“And for that, I respect him.”

“Yes, but I’ll convince the tribes to come together under your command and rise up against Arch. I’ll say that you’ve promised to leave Boarderland to them all equally-which you can do or not, as you choose-if they will fight the forces of Wonderland as your army. You could be queen of Wonderland and Boarderland.”

Redd remained silent, thoughtful.

Jack glanced uncertainly at Alistaire’s glinting bone saw. “And, uh, I heard you mention that you’re off to visit the caterpillars,” he said, “but if you wish, I can get you into Boarderland without Alyss or her forces discovering you…a certain guard who can be bribed. I know where Arch’s royal convoy is presently camped and it’s a short journey from there to the Valley of Mushrooms.”

“I have powers enough to enter Boarderland without resorting to bribes,” Redd sniffed.

“Of course you do. I just meant…” Growing more desperate, Jack fell to whining. “Mistress Heart! In a scheme to wrest power from Alyss, my parents were betrayed by King Arch and sentenced to the Crystal Mines. I’m broke, friendless, and without any wigs whatsoever! I have only one reason to remain in this world, a single guiding principle by which to steer my life, and that is to bring utter ruin down on Arch’s head, just as he has brought to my family!”

“Why didn’t you say so? For that motive alone, I’ll let you live to try your plan.” The Cat, never fond of Jack of Diamonds, rolled his eyes.

“But I do doubt your ability to convince the tribes to fight under me,” Redd observed. “And I live only to prove your doubts unfounded, Your Imperial Viciousness.”

“Let’s hope you do.” Turning to the others with what was supposed to be expansiveness, Redd said, “You see, I’m not above helping an unfortunate soul find new purpose in life…so long as it benefits me.”

The next day, Jack of Diamonds led Redd and her entourage out from the shadows of Boarderland’s

Glyph Cliffs. Arch’s royal encampment was visible in the middle distance.

“I’ll leave you to introduce yourself to the king,” Jack said, bowing to Redd. “It’s best if he doesn’t see me.”

“You have exactly seven cycles of the Thurmite moon to carry out your plan,” Redd informed him. “If you cherish consciousness, do not fail.”

“The next time we meet, the tribes of Boarderland will be at your disposal,” Jack promised, bowing several more times and hurrying off.

Redd watched him trot back toward the Glyph Cliffs, then turned and, with Vollrath, The Cat, Alistaire, and Siren in step behind her-

“Come,” she said, starting for Arch’s camp. “It’s time to visit one I called a friend, back when I had use of friends.”

T HE TWIN Wonderland suns had risen full above the horizon, the Wondertropolis skyline gilded, backlit, with their morning rays. In the palace courtyard, the sunflowers planted around the war memorial were yawning and shaking off the dew. Dodge-wide-awake despite having been up the entire night-was standing at his father’s grave.

“In everything, father, I aspire to do as I believe you would have done. I know that my behavior reflects on you and, despite my failings, I hope I’ve made you proud.”

The Hereafter Plant growing from the mulch of Sir Justice’s grave-its blossom the perfect likeness of the beloved guardsman-bobbed on its stem.

“But this idea that I’m supposed to maintain my proper place in relation to my queen…” Dodge went on, “I love Alyss, father. Why should her title demand her to favor the affections of ranking sons when they’ve done nothing but win the lottery of birth? I won’t ignore my heart just because it’s not considered proper for a guardsman to love his queen. I hope you understand.”

For the first time this morning, Dodge looked directly at the Hereafter Plant’s complicated blossom-the overlaid petals that formed the familiar cheekbones, the pistil-eyelashes. Even the buds of the eyes were accurate; Sir Justice’s irises had been precisely that shade of turquoise blue.

“I miss you, dad.”

It sounded so weak, so inadequate. Words given the impossible task of conveying a family’s tragedy. I

miss you.

He wiped his eyes. The sunflowers were sniffling in sympathy and one of them lifted its voice in song, the melody somehow evoking the melancholy beauty of loss, of surviving in the face of seemingly unbearable loss.

“Give me the wisdom and courage to face the future, whatever may be coming,” Dodge prayed.

The kitchens and servants halls were buzzing with news of Hatter’s defection, but Alyss, alone in the palace’s sovereign suite, had stopped spying on him. She’d learned little from her numerous remote viewings of the Milliner, in which, inevitably, she’d see him attending some leisure event with Boarderland’s king, apparently unconcerned for Molly’s safety.

Which means either that Molly’s safe or that he’s doing what he must to ensure she becomes so. I will not give up on him, not when he has so often risked his life for my mother’s as well as my own.

Her mother. Alyss stared into the looking glass hanging above the hand-chiseled water basin. You said you’d always be with me. On the other side of the glass.

“I must be staring into the wrong mirrors,” Alyss said aloud. In one of the parlors, she lowered herself into a floating chair. Dodge’s packet in her lap, she took out the first of his letters.

Alyss,

You would have been fourteen today if you’d lived. Happy birthday. I’m not so mad about what’s happened to us right now, I don’t know why. Bibwit would probably say it’s because it’s impossible to be angry all the time, but he’s wrong. Tomorrow or even sooner all of my rage and hurt will return. Total. All-consuming. I believe in my rage and hurt. I need them if I’m to survive long enough to kill The Cat. After that, I don’t care what happens. Especially now that you and father are gone.

The letters were not dated; it was impossible to tell in what order they were written. Alyss chose another at random.

Best friend,

I can’t live according to the principles of White Imagination or even by the guardsman’s code my father and I used to value. Try to understand. It isn’t that I don’t believe in them, but I can’t allow room for belief. The Cat must, and will, die. Wonderland isn’t a city that cares about honor codes anyway. If I lived by some code, my actions would become predictable. The enemy would take advantage of this and I’d be killed. An honorable death doesn’t exist. Death is death. But it’s funny that survival and revenge require the same thing: no honor codes, no supposed higher principles to aspire to, no mercy. Would you still recognize me, Alyss? I avoid looking glasses, not wanting to see my own reflection.

Another letter was stained with what might have been tea or something worse. Alyss,