Page 34 of Alec in Wonderland (Rainbow Tales #1)

Bax breathed in and scowled. What was it that Mal had called it? Breathing blindly? No. Nose blindness. He didn't smell the roses because he'd gotten used to them. Except that now he did.

Staring at the crimson, perfumed blooms, Bax couldn't understand what had changed. Why had he suddenly become aware of the odor? And yes, it had become an odor. Something sickening. Mal was right; the scent was enough to make a man dizzy. Yet, instead of heading inside to the safety of a rose-free bedroom, Bax leaned onto the stone railing of his balcony and stared off toward the White Castle.

The Queen of Hearts hadn't mentioned the war since Mal's arrival. How strange that those things would coincide, but there it was. His presence seemed to calm everyone. The last thing Bax wanted to do was remind his queen of her obsession with ruling Wonderland, but the White Prince still awaited her decision, down in his hidden prison. And the Queen didn't even send for him at meals anymore.

Bax didn't like it. He didn't like the war, having a captive prince, or the fact that the White Prince was there because of him. Bax had turned a prince into a pawn. It should have ended the war without bloodshed. That had been his goal. But now, his queen languished in the arms of her lover, forgetting all about the husband Bax had brought her at swordpoint. Was Bax any better? He had just left the arms of his own lover, the cousin of the Queen's consort, and it had taken great strength of will to get out of that bed.

All Bax wanted to do was return to Mal and forget about the war, just as his queen had. But he couldn't leave the Prince down among the wine to sour. The Queen forgetting about her war would be wonderful. If only she didn't have the White Prince.

“It's treason,” Bax whispered to the roses. “And yet, she wouldn't have him without me. I brought him to her. It's only right that I release him.” He looked up at the ponderous moon and sighed. “Well? Do I release the Prince and end the war? The very reason I took him was to put a peaceful end to this. Now, I must free him to accomplish the same goal. Dare I? And what will happen if I don't? Maybe the White Queen will come to us. Maybe her love for her son will outweigh any fear she has of the darkness that lurks here.”

Bax breathed in again. Darkness. Evil. Was that what he was smelling? Was it a sweet rot? Putrefaction? Was the Hearts Kingdom dying from the inside out? The answer rang through him, setting his bones to vibrating while imparting an urge to weep. How could he serve a queen who tainted her kingdom with evil? But how could he abandon her when she needed him the most?

Then the thought of the Queen's cheer returned to him. Could this be a sign of healing? Maybe that damn cat was good for her. Maybe the healing touch ran in the family—an ability to love and be loved with a power that could overcome even the darkest of magic. Did Cheshire really have that kind of power? Or was the Queen simply ready to move on, and he was a convenient balm for her healing heart?

It didn't matter. Bax wanted to believe that the Queen of Hearts forgetting about the war was a good sign. Even the scent of roses affecting him must be good. It was proof that he was waking up along with his queen. The two of them were healing together. Seeing things more clearly.

The question was; should Bax let the wounds heal naturally or should he help them along?

He drew something out of his pocket and set it on the stone railing. It was the strangest thing he owned and also the most precious. That little boy from the human world had given it to him, and Bax had kept it for all these, hiding it from everyone he knew. Whenever he was troubled, he'd bring it out and roll it under his fingers. It soothed him. Back and forth. Back and forth. Side to side. It moved on tiny wheels, a metal contraption the size of his thumb. That boy, Alec, had called it a toy, but it was unlike any toy Bax had owned. Not that he had owned many toys, even when he was a child.

Bax looked down at the thing. It was purple, with a long front and doors on the sides. Alec called it something else. A car. He said it was a miniature version of things that people rode inside in his world. He said the large models moved on their own, though they are not alive. Bax picked the car up and turned it over. There was strange writing on the bottom.

“Hot Wheels,” Bax read and shook his head, smiling. “Wheels that heat up. Humans are so odd.”

He set the toy down again, stared up at the moon, and went back to rolling it over the stone. Why was he thinking about that boy so much these days? Had his thoughts of Alec made him see similarities in Mal? Or was it the other way around? Had being with Mal reminded him of Alec? Maybe it was happiness that summoned memories of the little boy. With a start, Bax realized that the short time he had spent with Alec had been the happiest moments of his youth. An hour, maybe less, but in that time, he had heard wondrous stories, played with a toy from another world, laughed without hesitation, and made a friendship that sustained him into adulthood. Looking down at the toy, he recalled how Alec had pressed it into his hand.

“You keep it,” Alec said. “You're the best friend I've made here, Bax. I want you to have it. Maybe when you're older, you'll still remember me. I'll always remember you.”

“Fuck.” Bax swiped at his eyes in shock. “Tears? Ridiculous.”

But Baxenvir knew why the memory had made him so emotional. That little boy had been so open, so kind without motive, just a boy who wanted a friend. There had been no one like Alec in Bax's life. All the children in the training program were quickly hardened, any kindness wiped out. They were taught to be ambitious, not to make friends.

“I do remember you,” Bax whispered into the night. “I will always remember you, my first and best friend.”