Page 12 of Knot My Wonderland, Part Two (Fairytale Omegaverse #2)

The servant—a card soldier with features that shifted unnervingly between human and playing card—poured a ruby liquid into our goblets. It moved with unnatural viscosity, catching the firelight like fresh blood. The Queen lifted her glass, ruby eyes watching me over the rim with predatory patience.

"Drink," she commanded, her voice resonating with Alpha authority that made the collar tighten against my throat.

I hesitated, fingers trembling as I reached for the goblet. Through our weakening bond, I felt Heart's presence surge again—closer now, his determination burning like a beacon in the crimson fog. Something was happening. He was coming for me.

"You seem distracted," the Queen observed, her perfect lips curving into a smile that never reached her eyes. "Perhaps you're feeling him? My son, drawing closer like the predictable, emotional fool he's always been."

I froze, the goblet halfway to my lips. The Queen's smile widened, satisfaction gleaming in her ruby eyes.

"Oh yes, I know he's coming. Did you think I wouldn't anticipate his desperate rescue attempt?" She took a delicate sip from her own goblet, the liquid leaving a faint stain on her perfect lips. "In fact, I'm counting on it. The pattern transfer works best when all parties are present."

My heart sank, the brief flicker of hope extinguished by her casual revelation. She had known all along, had planned for this. The goblet felt heavier in my hand, the ruby liquid catching firelight in hypnotic patterns.

"Drink," she repeated, her voice softer but carrying that unmistakable Alpha resonance that made the collar pulse against my throat.

I lifted the goblet to my lips, stalling as my mind raced through dwindling options.

If Heart was walking into a trap, if this was all orchestrated to capture him as well, then my resistance might be the only thing standing between the Red Queen and complete victory.

The liquid touched my lips, metallic and warm, tasting of copper pennies and dying roses.

"That's it," the Queen purred, watching as I forced myself to swallow.

The second dose hit my system like liquid fire, spreading through my veins with aggressive heat that made the first tonic feel gentle by comparison.

"Much better. This one will help you understand your place more. .. permanently. "

The collar flared against my throat, its carved patterns glowing with crimson light as the new concoction interfaced with its enchantments.

I gasped, my vision blurring as the dining hall seemed to tilt and spin around me.

The mirror columns reflected infinite versions of myself, each one growing paler and more translucent as I watched.

"The beauty of the second dose," the Queen continued, her voice echoing strangely as the tonic spread through my system, "is how it reveals truth beneath illusion. Look at yourself, Alice. Really look."

I turned toward the nearest mirrored column, unable to resist her command.

My reflection stared back, but something was different.

The silver and gold patterns beneath my skin were fading, receding like tide marks on sand.

In their place, crimson lines began to spread—delicate at first, then more pronounced, matching the threading in my dress.

"You're becoming what you were always meant to be," the Queen said, rising from her seat to circle behind me. Her fingers brushed my shoulders, sending shivers of revulsion through me despite the unnatural heat coursing through my veins. "My daughter in more than just title."

"No," I whispered, the word barely audible even to my own ears.

The Queen's laughter was soft, almost maternal.

"Your protests grow weaker with each passing hour.

Soon they'll fade entirely, like echoes in an empty room.

" Her fingers traced the collar at my throat, sending waves of numbing cold through my consciousness.

"The crimson lines spreading beneath your skin —those are the beginnings of blood magic integration.

Your body is learning to channel my power instead of that crude pattern you've been clinging to. "

I tried to focus on Heart's presence through our bond, but it felt increasingly distant, muffled by layers of magical interference. The golden thread that had once burned bright in my chest now flickered like a dying star, overwhelmed by the crimson corruption spreading through my system.

Through the crimson haze, I fought to remember Aldric's words about memory being my anchor.

I closed my eyes and reached for the moment I'd first felt the pattern respond—not the power, but the choice.

The instant I'd decided to trust Heart despite every instinct screaming danger.

The way Chi had looked at me with genuine concern, not calculation.

These memories felt solid even as everything else dissolved into red-tinged fog.

"Fighting again?" The Queen's voice carried amusement as she resumed her seat. "How exhausting it must be, clinging to connections that grow weaker by the hour."

I opened my eyes, forcing myself to meet her gaze despite the way the room swayed around me. "They're not... connections. They're choices. I choose them."

Something flickered across her perfect features—surprise, perhaps, or irritation. "Choice," she repeated, as if the word itself were offensive. "Such a limited perspective. What is choice but the illusion of control? In the end, we all submit to something greater—power, necessity, fate."

She lifted her goblet again, watching me over the rim with calculating eyes. The ruby liquid caught the firelight, pulsing with a rhythm that matched the collar around my throat.

"Your Heart and your Cheshire will arrive soon," she continued, her voice deceptively gentle. "And they will find a trap centuries in the making. Guards positioned at every entrance. Blood magic wards keyed specifically to their magical signatures.”

She leaned forward, her ruby eyes capturing mine with hypnotic intensity. "The pattern you carry was never truly yours. It was merely... waiting. Seeking its rightful vessel." Her perfect lips curved into a smile that made my blood run cold. "Me."

The second dose of tonic burned through my system, each pulse sending waves of disorientation deeper into my consciousness.

The dining hall seemed to stretch and contract around us, reality itself bending to the Queen's will.

Through the crimson fog, I felt Heart's presence grow stronger—not just closer, but more focused, as if he'd somehow found a way to strengthen our bond despite the Queen's interference.

The realization that he was fighting back against whatever was weakening our connection gave me a spark of defiance. I straightened in my chair, drawing on that distant warmth even as the crimson corruption spread beneath my skin.

"You're wrong," I said, my voice gaining strength despite the tonic's effects. "The pattern didn't choose me as a placeholder. It chose me because I understand what you never will."

The Queen's perfect composure cracked slightly, irritation flashing in her ruby eyes. "And what is that, dear child?"

"That love isn't possession." The words came easier now, fueled by the growing pulse of Heart's determination through our bond. "You lost your daughter, and instead of honoring her memory, you're trying to replace her. But love doesn't work that way."

The Queen's goblet shattered in her grip, ruby liquid and crystal fragments scattering across the table like splattered blood. The temperature in the room plummeted, chandeliers of living flame dimming as her rage manifested in waves of frigid power.

"You know nothing of love," she hissed, her perfect facade cracking to reveal something ancient and terrible beneath. "Nothing of sacrifice. I watched my daughter waste away day by day, helpless to save her while Wonderland itself turned its back on us."

She rose from her chair in a single fluid motion, her gown billowing around her like a storm cloud. The crimson threading in my dress responded to her fury, tightening against my skin until breathing became difficult.

"You speak of choice?" she continued, circling the table with predatory grace.

"I chose to save Wonderland even after it betrayed me.

I chose to reshape reality rather than surrender to grief.

And now—" her hand shot out, gripping my chin making me look her in the eyes to see the look of bloodthirsty and a spark of haywire emotions.

“Your daughter wouldn't want this," I interrupted her, knowing this could be a bad decision, “Rosalind wouldn’t…”

"DO NOT SPEAK HER NAME!" The Queen's voice cracked through the chamber like a whip, the chandeliers flaring crimson as her rage manifested in waves of magical energy. The collar at my throat tightened painfully, responding to her fury. "You have no right to her memory. No right!"

Her fingers dug into my jaw with bruising force. Through the crimson haze clouding my vision, I saw something I hadn't expected—tears. Actual tears glistening in those ruby eyes, though they evaporated before falling, turned to steam by the heat of her rage.

"My Rosalind was everything you are not," she continued, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Obedient. Dutiful. She understood the responsibilities of royalty."

"Is that why you're trying to replace her?" I managed, despite the collar's constriction. "With someone who'll never question your choices? Never challenge your methods?"

The Queen's grip tightened, her nails drawing thin lines of blood along my jawline. The crimson threading in my dress pulsed brighter, feeding on the spilled blood like a living thing.

"Rosalind questioned nothing because she trusted me," the Queen snarled.

"As a daughter should. As you will learn to do once the cleansing is complete.

" Through our weakening bond, I felt Heart's presence surge with protective fury—he could sense my pain, my fear, even through the magical interference.

The golden thread connecting us flickered but held, strengthened by his determination to reach me.

"She trusted you," I gasped, "but would she love what you became after she died?"

The Queen's hand flew back as if to strike me, then froze midair.

For a moment, something human flickered across her perfect features—grief so profound it seemed to age her centuries in an instant.

Her hand trembled in the air between us, caught between violence and something that might have been recognition.

"She would understand," the Queen whispered, but her voice lacked conviction. "She would see that everything I've done was to honor her memory."

"Would she?" I pressed, tasting blood where her nails had broken skin. "Or would she be horrified by the torture, the corruption, the innocent people you've destroyed in her name?"

The Queen's composure shattered completely. She staggered backward, her perfect facade crumbling as centuries of suppressed grief erupted to the surface. The dining hall trembled around us, crystal goblets cracking, the living flames in the chandeliers flickering wildly.

"You don't know," she sobbed, her voice raw with anguish.

"You don't know what it's like to watch your child die while magic itself abandons you.

To hold her hand as she begged me to make the pain stop, and I—" Her voice broke entirely, the admission torn from somewhere deep and wounded.

"I couldn't save her. The greatest blood mage in Wonderland's history, and I couldn't save my own daughter. "

The raw pain in her voice made something twist in my chest despite everything she'd done to me. Through the crimson fog, I saw her not as the terrifying Red Queen, but as a mother destroyed by loss, twisted into something monstrous by grief that had never been allowed to heal.

"She was supposed to rule beside me," the Queen continued, her voice cracking. "We had plans. I was teaching her the old magics, the ones that could heal as well as harm. But the plague... it consumed magic itself. The stronger the wielder, the faster it spreads."

I felt the collar's grip loosen slightly as her control wavered.

"She was perfect," the Queen whispered, her voice breaking. "My beautiful Rose. She would have ruled with wisdom and compassion, everything I failed to be. And the plague took her anyway. Wonderland took her from me."

I felt a flicker of genuine sympathy despite everything she'd done to me, to others. The grief radiating from her was overwhelming—centuries of pain compressed into a single moment, raw and bleeding like a fresh wound.

"I'm sorry for your loss," I said quietly, meaning it despite everything. "But this isn't the way to honor her memory."

The Queen's head snapped up, her ruby eyes blazing with renewed fury. "You think I want your pity?" She straightened, her perfect composure returning like a mask sliding back into place. "I want your submission. Your pattern. Your place in my design."

The dining hall stabilized around us, the trembling walls settling as she regained control. With a gesture, she summoned another goblet, filling it with the same ruby liquid from a decanter that materialized at her command.

"Enough sentiment," she said, her voice cold and controlled once more. "Take her back to her room. Let the tonic work its way and we shall see how things go. I will prepare for my son’s arrival and you can feel him die through your bond. Then we can speak of loss together.”

The words hit me like physical blows. Through the golden thread, I felt Heart's presence burning brighter—not just determination now, but desperate urgency. He was close. Too close to whatever trap she'd prepared.

"No," I whispered, the word barely audible through the collar's constriction. "You won't hurt him."

The Queen's perfect lips curved into a smile that held no warmth.

"I won't need to hurt him, dear child. He'll walk willingly into my web, driven by his pathetic need to save you.

" She gestured, and Captain Aldric appeared from the shadows, his frozen-blood eyes carefully neutral.

"Take her back. Ensure she's comfortable for the night. "

Aldric moved to my side, his touch surprisingly gentle as he helped me stand.

My legs trembled beneath me, the second dose of tonic making coordination nearly impossible as he led me away.

My emotions were everywhere as I felt tears in my eyes that I wouldn't let fall. I had to hope that there was a plan when Heart came…and that him coming here didn’t end in his death…

because if he died, I would never forgive myself.