Page 46

H ATTA ’ S M ARVELOUS M ILLINERY had returned to its spot in the forest meadow, the little ramshackle cart in the shadow of broad, leafy trees.

But when Jest had brought Catherine before, the lane in between the Crossroads and the hat shop had been empty—abandoned in the dead of night in a secluded corner of the kingdom.

Not so anymore.

Catherine passed more than a dozen patrons of the shop on their way back to the Crossroads. Birds and mammals and reptiles, all with smiles on their faces and elaborate hats on their heads, some with servants dragging along in their wake, carrying yet more brightly papered hat boxes.

The Hatter’s popularity was expanding like a hot-air balloon.

An OPEN sign hung on the shop door, crisp with newness. The window that the Jabberwock had broken had been replaced.

Cath entered without knocking. A pair of Owls were standing before a mirror, trying on different hats and hooting to themselves, but otherwise the shop was empty.

It looked much as it had at the beach, only the long table was back, now covered with tools and supplies for shaping and felting and ornamenting a variety of headdresses.

Not only shears and thread and ribbon and lace, but also the strange little ornamentations that Hatta was becoming known for: soft-worn chips of blue and green sea glass.

Fish scales. Talons. Long, sharp teeth—she didn’t know from what creatures.

Assorted seashells. Still-sticky honeycomb.

Dandelion tufts and huckleberry branches and white bark peeled from a birch tree.

There was a curtained doorway at the back that Catherine was sure hadn’t been there the first two times she’d been in the shop. She approached it and knocked softly.

“You can pay the money tree out front for your purchases,” came Hatta’s tired-sounding reply.

Steeling herself, Catherine pulled aside the curtain, revealing a small, cluttered office and Hatta with his feet thrown up onto a desk.

“I am not here to make a purchase,” she said.

His eyes lifted and there was a quick and deep down-turn of his mouth. “Lady Pinkerton,” he drawled, “I wish I could say this is a pleasant surprise.”

Catherine shouldered through the curtain. “Good day to you, too, Hatta. I didn’t realize you’d gone back to disliking me.”

“What do you want? I’m busy.”

“Would you like me to come back later?”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

A twitch started above her left eyebrow. “I’m not sure what I’ve done to earn your ire this time, but I’ve come with a proposal for you, Hatta.”

He guffawed. “A proposal! My, my, you capricious thing. How many men do you intend to attach yourself to?”

Her shoulders tensed. “So it’s the King’s proclamation that has you turned against me?”

“I apologize, Your Ladyship ,” he spat, “but you are not the Queen yet, and I have no time to entertain your whimsies. As you see, I’m working.”

He did not at all look like he was working, but Cath bit back the accusation. “I am not engaged to the King, whatever you might think—”

He snorted .

“And even if I were, it would be no one’s business but mine and His Majesty’s. You have no place to criticize.”

“No one’s business but yours and His Majesty’s and the hapless chap that would twist himself into knots to impress you. But then, I suppose Jest willingly took the role of amusing plaything for the King’s court, so why should you treat him any differently?”

Her heart throbbed. “Jest was there when the King asked to court me. I’ve kept nothing from him, so I don’t see why you should take offense. Now, if you can stand to be civil for a moment, I came to speak with you about your business. I need only a minute of your time.”

“You wouldn’t believe how few minutes I have left to spare.” Hatta swung his feet down from the desk. “Besides, my business is mine alone, Lady Pinkerton. I bid you good day.”

She ground her teeth, trying to bury her growing annoyance. “As I said, I’ve come with a propo—proposition for you, and I believe a savvy businessman would hear me out.”

His lavender eyes burned with more disdain than Catherine could ever recall having directed at her. “You could be offering me the King’s crown itself and I would not wish to hear a word of it.”

Red spots flickered in her vision. “I’ve done nothing to earn such disrespect.”

“You are not playing by the correct rules!” he yelled, slamming his fist on his desk so hard Catherine jumped.

Hatta inhaled sharply and turned his face away. Reeling in his temper, or perhaps embarrassed that his madness—that hated family trait—was beginning to show.

Catherine swallowed and proceeded, more cautiously, “I did not realize we were playing a game, sir.”

He took in a few long breaths before he said, “No, it is not a game. I spoke with little consideration for the reality of the situation.” He cleared his throat and peered up at her again.

Some of the anger had cleared from his face.

“You are going to marry the King, Lady Pinkerton, and I shall wish you all the happiness in the world. I am only ashamed to have been party to your feigned interest in my friend. All those smiles and flirtations, and all the while you had your eye set on a crown? Quite the step up from a hat that jingles, I’ll give you that. ”

“I am not—” She paused. Digging her nails into her palms, she continued, calmer, “I feigned nothing with Jest, but as I said, that is all between Jest and the King and me and has nothing at all to do with you.”

“He is my oldest and dearest friend.” Hatta glared at her, making Cath feel like a weed to be plucked. “I do not wish to see him hurt.”

Her face was burning, self-loathing pulsing against her temple, when her eye fell on a bowler hat on the corner of Hatta’s desk, wrapped with green ribbon. “What is that doing here?”

Hatta’s gaze dropped and one eyebrow had shot up when he looked at her again. “In case you had not noticed, I make hats.”

Shaking her head, she reached for the bowler cap, but Hatta batted her away. She frowned. “That’s the Turtle’s hat, the one he was wearing when he… when… during the festival.”

“How observant you are.”

She stared at him. Waiting.

He stared back.

Catherine lifted her chin. “Did this hat have something to do with the tragic thing that happened?”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“You know precisely what I’m talking about! Did this hat… Hatta, are your hats dangerous?”

“Dangerous! Bah!” His tone was scathing, harsh with ridicule.

But a moment later he was marching around the desk and into the main showroom and shooing away the two Owls.

Upon seeing the look in his eyes, they were quick to flutter out the door without complaint, and Hatta swung around the sign to read CLOSED .

He slammed the door shut and stormed back to the office. Catherine had not moved.

“Am I right?” she continued. “Your hats… they change people, don’t they?”

“You have no idea what you’re speaking of.” A careless flick of his fingers enraged Catherine further.

“Then explain it to me.”

He chortled. “My, my. I cannot recall the last time I was thus ordered around. What a fine queen you will make.”

“I am not going to be the Queen!” she yelled, and relished a spark of pride when the Hatter jumped at her raised voice. She continued with chilling composure, “The King has not proposed, but should he, I have every intention of rejecting him.”

He gawked at her, disbelief written sharp across his features. “I don’t believe that.”

“Believe what you will, but stop changing the subject. These hats—Mary Ann’s bonnet makes her capable of bigger dreams, and Margaret was certainly changed when she was wearing that rose, and now the Turtle… that darling Turtle…”

“The Mock Turtle, you mean. Call him what he is.”

“He was a real turtle before he put on that!” She gestured to the bowler hat. “How can you be so callous? If this was your doing—”

“The hat had nothing to do with his transformation. I only have it because he came to me this morning asking for my help. I tried my best to assist him, but he was beyond my reach. Wretched creature he’s become, but not yet desperate enough.”

“You were going to give him a different hat to change him back?”

He waved his arm through the air. “You misunderstand completely, but it’s no business of yours. ”

“But your hats do change people. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I’ve felt it. They’re dangerous, Hatta. You have to stop!”

Their gazes warred with each other, a heady silence punctuated with the drum of Cath’s heartbeat.

Hatta looked away first. Rounding back to his seat, he collapsed into it and folded his hands over his stomach.

“My hats are not dangerous, and I will not have you spreading such damning rumors.” His lips thinned.

“But they are special. They are unique from any other hats found in the great Kingdom of Hearts, and as I told you before, I come from a long line of very fine hatters.”

“I’m not interested in solicitations.”

“You asked a question. I’m answering it.”

“I wish you would do it in fewer words.”

He smirked. “Yes. Fine. They change people. They improve them. But that does not mean this hat was at fault for the Mock Turtle. Satisfied?”

“Not at all. How are you doing it?”

“I don’t do anything. I only make my creations from… unique materials.”

“Unique in what way?”

He studied her for a long time and she began to doubt he would answer the question, before he finally said, “The materials with which my hats are crafted all come from the lands of the Red and White Queens.”

A shiver skittered down her back. “Of course. You’re from Chess, like Jest and Raven.”

His eyes narrowed. “He told you that?”

“Yes. Because he trusts me.” Her voice had an edge, and she could see the jolt of annoyance that flashed over Hatta’s features.