my life.

And for the first time in a very long time, I felt hope.

That tea had come entirely from Alice’s trapped memories. She still knew nothing of our daughter. Or me, sitting out beneath the rain as my mind had fractured bit by bit more for want of her. That’d been one part of our tale I’d deliberately left out.

Alice was remembering. And I didn’t know if it was the magic of the Stones of Veritas or the whether it was a magic all her own, but she’d not lied to me when she’d said she was still in there and would always fight for us.

Rubbing at my aching chest, I was able for just a moment to ignore the pain ripping through my body with each day I was forced to linger here.

“I know you’re in there,” I whispered to the breeze. “I feel you, my Alice. And I will never stop fighting for us so long as there is breath left in my body. Come back to me. Please, come back.”





Chapter 14


Alice


The dead did not dream.

And yet I did.

I wasn’t sure when I’d landed. Or when I’d shifted back to human.

But I was high above the clouds, in a strange nest of twigs, curled in on myself with my cheek resting upon my wrist as I dreamed of a kaleidoscope of colors.

I whimpered.

There was a man.

A beautiful, devilish man. And though I could not make out his features, all I knew, and the only thing that really mattered, was that he adored me.

He was madness and chaos.

And I reveled in it.

I laughed. I twirled and danced upon a sea of floating gems. And he watched. He always watched me, his eyes raking my form with desire and rising lust. I stood nude and proud before him, undulating my hips, beckoning him forward with a crook of my finger. And he grinned. A sexy, side curl of a grin. His big, strong body unfurled from his seat as he made his way slowly over to me.

The night rang out with the song of angels high above.

The sky was blue. And full of dancing yellow lights. We lived in a landscape of fantasy. Glowing mushrooms lit the way from our cottage to the gardens behind. Door after door led to a million worlds of whimsy.

But his home, our home, was the place I loved most.

Then he touched me and I forgot things like words.

I was a creature of desire.

Of want.

Of need.

We kissed, and magic erupted between us. The land sighed happily. The strange and wonderful animals came out to watch us play. I did not mind, for he had his hands on me and I had my hands on him.

And then he was pushing inside me, and he was so strong, so warm. I rocked my hips, arching my back, telling him to give me all of himself.

And he did. He always did.

He never held anything back from me.

We danced upon the clouds, we kissed, we nipped, we moaned and sighed. Moved as one soul, one spirit. He was me, and I was him.

And then we were there, at the very pinnacle of joy. Both of us together, both of us smiling, and I couldn’t see his face, but my soul knew his. And I loved him. With everything that was inside me.

One final kiss and we spiraled together.

With a gasp, I woke up, looking around myself in a daze, wondering where the clouds of jewels were and why there were no mushrooms to light my way. I was alone.

He was not with me.

My arms ached.

My soul yearned.

I sniffed, only just realizing I cried.

Touching the tip of my fingers to my cheek, I pulled away and stared at the now-crystalline teardrop resting milky white upon my pinky.

I wasn’t sure what it was that I’d just dreamed, all I knew was every inch of me felt alive and hot. And my throat was tight with pain, with heartache I couldn’t put a name to.

It was Hatter’s story, I was sure. Hearing of his love for his moss woman, that’s what this was. I’d get over it. I always did.

Life had not been easy for me, why should death be?

Needing to do something, I scooted to the very edge of the massive bird nest and dangled my feet over the side of it, wondering for just a second what it would feel like if I fell and crashed into the sharp rocks below.

Would it hurt?

Could I die again?

A sound like that of a strangled animal slipped past my lips, and I squeezed my eyes shut. Shouldn’t death feel better?

That’s what all the stories said.

All I knew was I’d never hurt so much in all my life.

Tomorrow I would see if he was still there. It was selfish of me, I know. He had to find her; I couldn’t deny him that. All I wanted was two more days. He’d promised me days’ worth of questions, and I would hold him to it.