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Her lips twitched at the familiar lullaby, though Jest had slowed down the cadence so the song was more like a serenade. His voice was confident, yet quiet. Strong, but not overpowering.

“ How I wonder what you’re ”—he tapped a finger onto the brim of the spinning hat so it flipped top to bottom—“ at. ”

A flurry of bats burst upward. Catherine ducked as they swarmed through the room. Their squeaks filled the shop with bedlam, their wings close enough to tease Cath’s hair without touching her skin.

Jest’s voice cut through the ruckus. “ Up above the world, so high…”

The bats turned into a cyclone, encircling the room so the table was in the eye of a living storm. The cyclone began to tighten, closing in around Jest. Soon, he could no longer be seen beyond the mass of beating, squealing, pressing bodies. Tighter and tighter.

Catherine’s chest constricted as the tornado of bats turned as one and streamed toward an open window—leaving behind Hatta’s top hat sitting crookedly against a teapot, and no sign of Jest .

Her heart was pounding. Whispers began to pass up and down the table. Guests checked under the table and beneath the top hat and even in the teapots, but Jest had vanished.

“The nerve of him, to abandon you thus. At my mercy, no less.”

She glanced at Hatta.

Setting his teacup on its saucer, he winked at her. “Jest has always had a weakness for riddles.”

Brushing back the hair that had been tossed around by the bats, Cath did her best not to show how nervous the Hatter made her. “Have you known each other a long time?”

“Many years, love. I would try to count how many, but I’m so far into Time’s debt, I would doubtlessly count them wrong.”

She furrowed her brow. “Is that a riddle?”

“If you wish it to be.”

Unsure how to respond, Cath reached for a teacup, but found it filled with mother-of-pearl buttons. She set it back. “Jest told a riddle at the ball,” she said. “It was, ‘Why is a raven like a writing desk?’”

The Hatter guffawed, throwing his head back. “Not that one! Sometimes I wonder if he’s even trying.”

“I didn’t realize it was an old riddle. No one at the ball seemed to know it, and we were all amused by the answer.”

“With due respect, my lady, the gentry are not known for their inability to be amused.”

She supposed he was right—for the King most of all. But the way Hatta said it made it sound like a fault that should be shameful, and she wasn’t sure if she agreed.

“Tell me, which answer did he give?” asked Hatta.

“Pardon?”

“Why is a raven like a writing desk?”

“Oh—because they each produce a few notes, though they tend to be very flat.” She was proud of herself for remembering, so caught in the performance had she been. “He covered the ballroom in confetti. Little paper notes, all with charming designs.”

Hatta twirled the cane. “I always preferred the answer: because they both have quills dipped in ink.”

Cath was surprised to find that the riddle, which had seemed impossible to answer when she’d first heard it, could have two such fitting solutions. She glanced at Raven, who had buried his face beneath one black wing, apparently asleep.

“That answer would have made quite a mess of the ballroom,” she said.

Hatta stirred a spoonful of sugar into his cup, the spoon clinking loud against the ceramic. “I suppose you’re right. I’ve been working on a riddle myself of late. Would you like to hear it?”

“Very much so.”

He tapped the spoon on the cup’s rim and set it on the saucer. “When pleased, I beat like a drum. When sad, I break like glass. Once stolen, I can never be taken back. What am I?”

She thought for a long moment before venturing, “A heart?”

Hatta’s eyes warmed. “Very acute, Lady Pinkerton.”

“It’s very good,” she said, “although I wonder whether it wouldn’t be more accurate to say, ‘Once given , I can never be taken back.’”

“That would imply we give our hearts away willingly, and I am not sure that is the case. Perhaps we should ask Jest when he returns. I daresay he’s the expert.” He pulled a gold pocket watch from his waistcoat. “He doesn’t usually disappear this long. Perhaps he was already tired of your company.”

Cath bristled, sure now that he was trying to provoke her, though she couldn’t imagine why. Clenching her fists beneath the table, she scanned the guests again. Most had gone back to their conversations. “‘Twinkle, Twinkle’ is a lullaby,” she said. “Not a riddle. ”

“How does it end? I can’t remember.”

She hummed through the song again. “… like a tea tray in the sky. ”

Hatta snapped his fingers. “Haigha! Tea tray! Sky!”

The Hare, who had removed the floral bonnet, peeled back his enormous ears and gawked at Hatta.

Then he hopped up from the table fast as a gunshot and grabbed a tea tray, dumping off a pile of crustless sandwiches, and rushed to an open window.

Within moments, all the other guests—excepting Catherine and Hatta—had tossed aside their chairs and teacups to gather around him.

Catherine craned her head, thinking it wouldn’t be ladylike to be jostled in with all those strangers…

“Oh, hogswaddle,” she muttered, pushing away from the table and joining the crowd at the window.

Haigha tossed the tea tray—it spun out into the forest and disappeared into the night.

They waited.

Somewhere outside, they heard the clatter of the tea tray falling through tree boughs and thumping back down to the ground.

Breaths were held.

No one spoke.

The Dormouse yawned and shifted in the Lion’s mane, turning to curl up on his other side.

“What are you all looking for?”

Catherine spun back to the table.

Jest was sitting to Hatta’s right, holding a half-eaten biscuit in one hand and a teacup in the other.

The crowd cheered, whistles filling the shop.

With his gaze on Catherine, Jest smiled, and Cath’s heart joined it. She tried to keep the humor from her face as she planted her hands on her hips and faced him across the table. “Hatta was right,” she reprimanded. “It was terribly rude to abandon me so. ”

Jest licked a crumb from the corner of his mouth. “I knew you’d figure it out.”

The Hatter grunted, taking his top hat back from the Boa Constrictor, who had fetched it from the table’s center.

“Let’s not make a prodigy of the lady, when all she did was recite a child’s lullaby.

” Grabbing his cane, he smacked it three times on the floor and yelled, “Who out of you lousy bunch wants to follow our joker? Move down! ”