Page 6

Chapter

Five

THEO

M y dragon drives me insane, pushing against my skin, desperate to take a swipe at the imposter. It’s taking everything inside me to hold him back from the creature that crawled inside of Daphne’s body. The closer I look at her, the less of the woman who captured our hearts I see.

“We need to lure the rabbit out of hiding,” she decides. “We failed miserably in the West Wing. Did none of you catch sight of him?”

We all shake our heads. She doesn’t need to know we never left the room. She’s single-mindedly focused on wherever this mysterious rabbit is going to lead us.

“How do you propose we do that?” Nash asks as he leans back on the sofa.

She hits him with a glare that the real Daphne would never wear.

She slides onto the sofa between him and Hart, lining her body next to theirs.

They both stiffen, but force themselves not to move away.

“Carrots. They can’t resist them,” she declares.

“We should leave a trail and then trap him so we can demand entry to Wonderland.”

Nash’s eyes catch mine. There are several problems to unpack with what she’s saying.

One, Wonderland isn’t anywhere in this reality, and our real Daphne wouldn’t have a clue what its name is.

If this thing is desperate to go to this other world, then we need to keep her from reaching it.

Two, trapping fairy-tale creatures isn’t who Daphne is.

The creature grasps Hart’s thigh in her hand and squeezes.

He grimaces before he lets the mask of indifference settle on his face.

Out of all of us, he’s had the most experience at hiding his true feelings and reactions, a result of growing up with King Arthur at the helm of our childhood.

The horrors we endured under the guise of strengthening us, making us better and faster, are the things mothers threaten their children with to frighten them into compliance.

Hart still bears the scars designed to drive a wedge of hatred between us.

My dragon’s warped view of the world was molded in the dark nights spent resisting the weapons Arthur inflicted on me to get us to comply.

What he didn’t count on was our bond growing stronger.

That the pain didn’t break us, but bound us together tighter than he ever thought possible.

It all makes sense now; Arthur had corrupted his own brotherhood, besting our real father to steal his birthright.

He then used him to breed the next generation before murdering him.

I wish I could bring him back to life so I could kill him a thousand ways, in a manner he deserves.

Daphne slaying him was the last thing I expected, but that’s on me for underestimating the brilliantly chaotic female.

“Good plan,” Gwyneth declares as she looks up from the book perched in her lap. “You should make a trip to the kitchens and ask the chef for some carrots.”

The imposter nods. “Excellent. Then we can set the trap and follow the little asshole.”

So she knows the rabbit, and he runs from her? Interesting.

I glance at the cracked mirror, willing Daphne to appear and explain what the Blazes is going on. The broom dusts the edges of the mirror for the hundredth time. He’s figured out Daphne is still trapped somewhere inside it.

“I’ll accompany you,” Nash decides. We’ve agreed one of us will be with her at all times. She might not be our Daphne, but she is walking around wearing her flesh.

“No need. I can find the kitchen,” the imposter says.

Yet another clue this is not Daphne. She couldn’t find her way out of a paper bag.

“It’s for your protection, Daphne,” Nash says, standing and striding to the door.

She huffs and jumps to her feet, swinging the sharp sword over her shoulder. Hart grumbles as he dodges the pointy end of Excalibur, while the capons cluck unhappily at his feet. They appear to have adopted him in Daphne’s absence.

She glances over her shoulder at him and winks. “Sorry, I’m a menace with this weapon.”

“Don’t accidentally stab anyone,” Malachi says as he strolls out of his chambers, looking relaxed. However, he’s anything but.

She grins at him. “Don’t be daft, Mali. I would never slice someone by accident.”

Mali? He blinks but accepts the ridiculous nickname Daphne would never use. Also, we all know that it’s a minor miracle to get through a diurnal without her stabbing someone.

The door clicks closed behind them, and we all let out a sigh, shoulders slumping in relief. It’s hard work pretending to like someone.

Gwyneth holds her hand up before anyone breaks the silence. She tilts her head toward the door. “Someone check we are alone.”

Malachi obliges, opening the door and sticking his head outside before closing it again. “All clear,” he declares.

“What have you found?” Hart demands.

Gwyneth shakes her head. “Nothing, but now we know the name of the land we are trying to reach. Perhaps I could gain some insight into who she is.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” I say. “I’ve never heard of Wonderland. If it’s a separate world, then it may be missing from our documentation.”

“She stepped out of the Land of Reflection, so perhaps the mirror man will have more insight,” Gwyneth says.

The genie poofs into existence. “Is she gone?”

“Temporarily,” I tell him.

He rubs his forehead. “I can’t be in the same room as her without giving away that I know she’s not who she appears to be.”

“That’s okay, dude. We’ve got this,” Malachi tells him.

The capons cluck in agreement, and the magic broom stands next to the door like a sentinel.

The mirror’s surface ripples, and the person we’ve been waiting for appears. He glances around the room. “Where is she?”

“Daphne? I was hoping she is with you,” Gwyneth says.

There’s a slight wobble in her voice for the first time.

I understand—we’ve been holding on to the hope that Daphne is simply trapped in the Land of Reflection.

The thought that he doesn’t know where she is, or who is wearing her body, makes my dragon rise once more.

“She is with me,” the mirror man says. My chest eases, and the creature I house settles.

“Can we see her?” Gwyneth asks.

The mirror man shakes his head. “Not possible. Only mirror people capable of reflecting have that privilege.”

That makes sense; they can’t have just anyone claiming such a role. They do, after all, have unfiltered access to many of our private areas.

“She says you better not have kissed her again,” the mirror man declares. All eyes turn to Hart. “What? No, I can’t say that. They didn’t know. Fine.”

“What is she saying?” Malachi asks as he perches on the table between the sofas and leans forward.

The mirror man blushes. Idols, what has our pretty mouse said to make him turn pink?

“Daphne says that the grumpy one is in big trouble, and when she gets out of here, she is going to need him to grovel in her annus.”

Gwyneth snorts and slaps a hand over her mouth.

“She’s with you now?” I check.

“Yes, and she can hear and see you,” the mirror man tells us. He glances behind him. “I said it correctly—grovel in your annus. Why are you laughing? Also, I won the bet. They totally know it’s not you.”

“How can we get her back?” Malachi asks.

The mirror man jerks his head toward us. “Where is Malice?”

“That’s who the imposter is?” Gwyneth checks as she frowns and scribbles a note down in her book using that pretty quill the living library gifted her.

“Yes, a horrid creature that should have long since faded from memory.”

“We toyed with getting her to give one of us the sword,” I tell him. “Would that work?”

The mirror man nods along. “Yes, it would surely end Malice. But I am unsure if it would also doom Daphne’s flesh to that fate.”

“Told you,” Gwyneth grumbles. “Sometimes I hate being right.”

“Then we don’t risk it,” Hart says.

“Bringing us back to how to get Daphne back,” I say.

The mirror man’s forehead wrinkles. “If you can get Malice to touch the mirror, unsuspecting, I should be able to drag her back and force Daphne out.”

Hart’s mouth curls into a grin, one that promises violence and wrath. “Easy.”

Okay, then.

“Where is she?” the mirror man asks. “Daphne wants to know.”

“Out collecting carrots with Nash,” Malachi says.

The mirror man’s eyebrows rise. “Daphne says that better not be a metaphor.”

A rumble of laughter comes up from my chest. I miss her being here. She makes the diurnal brighter and the sundown sultry. She makes my heart race when she enters a room, and my mouth water with her scent filling the air.

“No metaphors, Calamity,” Hart reassures her. “Get back to us.”

The mirror man nods. “Oh, Gwyneth, Prince Poopfloof wants to express he misses you and is prepared to grovel into your annus.”

Gwyneth’s mouth flops open as her eyes go wide.

“Wait, Charming is in the Land of Reflection?” I ask. How and why?

“Yes, he made a deal with one of my subjects,” the mirror man says.

One of his subjects?

“I’m confused about why he followed Daphne in there. If he means her harm, no amount of annus groveling will solve the hole I plan to put in his chest,” Gwyneth snaps.

“No, he thought it was you in here,” the mirror man informs us.

“Could you not keep him? He’s a pain in our annus,” Malachi begs, making me chuckle.

“Apologies, but no. Poopfloof must return to your world. I have enough problems with vanity—there’s no room here for his colossal ego,” the mirror man says. “I shall prepare while we wait for Malice to reappear. Make sure her back is to the mirror. That way, she won’t suspect a thing.”

“Got it,” Gwyneth mutters as he disappears. “What’s the plan?”

I look at my brothers. One of us needs to deceive Malice and overcome her to guide her to the mirror. Malachi is the easy-going one, but like Daphne, he wears his heart on his sleeve.

Hart catches my gaze and he nods with a grimace. “The plan is for you guys to make yourselves scarce. Leave Malice to me, and I’ll have Daphne back within two tempos.”

Gwyneth glances at the mirror and drags her teeth over her bottom lip. “You can handle it?” she checks, her face paling as Daphne’s emotionless laughter echoes down the hallway.

“The next time you see Daphne’s body, she will be my Calamity once more,” Hart declares.

I hope for everyone’s sake that’s the truth, because my dragon is two breaths of fire away from torching the Hallows.