Follow the White Rabbit (Beautiful Madness #1)(7)

Gwen wrapped her arms around her best friend’s neck and let him spin her about the room as relief coursed through her. He couldn’t know how important this one moment truly was. Not just for her, but for all of them. But he didn’t need to know. For now he would be happy simply because she was, and that in itself was something worth celebrating.

When her feet found the ground once again, Gwen continued to hold on to Marc’s shoulders as her vision slowly refocused. The mixture of giddiness and spinning had left her quite lightheaded. She took a step back and her ankle turned slightly.

Right away, Marc’s strong hands were at her waist to help Gwen steady herself.

“I’m all right,” she insisted. Marc moved one hand to run his fingers through his dark curls, but the other lingered at Gwen’s side. She looked up at him expectantly but found him peering down at her hopefully. It was an expression Gwen had hoped never to see again.

His brown eyes stared steadily into hers, and his lips parted slightly. As if in slow motion his eyes began to close as he tilted his face down to meet hers.

Gwen froze.

They had been over this. She knew she should either step away or at the very least close her mouth and stop gawking, but she couldn’t so much as blink. He seemed so peaceful, so happy.

All Gwen felt was nauseous.

A knock at the door shattered the moment, causing Marc’s eyes to pop back open just quickly enough to catch the look of horror Gwen was wearing. A flush crept up into his cheeks, and immediately Gwen felt as though she should apologize. But for what?

“I’ll get it.” Gwen took several steps back, stopping only when the sharp corner of an end table hit her hip.

“It’s for me.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you were expecting anyone,” Gwen said, fumbling for words, for a way to fill the silence.

The guest rapped their hand against the door again, obviously impatient.

“Could you start some tea? I might have bragged a little about your concoctions.” He wouldn’t meet her gaze as he swept out of the room, assuming that Gwen would agree to play hostess.

But of course she would. Gwen and Marc shared their strange, crooked home, but the reality was that Gwen lived there because of Marc’s generosity and their unlikely friendship. The two of them had lived together for years, long before Marc’s feelings began to deepen, but it was still technically his home.

She lit a fire under the gas stove in the kitchen and set some water to boil before opening her store cupboard, looking for something she could serve Marc’s guest.

A row of tins lined the back of the cupboard, each labeled with a plant clipping. Most were empty as she hadn’t found time to go into Neverwood and replenish her stores. She told herself it was because there had been too much else she needed to attend to, but she knew it had more to do with avoiding the shadows and voices of the forest.

She pulled down a black rose-flavored tea that never disappointed and set it on the counter.

“Gwen, come out here please.”

“Give me a minute,” she hollered back, determined to keep her voice steady and unaffected. She had been trying for months to ignore Marc’s feelings because the last time they’d spoken of it had almost ruined their friendship. The last thing they needed was to air their awkwardness out in front of company.

“Gwen, please.” It was the second plea that caught Gwen’s attention. Perhaps it was his way of trying to take back the brief, awful moment they had shared, but the formal tone in his voice gave her pause.

In the lounge, Gwen found Marc and his guest talking in conspiratorial whispers. The woman’s long, white hair spilled around her like an aura, hiding her face from view. Gwen didn’t need to see her to know that this woman was not their usual clientele. She wore a long, formfitting dress that looked far too formal for their little forest town.

“Gwen,” Marc said as his eyes met hers. “I’d like you to meet my friend, The White Queen.”

All thoughts of Marc’s feelings and her earlier triumph with the rabbit fled from Gwen’s mind as the woman spun to face her.





CHAPTER FOUR





IN THE BUSINESS OF PROBLEMS


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Gwen and Marc considered themselves to be problem solvers of the highest regard. It was usually just their own regard, but so long as people continued to pay them money from time to time, the rest didn’t matter. Not that Marc, and by extension Gwen, needed the money but paying clients proved that they had something of value to offer Wonderland.

That was all Gwen had ever really wanted. To have worth, to be someone of value. At thirteen she had been living in a small forest village—even smaller than Tildoor, where she lived with Marc—and working as a maid. It was tedious and a little bit like torture, but she hadn’t had any other options. She couldn’t be satisfied with a life of mundane chores and repetitive thoughts, but there was no way out... until she was forced out. Hours of late-night reading and a tendency toward distraction eventually cost Gwen her job, however dull, and the security that came with it.

Her mother was incapable of helping herself, let alone her only child. Gwen retreated to the only place she’d ever truly felt safe—a library in the northern part of Neverwood forest. As a child, she would walk for hours to get there and spend her time tucked safely between the shelves, convincing herself there was nothing else beyond the warm lighting and the smell of ink on old paper. It would have been the ideal spot to get her bearings, but her sanctuary lost that special something when she had to hide the fact that she was sleeping in the building.