Page 47 of Madness Becomes Her

“You don’t want to be rescued?”

“Of course, I do. Would you want to live in the Red Queen’s dungeons?”

I’m very confused, so I keep my lips sealed.

“We have little time. I’ll leave you a chunk of this cookie, and if you want to come with me, come with me. I can’t force you.”

Eating my own bite, I shrink to the small size I was before, awaiting Penelope’s help to get back into the pot.

Whenever I’m lifted and dropped back inside, I hasten to get the next dress Hatter left for me on. It’s purple this time and fits like a glove.

“I still think you’re the wrong Eleanor, but I thank you for your help today,” Prospero says from behind me, and I scream, turning and clutching my chest.

“You scared me.”

“I have that effect.” He puffs his pipe, smoke filling the teapot as we’re carried back upstairs on a tray.

Will this world ever feel normal?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

WHERE THERE’S RED, THERE’S WHITE

Our escape is nearly over when the sound of hounds rends the air. Finlo looks over his shoulder, worry spreading on his beautiful face.

Lewis grinds his teeth. “Oh, no. The Queen’s Hounds.

Prospero isn’t with us, but if she realizes we took him, what price will we pay?

“Where did Prospero go?” I ask them.

We keep walking, hastening only slightly at the sound of the hounds.

“Wherever he goes,” Finlo answers in a riddle.

“It feels strange to have freed a creature who disappeared right after,” I mutter, to which neither of them replies.

The more we walk, the further away the sounds of the hounds get, and I’m thankful.

The trees on the way back to Hatter’s place are close to the road, and I swear I hear one of them moan when I get too close.

Finlo snatches the back of my new yellow dress and puts me in front of him without saying a word.

“Prospero is a creature that cannot be contained, lest it cause damage to Wonderland. The queen knows that and should never have touched him,” a voice says as a hound steps out of the woods to our right, stopping us in our tracks.

“Winston,” Finlo replies, bowing his head. “How are you, old chap?”

Even though Finlo seems to know the hound, I inch closer to Lewis, grabbing his paw in my hand for comfort. Lewis smiles up at me. “He’s one of us,” he whispers.

One of us?

The statement strikes me oddly.

“I’ve been alright. Keeping a low profile in the palace isn’t easy. You would know that, though,” Winston replies.

“I do,” Finlo answers. “Your family is alright?”

“They are.”