The Mad King (The Dark Kings #1)(66)

“Follow or stay. Follow or stay.” She muttered under her breath but rushed to catch up when she heard the next slithering thwamp.

He wouldn’t look at her and he wouldn’t stop. Alice wanted to kick him. If this was a dream, he’d be nicer. Which meant it wasn’t a dream. But then there was that whole white-rabbit thing.

Each step they took, the more and more she seethed. One step blurred into the next and the next until she wasn’t even sure how much time had passed, only that it felt like forever and the silent treatment was quickly starting to wear thin.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to be a little more polite.” The moment the words left her mouth, she wanted to kick herself. Why the hell did she care?

He didn’t stop and the field was now no longer a field but rolling hills full of ruts.

She panted, calves screaming as she gripped her side. Shoes would have been great right about now. Barefoot was so not fun, especially when dirt got between her toes and stones dug into her heels. But she would not stop and she would not beg him to either.

Since he wouldn’t talk and she couldn’t at this point, it gave her plenty of time to think. Whatever had happened tonight, she was pretty sure she wasn’t dreaming.

The sights, the smells, the burning pit of anger gnawing at her gut. No, she wasn’t dreaming. And she wasn’t dead. Because she was pretty sure dead people didn’t want to murder someone.

She eyed the back of his brightly painted, pin-striped suit. What was with the stupid getup anyway? Just how many pocket watches did one man need? She counted at least thirty, and that was on his back! Who did that? All her life she’d been infatuated by the man. Now...

She rolled her eyes when her heart fluttered at the sight of his broad shoulders. Stupid, traitorous emotions.

A bead of sweat plopped off the tip of her nose. Annoyed, she wiped her brow. When would this torture end? Where was he taking her?

“Dammit!” She hissed when she stepped on a twig, its rough edge easily slicing through her heel.

Alice grabbed hold of a thick tree branch and hopped on one leg as she tried to peer at the bottom of her foot.

Blood. She growled, swiping at the wet warmth of it. “I could kill him. I will kill him. That bastard. Why am I following him? This is stupid. Stupid, Alice. Why did you rub that card?”

“Alice!”

Startled to hear him call out her name, she glanced up. He was looking at her, his face stone cold, but his eyes held a frantic edge to them.

“Listen to me.”

She swallowed hard. His tone held a note of “Stay calm and don’t panic.” Never a good sign when someone started a sentence that way.

A long, sibilant hiss sounded in her ear.

She froze. Swallowing hard, she turned her face and came eye to eye with the black, beady eyes of a ginormous snake, a snake unlike any she’d seen before. Its forked tongue came to within inches of her nose. And now that she was aware of it, she wondered why the hell she hadn’t noticed the tree sported purple polka dots.

“Hatter,” she squeaked and slowly dropped her hand.

Her branch moved.

“Hatter,” she hissed. She couldn’t take her eyes from the beast, as if looking at it would somehow prevent it from wrapping its thick body around her own. “Help. Me.”

Strong hands latched onto her shoulders. Her eyes were still wide, and her knees felt locked in place. Hatter pinched her and she jumped, glaring at him.

“Get behind me,” he said.

She didn’t need to be told twice. Alice stepped into the shelter of his back. Her fingers clenched the edge of his jacket, watching in horror as he lifted out a hand toward the creature’s broad head.

“And truly I was afraid.” His deep voice hypnotized her, and she buried her nose in his jacket. “I was most afraid. But even so, honored still more that he should seek my hospitality from out of the dark door of the secret earth...”

There was nothing after that save the stillness of the breeze, the Hatter’s even breaths, and the wild rush of blood in her ears. It seemed an eternity before he turned.

“He’s gone. Are you okay?” He touched her face, and she hated that his soft touch felt so good.

“Does it matter? Do you care?” she snapped, jerking her face out of his hand even though that was the last thing she wanted to do. She wanted to touch him, to remember again the man who’d saved the dying little girl years ago, but she couldn’t forget how he’d been earlier.

His hand hung in midair for a moment until, with a slow nod, he dropped it. Hatter turned on his heel and started forward again. “Almost there,” he rumbled.

“Fine,” she said, equal parts wanting to cry and wanting to pick up a rock and throw it at the back of his head. But she did neither; instead, she limped along behind him, her gashed heel stinging every step of the way.

Moments later, Alice was surrounded by a swarm of dancing fireflies. They zipped in and out through trees, lighting the canopy of leaves with their golden, liquid radiance.

Hatter stopped. “Stay here.”

Their rest stop didn’t look like much. There were trees and glowing mushrooms, the spotted, glowing kinds you’d see in cartoons, and in an assortment of colors. A large swarm of fireflies congregated in and around them. She wiggled her toes, wanting to moan at the lush smoothness of soft grass beneath her feet. She needed to sit. Now.