Page 13 of Madness Becomes Her

It has the entire table in an uproar, one that costs us more tarts.

I pocket a few for later, feeling like a child hiding her sweets, but I don’t know how much longer they’ll last or how many more conversations will go left before the entire table is flipped.

“The queen is a rotten old…”

“Bonnie!” Hatter says, cutting her off.

“I wasn’t going to say it. Besides, Eleanor is a grown woman now. She knows a bitch when she sees one, don’t you?”

I grin, fighting a laugh because Hatter looks like he’s going to have a coronary. “I do.”

“See. She agrees with me.”

“This queen, she lives near here?”

“Two cities march from here,” Lewis says, his furry finger pointing toward where I encountered the naked man yesterday.

I swallow. “Does she come here?”

“No.” Hatter’s stern voice quiets all the chaos around the table, and I sit taller in my chair.

“You don’t remember her?” a small voice says, and I turn to catch the eyes of a small goblin-like creature to my left.

“No, I don’t. Not yet. Things have been… coming back to me. I can’t assure you that everything will come back entirely. I remember tea time, though.”

She grins widely.

“How old was I the last time I came?” I ask the table, hoping someone will give me a guide to travel through my mind.

“Years fifteen,” Bonnie answers backwardly, making me smile.

Fifteen years old.

That’s when they kicked me out.

When I was told to leave.

My heart feels heavy for the rest of the party, but I revel in all the mad frivolity for a bit longer before leaving them to it and heading inside to bed.

I don’t hear Hatter come in, but I feel his presence behind me when he snuggles closer.

“Was it frightful here without me?”

“Positively horrible.”

His arm comes around me, and I close my eyes. Sinking into my memories during sleep is the only way I’m going to remember, so instead of avoiding my dreams, I lean into them.

CHAPTER FOUR

WE’RE ALL MAD HERE

“Isaid she’s not going! She doesn’t even have a hat!” Hatter’s loud shouts rouse me from a positively fantastic slumber.

“No hat? She’s been here long enough. What are you waiting for? You’re going to be late, Hatter!”

Lewis. That’s Lewis’s voice. Slipping into a pair of Hatter’s sleep pants, I knot them at my waist and fold them at the ankle hems.

Pushing out the door, my feet pad down the uneven wood floors to the living room. “Good morning.”