 
## **Contents**

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

About the Author

Copyright Page
Books by Lotus Rose

More info at loteyrose.com

The Corruption of Innocence, The Doll Queen, Poniworld Chronicles, Faerie Brace-Face Trilogy

Twisted Holiday Specials

SinEaster

Merry XXXmas, Charlee Frown

BlackHearts Day

Gothic Lolita Series

Gothic Lolita

Gothic Lolita 2: Heirloom

Gothic Lolita 3: Pageant

Malice in Wonderland Saga

Malice in Wonderland Prequel

Malice in Wonderland #1: Alice the Assassin

Malice in Wonderland #2: Alice the Angel of Death

Malice In Wonderland #3: Alice the Girl Who Will Tear Your Heart Out and Show It To You Before You Die

Malice Hates Fairy Tales Trilogy

Jabberwocky Trilogy

Jabberwocky Trilogy: Book One: Sing Me a Little-Girls-Goodbye

Description: The decapitated Jabberwock's head is still functional—he just needs a new body.

15-year-old Queen Malice wants to help her buddy, Jabby, as she likes to call him. And so she plans a quest to Jabberwock Valley, where most of the other jabberwocks live.

But Jabby isn't the only one they must help. Wonderland itself is in danger, because a creature known as the Snark threatens to reunite the monster tribes and revive a realm known as Woeland.

So Malice works on assembling a team. Of course, the Mad Hatter, Humpty, and the Cheshire Cat will tag along. But the Knight still has a crippling fear of little girls.

There are other complications.

11-year-old Sleeping Beauty wants to go on the quest as well. But most jabberwocks hate little girls. Jabberwock mothers even sing their babies "little-girls-goodbyes," which are like lullabies, except gorier.

Malice also struggles with the intoxicating effects of the black rose. She finds herself taking more of the flower each day, and it's becoming harder to stop.

Will they be able to thwart the Snark? And who is the mysterious "secret admirer" who sends Malice creepy notes via pigeon? And can she prove to the Knight that she no longer has any "little girlness" inside of her, by going through a series of the Knight's anti-little-girl challenges? Because it's the only way he'll join the team.

And they'll need a lot of help if they ever hope to stop the Snark and survive their journey to Jabberwock Valley.

Jabberwocky Trilogy: Book One: Sing Me a Little-Girls-Goodbye

Lotus Rose

CHAPTER ONE

Queen Malice makes her way between the small trees of the forest, clearing the path for the floating head of the Cheshire Cat following closely behind her.

Her mind is distracted, and a branch she'd sloppily pushed aside springs back into her face.

"Oh!" she exclaims. "Oh...bother! Stupid, rude tree appendage!"

She yowls and grabs the branch and breaks it off the tree. She repeatedly slaps the branch onto the ground while screaming at the top of her lungs and now tosses it as far as she can throw it.

The Cat lets out a surprised, "Mreeeoww!"

Malice turns around to see the Cat backing away with big wide eyes.

That only infuriates her more, because she knows what he's thinking.

He says, "You're not going to go on another rampage, are you?"

She puts her hand on her hip. "And what if I am? I mean, no, I'm not. I'm fine. My heart's still beating, after all." She can feel it thumping hard in her chest (though in a technical sense, it's actually more of a ticking). It's her ticktock heart—the mechanical heart the Tinkerer had given her, because she'd been "born" without a heart of her own when she'd started out as the twin 13-year-old version of the original Alice. The ticktock heart has kindness programming that kicks in to keep her from acting too vicious and heartless.

But lately the contraption hasn't been working as well as it used to.

"Yes," the Cat says. "It's still ticking, but is it working?"

Malice glowers at him, imagining that if she's quick enough she might be able to grab him and do some damage, but then of course he'd pull his vanishing act and teleport away.

"Queen?" he says.

But now the "good thoughts" from her heart finally blast into her mind.

Her scowl vanishes, replaced by a pleasant grin.

No, she thinks to herself, I shouldn't be cruel to the Cat. I should want to grab him so I can kiss him, not strangle him.

"Your heart's working now?" he says warily.

"See, I'm fine!" Malice blurts, trying to sound more confident than she feels. "The kindness programs are working splendidly. Aw, get over here, sweet puss, so I can rub under your chin?"

He shakes his floating head from side to side. "If it's all the same to you, Queeny, I'll wait until after your heart gets fixed."

If it gets fixed, Malice thinks. I just hope that Doctor Froud knows what he's doing during my appointment tomorrow. Because if he can't help me, the only one left around here who can, is the Queen of Hearts. And I absolutely refuse to go to her.

Malice makes a show of smoothing her gown of medium-poofiness, which is black in color, like usual, to match her hair. "Very well. Now, Sleepy B's hut..." Sleepy B is the 11-year-old girl, formerly known as Sleeping Beauty, to whom the Jabberwock has been assigned as a guard.

"I believe it's just past those trees. We're almost there. Let me look..." His head rises up above the tree tops. "Ah, there it is!" he shouts down, before descending again.

Malice grimaces. She's not exactly looking forward to getting there, because the purpose of her visit is to convince the Jabberwock to go to Jabberwock Valley in order to regain his vorpal blade and possibly get a new jabberwock body. He's been resistant to the idea, so Sleepy B had asked Malice to speak to him, thinking he might listen to her. Sleepy B had asked Malice to come alone, so he wouldn't feel ganged up on. So, Malice had left the Mad Hatter and Humpty behind. But the Cheshire Cat had simply decided to tag along—and trying to control the feline is simply too exhausting.

"Well let's get on with it," Malice mutters.

They arrive at the clearing. To the right of the hut, about thirty feet away, is a large, extravagant pillared mansion in an ancient Greek style, except the building seems to be made entirely of skulls and bones. It is the abode of the Lord Reginald's decapitated head, which used to be connected to the Headless Horseman body. Reginald is a necromancer who maintains a group of skeleton servant girls to attend to him.

The Jabberwock is standing guard in front of the hut's door.

But of course, the Jabberwock of today is a pale comparison to his past form—because today, the Jabberwock has no body of his own. Malice sees before her, the cape-wearing headless body of the Headless Horseman holding the decapitated head of the Jabberwock in one hand. The Jabberwock is currently renting the Horseman Body, which he can control with his mind. Of course the Jabberwock hadn't always been decapitated—he'd had his old body from before Alice arrived when she was 7 to when she turned 13 and chopped his head off. Malice had been 13 herself, a month ago, before she'd started fiddling around with a magic watch, and her body had been fast forwarded to age 15.

"Heya, Jabby!" Malice calls out while waving.

A big fangy smile comes across the Jabberwock's muzzled monster head. "Hello, Queen. And Cat! Greetings, my fellow bodyless head!"

"Greetings, Jabberwock. Chopped any intruders to bloody bits, yet?"

The Jabberwock says, "There haven't been any intruders to chop. Only visitors." He taps the tip of his sword's hilt in his scabbard. For a few days, he had been carrying the Knight's sword, but had recently returned it to him. Now the Jabberwock carries one of the random swords that had been lying around in the castle's armory.

Malice says, "Well, you're doing a good job. You look mighty strong and intimidating standing there." She pats his arm—technically it's the Headless Horseman's arm, but it's as good as the Jabberwock's own as long as he is borrowing and controlling it. "Oops," Malice says. "You can't even feel that, can you, sweety?"

"Fraid not, Queen, but it's the thought that counts." He raises his hand over her head, but thinks better of it.

"It's okay," she encourages, and he pats the top of her head—she's not even wearing her crown—she's been leaving it in her chambers more and more. "I want to talk to you about something in a little bit, but first I want to speak with Sleepy B. She's inside?"

"Yes, My Queen, and F-me Shoes as well..."

Malice sneers. "Well, of course she is."

No! I shouldn't hate her or be jealous of her! She has a good heart and it's not her fault she's so beautiful.

This is how she knows her ticktock heart is working: when she has to tolerate these goody-goody thoughts flooding into her mind. She's grateful the thoughts keep her under control, but they tend to make her act overly sappy sweet at times.

"Confounded heart," she mutters under her breath.

"What was that?" the Jabberwock says.

Malice shakes her head to clear it. "Sorry, just talking to myself. I'll go in now. Cat, you coming?"

The Cat answers, "I believe I shall stay out here for the moment, with my old bean the Jabberwock, if he doesn't mind."

"It's no bother," the Jabberwock says.

"Yes," the Cat says, through that creepily huge grin of his, "hopefully, an intruder shall come along who shall require a bit of 'adjustment' of the disemboweling sort."

"Ugh," Malice says. "Well, I'll leave you two to your guarding. It shall keep you out of my hair for a wee while, at least."

The Cat chuckles at that, and Malice enters the hut.

CHAPTER TWO

Malice looks over to one of the corners of the hut, where Sleepy B is lying in bed under a blanket. She sports her teased bleach blond hair and heavy black eyeliner.

The young woman named F-me Shoes is sitting next to her, naked as a jaybird as usual—well, she's wearing her usual red stiletto shoes, which most jaybirds wouldn't bother with. She has long brown hair, and has heavy eyeliner on as well—in fact, she'd been the one who'd taught Sleepy B how to do her eye makeup. F-me Shoes used to be one of the fairy tale beings named, Goody Two-Shoes, before all the fairy tale beings became twisted. Malice feels her negative feelings for the girl being counteracted by the ticktock heart.

Sleepy B looks over and grins, revealing her fake fangs. "Queen Malice! Finally you've arrived! I've been buttering Jabby up. He's sure to cave at any moment!" Malice finds herself wondering what Sleepy B is wearing—Malice had been nagging her to dress more respectably.

"Greetings, Sleepy B! Hey, you!" Malice calls, as she makes her way to the bed—there is a lot of clutter and furniture she has to navigate around—it must be difficult having to fit things in such a small, peasanty space. It's a definite step down for Sleepy B, who'd formerly lived in a castle. But of course, Sleepy B might not even know the difference, because before she was awoken just a few weeks ago, the poor girl had been asleep for years, being read stories by the Storyteller—her dream energy had kept the fairy tale beings alive within a different realm, known as Fairy Tale Land.

Malice stands at the bedside now, next to F-me Shoes, looking down at Sleepy B, who's tucked her entire body up to her chin under the covers. This, of course, is despite the fact that it's the middle of the day, and that Sleepy B managed to sleep so many years in the past, that she is incapable of actually falling asleep anymore. Yet still she craves constant bedtime stories—and since she'd fallen out with her father, she had to settle for any bedside storyteller she could get.

Hence...F-me Shoes.

"I think he'll listen to you," Sleepy B says from her blanket cocoon.

"Yeah," Malice says, while thinking. She looks over at F-me Shoes, who has an expression on her face like she just tasted something bad. Malice rolls her eyes.

F-me Shoes' mouth tightens into a line and she stares blankly at the bare logs that make up the wall.

Malice really doesn't like F-me Shoes, because she always walks around with no clothes on—and she has the luscious, sexy body of a late teenager, a few years older than Malice, who is 15. Malice has caught Hatter and Humpty checking out F-me Shoes' body and of course it makes her furiously jealous—the only thing keeping her feelings in check is the kindness programming of her ticktock heart.

Sleepy B says, "Well, I think we should just get to it. I'd invite you for a spot of tea, but it'd only make poor Jabby feel out of sorts, since you know, his head isn't connected to his stomach anymore."

"Of course, I do quite understand. Let's bring the lad in."

Malice walks to the door, opens it, peers out. "Jabby honey? Won't you come in for a moment? I'd like to speak to you."

"Certainly, Queen," he says. Moments later, the Jabberwock walks in, carrying his head. Technically, it's the Horseman Body that does the walking, but in Malice's mind, the Horseman Body is the Jabberwock—it's the part of him not attached to his head.

The Cat zooms in as well, says, "With my help, all the intruders were repelled."

The Jabberwock chuckles. "Yeah we had to fend off a horde of twisted fairy tale beings."

"I did most of the heavy work."

Malice chuckles. It was obviously a joke, because nearly all the twisted fairy tale beings had been unleashed into the much-less-magical "Outside World," where Alice now lives. The Headless Horseman, Sleepy B and F-me Shoes are among the small number of fairy tale beings still in Wonderland, as far as Malice knows.

She gives the Jabberwock's head the best comforting smile she can manage. "Won't you sit down, hon?" She gestures to the small, dining table.

The Jabberwock groans. "Oh, here we go. Well, let's get it over with, then."

The Cat says, "She trying to manipulate you, Big J?"

The Jabberwock doesn't reply.

Malice pulls out her own chair and sits down, rather than wait for someone to pull the chair out for her. She finds many of the formalities around being a queen to be boring, a waste of time, and actually unempowering. She quite likes pulling her own chairs to sit in.

The Jabberwock sits across from her, and lets out a long-suffering sigh.

The Cheshire Cat's head hovers to the side of the table.

Sleepy B and F-me Shoes give them their privacy as F-me Shoes quietly recites another bedtime story.

Malice lightly strokes her cheek. She takes in a light breath, and now begins. "Now, Jabby, we haven't known each other all that long, but during my short reign, I've come to value you tremendously. And you've always been kind to me—they tell me you're much nicer than the other jabberwocks. I appreciate that. If Alice were here, I'm sure she would too." She stops to give him another comforting smile. He grins back from his decapitated head being held up by the Horseman Body's arm.

The Jabberwock had always been known for being strangely kind to the little girl Alice—of course he had still been cruel, because back then for several years, the citizens of Wonderland had been heartless. Even back then, the Jabberwock had demonstrated a tolerance for the little girl Alice that the jabberwocks back in his original home of Jabberwock Valley didn't share. Because the jabberwocks are mortal enemies of little girls—they kill them as much as they can. Jabberwock mothers even sing their children "little-girls-goodbyes", which are like lullabies, but which are sung about killing and dismembering little girls, to ease their little darlings to sleep at night.

The Jabberwock is holding his head politely at Malice's eye level. That's one advantage he's gained from being decapitated, at least—being able to adjust his head height level.

The Jabberwock's mouth swishes side to side. "Yes, I've always been different from all the other jabberwocks. And look at me now. I've gone through so many changes, it's like I'm an entirely different creature altogether." He gestures at his borrowed body. He'd made a joke, but he looks utterly miserable.

"Yes, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. You're a proud warrior, and we're all very fond of you."

The Jabberwock sneers. "But I'm supposed to be a scary monster."

From across the room, Sleepy B calls out, "You are scary, Jabby!"

He says back, "Thank you, sweety! But you're supposed to be pretending not to listen."

"Oopsy!"

As Malice glances over there, she's reminded again of F-me Shoes sitting there, with her hot naked body. She cringes as the rush of hatred floods her thoughts, before being beaten back by the kindness programming.

She looks away, wants to avoid seeing that girl again, doesn't even want to hear the sound of her sexy voice anymore. And yet she can hear the quiet version of F-me Shoes' voice as she resumes reciting her bedtime story.

Malice forces herself to redirect her attention to the Jabberwock, says, "Yes, you're quite intimidating, but we all know you're going through difficulties. We love ya, and we want to help you. Hatter, Humpty, and I have all agreed to go on a quest with you, to Jabberwock Valley—"

The Jabberwock lets out a groan. "I already told Sleepy B I wouldn't be going on that quest. I'm a disgrace in the jabberwocks' eyes. I was banished!"

"But I found out that your official exile ended four years ago. And there are so many good reasons to go. You couldn't help it that your vorpal sword was taken when everyone thought you were dead, but you owe it to yourself to regain it. And the jabberwock doctors may be able to help you with your decapitation situation."

"No! I can't even show my face...or my head there anymore. I'm ashamed, okay?"

"But you have nothing to be ashamed of anymore. That was the past and you've served your punishment. And we'll all help you in any way we can..." Malice feels a sudden sinking feeling in her chest.

Oh no, not now.

She continues, "We'll go with you, and as Queen, they're sure to listen to me."

She feels the bad thoughts slipping in. Her heart is beating erratically.

The Jabberwock snarls, before trying to put on a pleasanter expression. "No, I'm not going, that's final! And I'm tired of the nagging. I know this is your first time talking to me, but those two have been on me all week about this."

Malice nods while trying to hide her worry. As she feels a coldness spreading through her chest, she realizes her ticktock heart has stopped functioning.

The Jabberwock's brow rises. "Are you okay?"

But maybe it's only a temporary glitch and it'll kick in soon again—it's been doing that a lot lately. In a fake cheery voice, Malice says, "I'm fine, just..." She gives forth a fake couple of coughs, to give her the excuse to slap her chest, hoping to jostle her heart back to running properly.

"Oh dear," the Jabberwock says. "I've upset you. I meant no offense, really. I'm grateful you're concerned about me."

Malice nods, manages to smile, though she'd rather scowl.

"Get some water," Sleepy B calls helpfully over to her.

Malice wants to yell back, "Good idea! Water, so I can drown you with it!" but she clamps her mouth shut. The chill in her chest is intensifying—soon she won't be able to stop the heartless behavior. She slaps her chest twice, and her heart starts sputtering with weak heartbeats.

I really should just go, before it stops again, and I lose my composure.

She stands up too suddenly, sending her chair tottering backward and clattering into the floor.

She hears gasps. She chuckles nervously, and shrugs her shoulders to play it off. She says to the Jabberwock, "Please help us by letting us help you. We want to, really. So please just think about it. And now...I've bothered you enough...I'll leave you alone..." She's trying to sound cheerful, but to her own ears, she sounds terse and angry.

I wish I could knock some sense into that monster's stupid decapitated head.

The Jabberwock stands. "Goodbye Queen." He bows graciously.

Malice ignores him—she knows it's rude, but she's mostly concerned with getting out of this room without an incident.

Thankfully, that confounded Cat isn't making any of his smarty cat comments—it'd be technically wrong to say he's "keeping his mouth shut," because he's grinning—always grinning like a loon.

I wish he would materialize his lower body so I could wring his neck!

Malice balls her fists at her side and steps forward. If I can just make it to the door...

"Bye Queen Malice!" Sleepy B calls out cheerfully. She waves with her right hand, which is covered in a black fingerless lace glove.

Malice waves half-heartedly but doesn't turn her head to look at her. She doesn't want to have to see F-me Shoes, because Malice can't even stand the sight of the little hussy. But at least F-me Shoes is choosing to keep her mouth shut, and Malice can at least respect that.

Malice is grateful to be almost at the door. She presses her hand to her chest. It feels cold now, but her heart is still thumping weakly, though it's woefully out of rhythm.

She reaches for the door, just as she feels her heart stop beating. She pushes the door open.

She hears F-me Shoes sneeze. The fact the temptress has made her presence known once again is bad enough, but the fact that her sneeze was so cutesy and girly and attractive is almost more than Malice can take.

Malice's hand curls into a fist, in the aftermath silence of that damned adorable sneeze. With her back turned to the room, she scowls without anyone seeing.

"Bless you," the Jabberwock says.

F-me Shoes sneezes once again, with a little girly squeak at the end.

"That's it!" Malice shouts. She whirls and glares at F-me Shoes, who cringes, and says, "I'm sorry!"

Malice rushes toward the dining table.

The Jabberwock says, "What are you doing?"

The Cat chuckles, says, "Oh ho ho! Here we go!"

Malice grabs a chair, holding it upside down in her hands. She heads toward F-me Shoes.

F-me Shoes is standing now, with an alarmed look on her too-pretty face.

Malice snarls, "I'm gonna beat your ass, because I can't even stand you anymore!"

F-me Shoes whimpers, while edging toward the door. "I'm sorry, Queen. I'll try not to sneeze anymore."

"Queen..." the Jabberwock says in his best soothing voice.

Malice shouts, "No! As Queen, I order you to sit and let me beat your ass."

"Beat my ass?!" F-me Shoes shrieks and makes a break for the door.

Malice runs at her and while shouting, swings as F-me Shoes passes by, but misses and the chair swooshes through the air.

F-me Shoes runs out of the hut.

"Bollocks!" Malice shouts. She slams the chair into the top of the dining table over and over, until it splinters into bits and the plates and glasses are shattered.

In the aftermath, she stands looking down at the mess, holding a broken chair leg in each hand. She is breathing heavily, trying to catch her breath.

"Bravo!" the Cat says. "You really stuck it to those dishes."

She glowers at him.

The Jabberwock says, "I must say, I disapprove of you losing your temper."

"Shut up, decap-head," Malice mutters.

Sleepy B says, "So when is the Queen of Hearts going to check your heart?"

Malice whips her gaze at the girl. Sleepy B ducks under the blanket with just her frightened eyes peering over the edge.

Malice snarls, "Watch yourself little girl, or you're next."

She throws the chair legs on the ground and stomps out of the hut with the chuckling Cat hovering at her side.

Outside, F-me Shoes is nowhere to be seen.

"That was a most excellent tantrum, Queeny," the Cat says.

"Oh, shut up."

Her irritability only makes him giggle more.

Stupid cat.

CHAPTER THREE

The next day, Malice is informed that F-me Shoes had been upset and had gone to the Storyteller and had him send her into the Outside World. Malice feels guilty, but apparently F-me Shoes had been considering leaving Wonderland anyway, and the incident simply sent her over the edge. The Storyteller had never liked F-me Shoes' influence on Sleepy B, so Malice can understand why he was so cooperative in helping F-me Shoes leave.

Malice feels guilty over the whole thing, which means her heart has started working again, but she keeps her appointment with Doctor Froud. He happens to be a gnome a couple inches shorter than Malice, with a long white beard.

The appointment unfortunately turns out to be less than helpful. Froud is a mental doctor, a psychiatrist, he calls himself, so his expertise is in the mental realm as opposed to other parts of the body. In fact, he is currently running treatment sessions for the Mad Hatter and the Knight.

So when he tries to assess Malice's heart, he's out of his element, though he tries to cover it up with a bunch of psychobabble terms, which he probably uses to seem smart, Malice thinks.

He doesn't even bring any medical instruments. When he listens to her heart ticking with a glass pressed to her chest and held to his ear, he does notice something awry.

"About every 64 seconds, the ticking of your heart temporarily goes out of rhythm for a couple of seconds. It's like a burst of rapid beats!"

Malice is of course alarmed, thinking it is perhaps a sign of her heart malfunctioning.

Froud seems perplexed, but since it's a mechanical heart, he is at a loss for an explanation or cure.

He does offer her his counseling services.

Malice says her problem is in her heart, not her head.

He says, "It's all connected."

She thanks him and sends him away.

So, Malice is left with the loathsome prospect of approaching the Queen of Hearts for help. But Malice would rather be slapped in the face than go to that beastly woman.

But after Malice's unfortunate "tantrum" with F-me Shoes, Hatter and Humpty had insisted that she compromise with the Queen of Hearts, who'd been saying she knew a lot about hearts, and so, could probably help a great deal with Malice's "condition". Of course, the Queen of Hearts would only help for a price, and Malice had been too proud to agree.

But Humpty and Hatter had nagged her into agreeing.

And so now she stands in the dungeon hallway, outside the Queen of Hearts' cell door, standing next to one of the guard cards, who are human-sized cards with arms and legs and flattish sort of heads.

The guard is there to protect Malice should the Queen of Hearts exhibit "unseemly" violent behavior. He also holds the vial of Malice's tears in a stoppered glass test tube. He holds one of the cards' typical spears in his other hand.

In her own hands, Malice holds the device known as a "stethoscope" that the Queen of Hearts had claimed she'd need to "doctor" Malice.

The castle used to belong to the Queen of Hearts, and she'd said she had a vague memory of where she'd stored the stethoscope away, many years ago.

Of course Malice and some of the guards, as well as Humpty and Hatter had ended up searching for hours, rummaging through storage bins filled with junk, until Humpty had found it.

Malice pounds on the door. "Miss 'Of Hearts'! We're here now!" Malice has been calling her "Miss" since she is no longer Queen of Wonderland after all, and since she never married, she must be a "Miss". Of course, everyone else continues to call her "Queen of Hearts", out of habit apparently, but Malice is not enough of a dictatorial monarch to force them to stop.

There is no response from inside the room. Of course, Malice could stand on tippy toes and peer through the little viewing slot in the door, but of course, she knows what's going on. The former-Queen inside won't respond if she doesn't want, and if Malice wants to get on her good side, she better play along.

Malice feels a little bad for possibly hurting the Queen's feelings. She takes a fortifying breath. "I mean, Queen of Hearts! We have arrived!"

"Enter!"

The guard card unlocks the cell door and swings it open.

The Queen of Hearts sits inside the sparse dungeon cell, wearing her usual poofy dress. But there is something different about the Queen of Hearts, which occurred just two days ago.

It's her face.

Half the Queen of Heart's face is made up like a clown—the skin is white, the hair frizzy and red. However, her nose isn't split down the middle—it's got a complete red ball on the tip. In the past, Malice's tears had transformed the Queen of Heart's face into that clownish appearance. But that had been before Malice attained the ticktock heart, when she'd been heartless and her tears were malicious in their magic.

But two days ago, Malice had used her tears to return half of the Queen of Heart's face to its pre-clown state, to prove her tears still held magical healing properties now that she has the ticktock heart. After Froud had failed to be of any help, Malice had made a deal: she'd fix the other half after the Queen of Hearts helped her.

The Queen of Hearts sneers. "Why don't you make a painting—it shall last longer."

"But I already did," Malice says. She's referring to the painting she'd ordered made of the Queen of Hearts when her face had been completely clown. Because the Queen of Hearts had been in a state of denial, she'd refused to believe that she had a clown face until confronted with the painting. For some reason, that had finally convinced her, whereas mirrors never had.

"Yes. But you're staring."

Malice says, "Begging your pardon, Your Former Majesty." She looks down at the floor again. She stands in front of the Queen of Hearts now, with the guard card standing protectively at her side.

The Queen of Hearts attempts to gesture with her hands, but her shackles prevent her, causing her to give forth a grunt of irritation. "Do you wish me to aid you or not?"

Malice feels suddenly guilty for her rudeness—that's from her ticktock heart, making her be sappy sweet. "Begging Your Highness's pardon. Of course I do. I've brought the tears and the stetho...um device."

The Queen of Hearts nods. "Very well. I must say, your tears took quite a while to work, before. Alice's were much stronger."

Malice shrugs. "It's quite inconvenient she's not here."

"Quite. Well let's begin then."

Malice says, "Righto. Here you are then."

The Queen of Hearts' chains rattle as she takes the stethoscope. She's chained in such a way as to allow some movement, with a long chain between her wrists, but not too much movement—a long chain leads from the middle of the wrist chain to an O-ring set in the wall. "Ah, I remember using this listening device before. Then it got lost amongst all my clutter. I took it from a doctor I had beheaded. Of course, I am the greatest heart expert in all the land, for I have collected so many, over the years (along with heads), that I can tell so much just by their appearance—their color, their texture and such." She stares at Malice's chest and arches a brow. "Do you have a knife?"

Malice glowers for a moment, filled with rage, before her kindness programming intrudes itself in her thoughts: Be nice. After all, you want her to help you.

Malice struggles with her face muscles, but manages to smile politely. "Unfortunately, I have no knife."

"The spear perhaps?"

"You'll have to make do with the stethoscope."

"A pity. But even so, I can tell a lot from the sounds. I'm an expert, you see. I know so much about hearts. Why, it's even in my name."

"Indeed," Malice says.

"Come, child lean in. I won't bite."

Yes, but you just might try to strangle me.

Malice steps forward just enough so that the Queen of Hearts can reach her chest, but not her neck.

The Queen of Hearts slips the ends of the stethoscope in her ears, she presses the other end to Malice's chest—Malice has worn a low cut dress just for this occasion.

The Queen of Hearts listens. "Ah, I can hear your heartbeat, but it's not like a regular heart. It's a bit more tinny, more metallic." She listens more. "The mechanisms do sound a bit off. Perhaps the thing needs to be fine tuned."

"Mmm..." Malice says, choosing not to say out loud what they both know, which is that the girl known as the Tinkerer, who gave Malice the ticktock heart, currently resides in the Outside World, and is unreachable.

"What is this?" the Queen of Hearts says. She listens for a few moments. "Now it's stopped."

"What is it?" Malice asks.

"It's very strange. It's like there is some sort of message in your heartbeat that repeats once every minute or so."

"A message? How?"

"In Morse code—it's a way of sending messages using clicks that symbolize letters. When they're put together they spell out words. The only problem is that, even though I recognize that it's Morse code, I'm not skilled enough to decipher the message."

"How curious. Did the Tinkerer add the message?"

The Queen of Hearts shrugs. "I was never informed of one."

"You say the message repeats? I shall have to find someone who can understand this Morse code you spoke of."

The Queen of Hearts says, "Very well. So you've told me how the device monitors your thoughts. Tell me, is it doing so very much at the moment?"

"I must admit, my ticktock heart is working somewhat to counteract your irritating nature and goading, but not overly so."

"Oh, I see." She smirks. "It presently struggles not quite enough for me to make a proper assessment..."

"Are you proposing something?"

"Yes. Basically, I must listen to your heart when it is working hard at keeping you kind."

"So, you propose, praytell, what?"

"Well I must challenge your kindness. It pains me to say so, but I must perform upon your heart what is known as a 'stress test'."

"What is that?"

"I must compel your heart to operate to the maximum of its capabilities. Indeed, I must attempt to make it work beyond what it can bear to see how it behaves then, for I have a theory about what's causing it to break down."

"What's your theory?"

"That it is breaking down due to overuse."

Malice considers that. It makes sense—it seems that, lately, when she has been struggling hardest to be nice, that her heart would cease functioning for many minutes at a time. "If that's true, how would I fix it?"

"I have an idea, but first, we must test my theory."

"How?"

The Queen of Hearts chuckles, obviously amusing herself with her own inner thoughts. "I must challenge your heart to struggle ever-so-hard to force you to remain nice."

"How?"

"The most direct and effective way I can think of is for me to slap you."

"Rubbish!" Malice exclaims.

"Please. It's the only way I can think of. Insults and taunts simply wouldn't work. You know the saying: sticks and stones and such. Truly, I hate to impose." She smirks.

Malice narrows her eyes, but now her heart causes her to put on a pleasant demeanor. "If you want the tears, you shall conduct yourself honestly, yeah?"

"But of course. I'm only trying to help you, child, to reach my prognosis." She seems to be struggling to maintain a straight face.

"Oh, fine. But you shan't slap too hard, right?"

"Of course, child. I won't cause any permanent damage, merely a great deal of pain, I promise."

"You seem to be enjoying this entirely too much. But let's get on with it."

"Let's do. But you'll have to come closer so I can reach your face. And...again I hate to impose, but I must request that the guard hold your arms in case your heart fails and you attempt to harm me."

"What? Me harm you?" But her heart does its thing, and she smiles. "Of course. It is an understandable precaution."

"Indeed. I heard what you did to that poor F-me Shoes girl. She was so traumatized, she ran off to the Outside World!"

Malice sighs. "That was regrettable. But I'm here to fix my behavior, though. Guard, hold my arms and don't allow me to strike or harm the Queen."

The guard card sets the tears and his spear on the ground. He holds Malice's hands behind her back. She takes a couple steps and leans her face forward. She closes her eyes.

"Are you ready?" the Queen of Hearts says.

"Do it!"

Malice feels the painful slap across her cheek. And she hears the rattling chains.

"Crikey!" Malice exclaims, her eyes popping wide open. She is greeted with the pleasantly smiling half-clown face. Malice attempts to rub her stinging cheek, but the guard is restraining her.

The Queen of Hearts says, "Is your heart working hard to keep you kind?"

"Yes. But it seems to still be working."

"Let's have a listen, then..." She presses down the stethoscope.

Malice hears the Cat's voice off to her right side, saying, "What'd I miss? I say, why do you have a handprint on the side of your face?"

The Cat has apparently chosen this moment to pull one of his sudden appearance acts. Malice shushes him.

The Queen of Hearts says, "Ah, I can hear a difference now. It's beating irregularly, as if it's straining itself. But I must challenge it more to meet my test. I must strike you again." She throws a scowl at the Cat.

Malice merely nods, and closes her eyes.

She can hear the Cat murmuring worriedly to himself—but he's trying not to interrupt—he always claims he follows a non-interference policy.

Malice feels another painful slap on the opposite cheek.

I must tolerate this, for the Queen of Hearts is trying to help me.

But, oh, my kind thoughts must mean my heart is still working. It needs to be strained more.

"Another!" Malice shouts.

"Heavens, why?!" the Cat whimpers.

With her eyes still closed, Malice feels another stinging slap against the other side of her cheek.

"Ha! Your face is aglow!" the Queen of Hearts exclaims.

Malice can feel her hateful thoughts struggling to break free. "And another!"

"Certainly!" the Queen of Hearts exclaims before giving another slap to the opposite cheek.

The Cat whimpers, "No..."

"Is that all you've got?!" Malice shouts.

"Not hardly," the Queen of Hearts answers before delivering another slap.

Malice says, "Yes, my heart is really struggling to keep me kind. I can hear the competing thoughts fighting each other in my mind." Finally she opens her eyes.

The Queen of Hearts has a huge grin on her face. "Fabulous, my darling, I shall have a listen... Ah yes, I hear it now, the heartbeats are sputtering, going slow then fast, with irregular beats, and I must say, the mechanisms seem to be running roughly." She removes the stethoscope and meets Malice's eyes.

Malice gazes back, feeling hatred coursing through her.

The Queen of Hearts says, "I have this theory, that your heart may be like a horse that has been run too hard. It struggles to keep pace, but finally collapses from overwork."

"Oh, is that what you think, bitch?"

"Quite. And please watch how you address me."

Malice nods and merely stares, as she feels a sudden pang of coldness in her chest.

The Queen of Hearts sniffs. "But I believe I have a remedy. Much like a delicate sickly horse, who shouldn't be run hard...I believe I know the way to keep your heart ridden gently, as it were."

Behind her back, on the ends of her still-restrained arms, Malice's hands form into fists, and she feels the coldness spreading through her chest. "Are you going to tell me, or tease me?" she says through gritted teeth.

"You promise to use the tears to fix my face if I tell?"

Malice feels rage as she looks at the Queen of Hearts' smug, mocking expression. "I promise..." She tries to take a few calming breaths, but they are much too shallow. She blurts out, "Did you enjoy slapping me silly?"

"Oh, very much so! Quite enjoyable!"

Malice feels her heart stop beating—it doesn't mean she'll die—it means her heartless nature will be unleashed. "That's it!" She snaps and lunges forward. "I'll kill you!" But the guard card holds her back.

The Queen of Hearts laughs. "Temper, temper."

The Cat contributes, "You better hope she doesn't get free."

The Queen of Hearts says, "She's too weak to break free of that big strong guard there."

Malice shouts, "I'll choke you, dead!"

The Cat says, "You shouldn't have made her mad."

The Queen of Hearts says, "Anyhow. I know of a way to keep your heart from overworking. An ancient way that was used to 'deaden' a person's heart. It used to be considered a poison, but will serve your purpose if you keep the doses small."

Malice struggles some but is unable to break free of the guard's arms. She relaxes and sighs. "Well, spit it out, then."

The Queen of Hearts says, "It is said that ingesting a large dose of the petals of a black rose will cause one's heart to deaden for several weeks, during which time the person will act like a heartless bitch, like you. A smaller dose, I reckon, shall deaden your heart just enough to keep your heart from overworking. Hopefully, that shall prevent any further embarrassing incidents like this one. I mean really, it's unbecoming." And now to be even more condescending and insulting, she tuts.

Malice snaps, let's out a roar of rage and tugs hard at her hands, catching the guard by surprise. Her hands break free.

"That's it!" Malice shouts.

Malice lets loose a banshee scream, as she pounces, reaching out at the neck—she watches the Queen of Hearts' eyes go wide as she lets out a yelp of shock that is cut short by Malice's hands squeezing around her throat.

"Oh!" the Cat shouts out, delightedly.

"Choke you!" Malice shouts as she tightens her grip.

The Queen of Hearts is stooped over, while Malice, who is shorter, pulls her downward.

"Queen, stop!" She hears the guard say behind her.

The Queen of Hearts attempts to pull Malice's hands off, but her chained hands can only get a weak grasp.

"Yes!" the Cat shouts. "Kill her!"

And the Queen of Hearts can only make a squeaky noise instead of yelling, as she seems to want to do. The parts of her face that aren't covered in pure white clown makeup are now bright red.

"Die! Die!" Malice shouts as she continues her choking. "Only one Queen now! Me!" She stares into the Queen of Hearts' bulging terrified eyes, and now Malice says, "Hello! I'm the Queen of Wonderland. Oh, and...Goodbye!" She stares creepily into the woman's eyes, waiting to witness the exact moment when the life leaves her body.

Malice feels something wrap around her torso and tug her back. She looks down to see the guard card's arms around her waist.

"No!" Malice shouts.

"Stop!" the card shouts. After a couple of tugs, he pulls Malice off.

"Confound it!" Malice shouts as she watches the Queen of Hearts gasp for air.

"Almost..." the Cat says to Malice sympathetically.

Malice, in her fury, runs toward the Queen of Hearts, but the card holds her back and Malice's feet go out from under her—and as her lower body propels forward while her upper body is held back, Malice attempts to kick at the bitch before falling to the ground.

Malice shouts in frustration. She continues to struggle but the card still holds her arms behind her back. "No! I must finish her! Let me finish her!"

The Queen of Hearts still looks slightly shaken, but has managed to recover enough to sneer at Malice, says, "Oh my darling, your behavior is quite unbecoming for a queen. Perhaps you should reconsider whether you're suited for the station. After all, you hatched from quite common origins, didn't you, my sweet?" She lets forth two coughs.

Malice's face scrunches up in rage. "Oooh, guard let me go this instant!"

The guard card answers, "I cannot. You ordered me not to."

"I revoke those orders," Malice says.

"I'm sorry, My Queen," the guard card says.

"Listen to her!" the Cat says.

The card doesn't respond to the Cat.

The Queen of Hearts chuckles. "I daresay, that's rather pathetic. What kind of queen cannot get a stupid guard card to obey her? I'm sorry I had to witness such a shameful display. Since I don't want to completely ruin your self esteem, I suppose I shall politely move on from further remarking upon your disgrace. And so...that vial of tears...I fully expect it to be applied to my face soon, because after all, I met the terms of our agreement, correct?"

The Cat has hovered right next to the Queen of Hearts. He hisses loudly, startling her.

The Queen of Hearts says, "Oh, be gone, you noxious beast." She tries to swat him away, but is being impeded by her clanking shackles.

Some of Malice's heart's kindness programming kicks in. It's very weak, but enough to lessen her murderous rage a slight amount. She says, "Oh very well, then! Guard, take me away from here, before I finish what I started."

And as Malice is led away, she has to endure the Queen of Hearts' additional mocking laughter echoing in the hallway.

CHAPTER FOUR

Malice sits in her throne. She'd hastily put on her crown and grabbed her scepter, but she was too lazy to put on her poofy royal gown. Instead, she wears her simple slim, plain black dress she wore all during her humiliating morning, in which she'd apologized to the Queen of Hearts for her behavior yesterday. Then Malice had to make good on her promise of applying the tears to the Queen of Hearts' face. It'd taken almost an hour of soaking for the Queen of Hearts' face to return to its non-clown form. The Queen of Hearts had been rude and insulting, but Malice had been very polite and kind during the whole procedure, because her ticktock heart was making her act sappily sweet.

With that out of the way, Malice had been preparing for her appointment with the man known as the Storyteller. She'd made the appointment because he has a black rose plant in a flower pot. Malice wants to "fix" her heart as quickly as possible.

Just a few minutes ago, a guard card had informed her that a boy wishes to speak to her concerning an "important" matter that he wants to talk to her about before he forgets. Of course it begs the question, if it's so important, why would he forget it?

Her interest is officially piqued.

So here she sits, trying to look regal.

I wonder how the Queen of Hearts would've composed herself in this situation. I imagine she would scowl and appear menacing. Perhaps she might even allow the boy to speak for a few minutes before shouting, "Off with his head!"

A guard card enters through a door on the far end of the room. He walks up to the dais and kneels. "Your Highness, the boy wishes to approach the throne now."

Malice waggles her hand in the air. "Yes, yes, bring him in." She hasn't been Queen long, and she finds the stuffy formalities to be quite a bother.

The guard scurries away out the door.

A teenage boy enters the throne room. He holds a simple straw hat against his shirt. He's dressed plainly in trousers with suspenders, and worker's boots.

He kneels before her, with his head bowed. "Your Royal Highness..."

Malice feels at a temporary loss as to what to do. She's not yet used to receiving the full royal treatment. "Wotcha, I say as my greetings, peasant. Her Majesty is um, honored, no wait, I am content with your kneeling. Hey, look at me when I speak to you!"

"I apologize, Your Highness."

He looks up at her, and Malice feels awkward again, and in her panic, she royal waves at him, which is a movement where she lifts her arm with her palm out, then slowly rotates it back and forth.

He looks at her with a quizzical expression.

She puts her hand down, and feels her heart's kindness kick in. "I'm sorry I called you a peasant. Um, please stand, and tell my your name. All that kneeling business quite freaks me out."

"As you wish, Your Highness. My name is Kingston."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Kingston. Tell me, do you know how to interpret something called Morse code?"

"I've heard of it, but I can't understand it. Why?"

"Never mind. I'm afraid I can't speak long, as I have an appointment. What did you wish to speak to me about?"

"The Snark. He is scheming to create an allegiance of the monster tribes, and I have reason to believe he may soon attempt an attack upon you."

Malice perks up in her seat. The Snark is a tentacled creature that is able to take over others' bodies by latching onto the tops of their heads. The Snark had once taken control of the Mad Hatter by hiding away inside one of his hats, until Malice herself discovered the creature. The Snark had escaped, and Malice hasn't heard anything about him ever since.

Malice says, "How do you know these things?"

"The Snark came and spoke to me last night. He is currently between hosts right now, so he appeared to me in his own squidy body. He wanted me to help him with his plans. You see, I'm on a short visit from the shifters' territory. He wanted me to go back and inform my monsters to join forces with him. When I refused to help him, he latched onto my head—he said he was going to suck all the memories of the whole conversation right out of my brain. But I guess it didn't work."

"You're a shifter? Like a werewolf?"

"Actually I'm a werepig. I actually lived here in Wonderland many years ago. I used to be cared for by the Duchess. But she had stolen me away from the shifters, and one day, after Alice picked me up, I shifted into a pig, went off into the forest and kept on trotting off to be with my kind."

"Oh! I heard about you! But...that must've been about six years ago, when Alice was 7. They told me you were just a baby back then, but you look to be in your teens!"

He nods. "Yes. But us shifters mature at a faster rate, due to the animal parts of us. However, I remained a baby much longer than I should have. I only grew after I left Wonderland."

Malice's head wobbles as she attempts to understand what he just said.

Kingston chuckles. "And I can tell I just confused you. Well, you see, the Duchess kidnapped me when I was still an infant—she wanted a cute little baby. And she wanted me to stay that way forever. Well, she was well on her way to getting her wish since no one ages in Wonderland, except for you and Alice. But Alice freed me. There was something special about her that caused me to transform that day. Once I traveled to the shifters' territory, I started growing again!"

Malice says, "So in your land, the shifters age? Why is it different here?"

"Because the Queen of Hearts didn't bother applying the age-defying magic upon our land. It's the same way with Jabberwock Valley—they age too, and the humans there age as well. But your Jabberwock doesn't age since he lives in Wonderland."

"So the reason no one ages in Wonderland was the Queen of Hearts' doing? I never knew that."

"Well, Your Highness, perhaps they are keeping you in the dark. Have they ever told you of what existed before Wonderland?"

Malice says, "Well, ofttimes when I ask about that, everyone claims they can't remember, then change the subject."

"Perhaps they are embarrassed, or ashamed, of all the atrocities committed in the past. Though to be fair, it was the Queen of Hearts who was responsible for everything."

"What are you referring to?"

"You really don't know, do you?"

Malice shakes her head.

Kingston sighs. "It's as if Wonderland has forgotten all about Woeland. All you Wonderland beings are like that—I wonder if someone even might have cast some sort of amnesia spell or something."

Malice shrugs. "If it's true, then combined with what the Snark did to you, it's impressive you can remember anything at all."

"Well, when I lived in Wonderland, I didn't know about Woeland. When I went back home, my kinsfolk educated me. They remember what happened, over a century ago, when this castle of yours didn't even exist. When Wonderland didn't exist. When this land was known as Woeland, and was ruled over by the monsters—the jabberwocks, the shifters, and the bandersnatches. And the snarks and jubjub birds."

"Oh my!" Malice exclaims. "I've never heard that. The Jabberwock, I mean our Jabberwock never mentioned that his monsters once ruled this place."

Kingston says, "That's odd. Perhaps he has been made to forget."

Malice says, "But you remember, and you're in Wonderland, so how come you aren't forgetting too?"

He shrugs. "Hey, I don't have all the answers."

"So why don't monsters rule over this land anymore?"

"The Queen of Hearts. Of course, she wasn't called that back then—she was Miss Hearts. This was back when she was still a little girl—she and her guards fought the monsters and drove them out. She slaughtered many and almost wiped the bandersnatches out completely. Something happened to the jubjub birds too, but I can't remember right now. The jabberwocks and shifters relocated to their own areas. And not only that, but she drove out all the little girls, too. They ended up all crowded in what would become Jabberwock Valley...along with the jabberwocks. That led to its own disastrous result."

Malice says, "Little girls? Why did she drive them out?"

"I suppose only she knows for sure. Many shifters seem to think she was jealous of them—either their beauty or their cuteness."

Malice thinks for a moment. "Alice was a little girl when she first arrived here."

"Indeed. But she had the magical tears. Perhaps that's why the Queen of Hearts kept her around. But I came to warn you about the diabolical plan of the...Snick?"

"Don't you mean the Snark?" Malice says.

"Uh yes, that's it. I must've temporarily for— Oh no! It's happening!"

"What is?" Malice asks.

"I'm forgetting! I must hurry, and warn you before it leaves my mind entirely!"

"Please do!" Malice says.

"The Snark came to me because he wants to overthrow Wonderland and reinstate Woeland to its former greatness. He figures he can do that if he takes control of your body and pretends to be you. I recommend you be extra cautious. But if he can't control you, he has a plan B. If the Snark isn't captured, he shall go to Jabberwock Valley and try to take control of one of their leaders in order to get the jabberwocks to follow him. So, the jabberwocks must be warned. Since they are so isolated, your best bet would be to enlist your Jabberwock to inform them. And...oh...what was I talking about?"

"That the Snark wants to go to Jabberwock Valley and wants to reinstate Woeland?"

Kingston's brow furrows in confusion. "Snark? Woeland?"

"Yes, the Snark is a creature who takes over his host's body."

He shakes his head. "Never heard of it. But Woeland...isn't that the land that existed before Wonderland?"

Malice decides to get as much information as she can from Kingston while he can still remember. "What happened to the bandersnatches?"

"I don't know what those are."

Well, might as well throw out a bunch of questions and see what sticks. "How many snarks are left, and how come our Jabberwock doesn't kill little girls, and how many shifters are there, and why did the Queen of Hearts stop the aging of citizens of Wonderland?"

All throughout Malice's rapid string of questions, Kingston shakes his head, but at the last one, he seems relieved to be given a question he can answer and says, "I imagine she wanted to keep herself from aging. Of course, you'd have to ask her."

"So did she create Wonderland?"

He shrugs.

"So where did Woeland come from and what was the point?"

He shakes his head. "I apologize, Your Highness, but I haven't a clue what you're talking about. Umm, I'm afraid I've quite forgotten why you even called me here in the first place."

Malice groans aloud in frustration. "I didn't call you. You requested an audience with me."

"I did?"

After a few more minutes of questioning, it becomes clear the boy can't recall any further useful information. So she excuses herself to meet with the Storyteller.

CHAPTER FIVE

Morley is standing, while Malice and the others sit at the round patio table with the man known as the Storyteller—they are in a lawn area of one of the gardens of his castle. The Storyteller is a very powerful man, who can alter reality when he wants to, in order to create an "interesting story". This, despite his mild appearance as a middle-aged man with a bald spot and glasses. He's also Sleepy B's adoptive father. Malice recently learned that Sleepy B had originally come from Jabberwock Valley and her parents had been killed by jabberwocks, but the Storyteller had been secretive about the details.

Malice holds up the stethoscope and asks the Storyteller, "Do you happen to know how to interpret something called Morse code?"

"I do indeed. Why?"

"I believe you already know."

"Yes. Come come, let me have a listen."

The Storyteller listens to her heartbeat for half a minute or so. "Ah! I've got it!" He removes the device from his ears. "The message is 'property of the Tin Knight'."

"Who's the Tin Knight?" Malice asks.

"You don't know?" the Storyteller says.

"No, that's why I asked."

The Storyteller shrugs.

Malice sighs. She suspects the Storyteller actually does know, but when he refuses to reveal something, there's no way of getting him to talk.

She looks at Morley, the pink flamingo, who says, "I haven't a clue who he is."

She looks at Humpty, who says, "Nor I."

She looks at Hatter. He shrugs. "Never heard of him. But I daresay, if the heart is his, he may appreciate getting it back."

She glares at him.

"My apologies, dear. I do realize you happen to be using it at the moment."

"Indeed," she says. She sighs. "However, it seems my heart may have had a previous owner. Did the Tinkerer make it for this Tin Knight person first?"

The Storyteller just grins, tight-lipped.

"Oh very well. I can see I won't get any information out of you." Malice decides to just cut to the chase: "So, I assume you have been watching my tale unfold."

He nods. "Of course, but I haven't been taking an active role in the direction of your story. Ofttimes, it's best to simply allow narratives to unfold naturally."

The Mad Hatter cuts in, "And sometimes it's more of a laugh to let them unfold ironically, aye gov'nor?" He makes two clicking sounds with his mouth, and nudges the Storyteller with his elbow.

"Please don't touch me," the Storyteller mutters.

The Storyteller is known for using magical storytelling cards, each labeled with a literary term. In the past, he'd been quite fond of the "irony" cards.

Hatter looks offended, but says, "Sorry, mate."

Hatter is currently seated to her right, looking like his usual self—like a crazy man in his mid-twenties, wearing one of the top hats he makes, which is why he's known as the Mad Hatter.

To Malice's left sits Humpty, the cute glasses-wearing boy of 17 years of age, who used to look like a huge egg, but has since become a human boy, and one of Malice's crushes.

Morley, behind Humpty, had refused a chair. He is like most of the flamingos, who prefer to stand. But unlike most flamingos, he's heavily into reading and writing poetry. When he'd heard that Malice wished to partake of the Storyteller's black rose, he'd insisted on tagging along.

Morley can be a bit irritating at times, but at least the Cheshire Cat isn't here, so Malice won't have to tolerate them both at the same time.

Malice says, "So the Queen of Hearts seems to think that eating a little bit of the black rose petals will do me some good."

The Storyteller thinks for a moment. "Aye, it might act as a dampener, to keep your heart from overheating."

Malice says, "So I know you have one of the black roses..."

The Storyteller says, "But there may be side effects. What an interesting story complication..." He's lost in thought.

The Mad Hatter says, "I'm glad you're interested." He moves to pat the Storyteller on the shoulder, but remembers, and stops himself before he does. He pats Malice on the shoulder instead.

And Malice feels a bit tingly from Hatter's touch. This is because she has a crush on him. Of course, there are complications. Because Hatter is in his mid-twenties, while Malice is only 15. She's closer in age to Humpty, who she also has a crush on.

Of course, there are all sorts of complications with Humpty as well. Humpty had started out liking Alice. But then Alice had left to live in the Outside World. But since Malice is the mirror image of Alice, others often think of her as basically the same as Alice, though the real Alice has a regular heart.

After Alice left, Malice suspects that Humpty had merely shifted his feelings for Alice onto her.

But Malice has been thinking about that a lot. Is that really so bad? Because, isn't she basically Alice, but with an "M" in front, and a ticktock heart instead of an organic one?

Oh wait.

My ticktock heart. That's what I'm here for: to fix it.

She focuses her attention back to the situation at hand.

The Storyteller says, "The Queen of Hearts may be on to something. If you ingest just a little bit of the petals, it may help prevent your outbursts of heartlessness."

Malice looks down. "Yes, the last time... Well, they tell me the last time I had one of my...episodes, I went off a bit on F-me Shoes. Do you know anything about that?"

"But of course!" He raises his hand with his index finger pointing upward. "For I am the Storyteller!"

Malice resists the urge to roll her eyes.

The Storyteller is so fond of handing out his literary tool cards—well, he needs to be continually handed the "Melodramatic" card, she thinks to herself.

"Is it true she left?" Malice nudges

"Indeed, it is, lass. I myself helped her cross over."

Malice asks what has been nagging her mind. "So she shall fight against Alice?"

"Of course, according to the Rules of Story, she is in the queue to fight the Fairy Tale Slayer."

"In the queue?" Humpty says.

The Storyteller answers, "Not, a literal queue, my lad. I meant, she shall await her turn to fight Alice, since according to the Rules of Story, the twisted fairy tale beings can only attack her one at a time."

Humpty sputters, "She'll attack Alice? But she always seemed so nude. Nice! I meant she always seemed so nice!"

Malice huffs and crosses her arms.

Hatter says, "Yes, she was an admirable young lady, with many fine attributes...of her character, I meant. I wasn't referring to her body."

Malice glares at him, causing him to draw back, and say, "What?"

Malice sighs and unfolds her arms. "Yes, I admit, she was nice, and she took care of Sleepy B."

"Yes, nice!" Humpty blurts. "That's what I was just saying! Nice! Not naked. Well, I mean, of course, she was naked too. You couldn't help but notice, not that I did..." He starts blushing.

Malice groans and covers her face with her palm. "Please...just stop talking." After taking a few moments to listen to him being silent, she continues, "So I'm sorry that I ran her off. That's why I need the black rose treatment, to prevent me from losing my temper again, and hurting my friends."

She smiles at Hatter and Humpty, who's still blushing. Morley is more of an annoyance than a friend—she'd once ripped his throat open with a razorblade before she got her ticktock heart, but she smiles at him too, just so he won't feel left out.

The Storyteller shakes his head. "But if you manage to control your outbursts, that would make for a less exciting story, don't you think?"

Uh oh. This is not going well. I need to convince the Storyteller, by appealing to what he cares about most. "But, I fear my heart is malfunctioning more and more, and may stop working altogether without the black rose petals. If that happens, I shall become cruel and heartless—I shall be a villain, in the story. And stories need a hero!"

The Storyteller nods. "I hear what you're saying. But others could pick up the roles of the main heroes. Perhaps Humpty here, or Hatter."

Humpty shakes his head. "I'd rather be a secondary character."

Hatter says, "And I think I'm too mad to be a hero. Not that I don't enjoy it. Being mad, that is. Being a hero's too much responsibility for my tastes."

Malice says, "Aww, thanks chaps, for your support."

The Storyteller taps his chin. "You being heartless may make for a most engaging tale. A mad, rampaging queen. Hatter and Humpty as reluctant heroes, forced into organizing the opposition..."

Hatter scoffs. "Me? Organizing? I can barely organize my shoes on my feet each morning! Pish posh. Organizing..." He rolls his eyes.

Meanwhile, mild-mannered Humpty says, "I hate to admit it, but I don't believe I have the temperament to lead rebellions."

Forgive me for what I'm about to say, Malice thinks. "You see! They're both quite incompetent! That's not the story you want to witness! I propose a much more engaging tale!..." She smiles, teasing him.

The Storyteller says, "Do tell..."

Malice says, "Surely you know of my plan to travel with the Jabberwock to Jabberwock Valley."

"Indeed. Now that would be an engaging adventure."

Malice lifts her hand up with her index finger pointing up. "Ah ha! But if my heart fails, I will no longer have the desire to help Jabby! And I shall never go on the quest and have all manner of exciting adventures!"

The Storyteller taps his chin some more. "You make quite convincing arguments. I would most definitely like to see you travel to the land of the jabberwocks. Also, I am intrigued by all the romantic tension of your group, and of course, any romance, with or without tension, requires a heart..."

Malice gasps and feigns ignorance. "What? Romantic tension?"

She looks to her two crushes, to see that Humpty is blushing again, and Hatter is nodding for some reason—but his reactions don't always make sense.

The Storyteller says, "Quite. The romantic aspects are an essential part of the saga."

Malice groans. "Yes, without romance, things such as the vorpal fist wouldn't have even worked."

"Indeed," the Storyteller says.

It had been Alice who had used the vorpal fist to tear Humpty Dumpty's heart out, which had led to him being transformed into a boy. Alice had been horrified by what she'd done, and had thrown the fist back at the Tinkerer.

"What ever happened to that thing, anyway?" Malice says.

The Storyteller shrugs with a grin. "One of those mysteries."

"Oh I see," Malice says. "You do so love to keep your secrets, don't you? The location of the Jabberwock's beloved vorpal blade is something we should like to know as well."

"So many mysteries," the Storyteller says teasingly, with that infuriating grin again.

"Can you tell me anything about this 'Woeland' the werepig boy was talking about?"

"Woeland?" Humpty says.

Malice looks around, to gauge the reactions of her companions. Morley looks back with a puzzled expression and shakes his head.

Hatter looks puzzled as well. He says, "Whoa Land? As in, 'Whoa! I just made the most amazing croquet shot'? Or 'whoah' as in, 'Whoah, horsey, you're about to run over the croquet ball I used to make that most amazing shot'?"

"Neither," Malice says.

The Storyteller says, "It's from 'woe', as in the opposite of joy."

Hatter nods. "Oh, I see. As in 'woebegone'."

"Yes, yes," the Storyteller says impatiently. "Listen I have little interest in explaining what words mean to you woeful band of fools!"

"My goodness, such a temper," Malice mutters.

The Storyteller says, "I grow weary of your company, but we can chat a bit more whilst the Mad Hatter fetches the black rose, and then this meeting shall come to an end."

The Storyteller informs Hatter where the black rose is, and Hatter scampers off to fetch it.

Malice says, "You've got this whole castle all to yourself. Does it get lonely? You don't even have any servants?"

"I don't need servants. I manage fine by myself."

"I think Sleepy B, I mean, Sleeping Beauty misses you."

"She's being obnoxious. That's why I revoked her storytelling powers." Sleepy B used to have powerful magical abilities she could use to monitor peoples' stories and even alter them to make them more interesting. For example, she could cause it to rain, to make things more dramatic. Malice wouldn't blame the Storyteller for thinking that was too much power for a young girl to hold.

Malice says, "She wants to go on the quest, assuming I can convince the Jabberwock to go..."

The Storyteller nods, gives a grunt. "It's no surprise. It is inside of her—the desire to return to Jabberwock Valley where she came from. I believe it may be something she needs to do."

Malice frowns. "But there could be danger, or who knows? What if she stays there and never returns? Don't you think you should make up with her before she goes?"

The Storyteller doesn't reply—he seems lost in thought.

"You have to at least tell her goodbye. Won't you miss her?"

"Enough! She needs to start behaving or she won't be going anywhere! Now, your time is running out before Hatter returns. So I suggest you ask your questions while I shall still allow it!"

Malice sighs. "Tell me about Woeland, please. I'd never heard of it before today."

"Yes, yes," the Storyteller says. "It was what this land was before it became Wonderland, it was ruled over by the Monsters of Woeland."

Malice says, "Yes, Kingston, the werepig boy, told me that much. He told me the Snark wants to destroy Wonderland and revive Woeland."

A shrug from the Storyteller. "You'll have to ask the Snark."

"Were there many snarks in the past, in Woeland?"

"Indeed. Before the Queen of Hearts' forces decimated them. There were many other monsters as well. Now, their numbers are much less."

"Is the Snark the last of his kind?"

"He may very well be."

"How can I stop him from trying to destroy Wonderland?"

The Storyteller shrugs. "That remains to be seen, doesn't it?"

Malice groans. "Fine. You don't want to get involved in the unfolding of my future story. So can you tell me about the past? How did 'Woeland' come about?"

The Storyteller perks up and grins. "Now that is a fascinating story! For you see, once upon a time, in the Outside World (before it was even called that), there was a little girl, and it was her powerful imagination that created Woeland."

Malice says, "Why would anyone willingly create a 'Woeland' filled with monsters?"

"Woeland started as a way to hide away her nightmares, a world inhabited by the monsters she imagined lurked in her closet and under her bed. She sent them away, into a world that would exist separate from herself, so she would no longer need to be afraid."

"Whoa," Malice mutters under her breath.

The Storyteller continues, "But she eventually succumbed to her fears—she was a very fearful little girl—and she ended up getting sucked into the very world she wanted to separate herself from, surrounded by the very monsters she sent away!"

Malice says, "And that's what you call a 'bad day'."

"Quite," the Storyteller says.

Malice says, "So this little girl...did she end up getting banished to Jabberwock Valley with all the other little girls?"

The Storyteller says, "Let me finish my story."

They hear the voice of Hatter calling out, "I've got it! I'm coming!"

The Storyteller says, "The little girl was lonely, so she used her abilities to bring over other little girls to be her friends. But she was difficult to get along with."

Malice sees Hatter approaching, carrying the black rose plant inside its pot covered with a glass dome. He waves and Malice throws a quick wave back.

The Storyteller glances at Hatter briefly before continuing. "The little girl grew angry at the other little girls for rejecting her, and also she hated the monsters. She used her forces to defeat the monsters, and banished them along with the little girls from Wonderland. A new realm was created, called Wonderland."

Hatter stands next to Malice. He says, "I got the—"

Malice shushes him.

The Storyteller says, "As the little girl grew, she became lonely. She sought someone to love, but it didn't end well. Her heart was broken, and so she vowed to destroy and collect as many hearts as possible. That woman, who had been that little girl, became known as the Queen of Hearts."

"Blimey," Humpty says.

"Crikey," Malice says.

Malice says, "You held off revealing her identity till the end, for dramatic effect, didn't you?"

"Of course. For I am the Storyteller!" He gestures toward the table. "Set it down here, won't you lad?"

Hatter pouts as he does so. "I missed the story. Could you possibly—"

"I shan't repeat it. I assure you, you would only forget it by tomorrow. Now, the time has come for the Queen to partake of the black rose..."

CHAPTER SIX

Malice gazes at the black rose—unlike red roses, the black roses don't spring from a bush. The black rose sits atop a single thorned stem planted in the dirt.

Black roses are quite rare and difficult to attain. Malice herself had fetched this particular specimen, and it had been quite an ordeal.

The Storyteller says, "I must keep it covered, because inhaling too much of its scent can be quite harmful."

Malice says, "Of that I am quite aware. I accidentally smelled it when I acquired it and went quite mental."

"More so than me?" Hatter says.

"Yes, even more than you, love. I would have died if Cinderella hadn't saved me."

The Storyteller says, "So you can imagine it's quite the little bugger to attend to. You may have it. I have no further use for it, and I shall be glad to be rid of it."

"Thank you," Malice says. "Do you have any recommendations as to how I should...partake of it to treat my condition?"

The Storyteller frowns in thought. "Well, first of all, never smell it... But as for the dosage. Well that is a bit uncertain, isn't it? There is no precedent for this sort of thing. But I think if you take just a nibble of a petal once a week, then increase the dosage slightly as necessary... Yes, that's my recommendation."

Malice says, "And what if I accidentally take too much?"

"Hmmm," the Storyteller says. "It may cause a kind of dangerous intoxication."

"Oh, dear," Humpty says. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Malice says, "I have to try it. I don't want to go mental again, and end up snapping your neck or gouging your eyeballs out and juggling them or pulling out your entrails—"

"I get the message," Humpty says, looking pale. "I just worry about you. I care about you."

Malice says, "And I care about you too, hon. Which is why I never want to hurt you."

The Storyteller says, "I must warn you, there will no doubt be side effects to this form of treatment you've devised."

"Oh no," Humpty mutters under his breath.

Malice says, "What are they, and how can I prevent them?"

"Ah hah! The intriguing factor of this whole ordeal, is that the very qualities of the black rose that shall soothe your malfunctioning heart are the same qualities that shall prove your undoing if you take too much! Oh, how delightfully suspenseful it is to await what shall occur!" He claps his hands like a delighted child.

"Fine," Malice says, "so the very treatment may be its own sort of poison. But what shall be the effects? You never said..."

The Storyteller chuckles. "Ah, how delightfully poetic you are already, my dear. And you haven't even been 'wrapped in its trickley sweet embrace' yet."

Morley mutters something under his breath, but when the group looks at him, he merely says, "Sorry."

So Malice returns her attention to the Storyteller, as she says, "What are you going on about? You sound as if you're reciting something, yeah?"

"Yes, it's a poem. 'The Grim Seduction of the Flower' or some such. It's the best source I can recall to reference what happens when, begging your pardon, someone is brave—or foolish—enough to ingest the petals of the black rose." And he looks at her and leers a grin.

Malice feels the urge to growl at him, but forces herself to smile back. She certainly has a nagging desire for her ticktock heart to fail right now so she'll have the freedom to pounce upon the Storyteller and beat his face into a bloody pulp. But of course that would be wrong, because that's why I'm here, after all—to prevent any more murderous outbursts.

Morley, again, mutters something under his breath that Malice can't quite make out.

"My apologies," Morley mumbles, while lifting a wing.

The Storyteller tuts at him. "As far as I know, according to that so-called poet—"

Morley makes a grunty, yippy noise. "Apologies."

The Storyteller turns away from him, before continuing. "As I was saying, according to the so-called poet, when he chewed the petals, he became 'seduced by the black rose's silken mouth' or somesuch nonsense."

Morley mutters, "Velvety lips—it's a metaphor where he likened the petals of the flower to soft pillowy lips."

The Storyteller, ignoring him, says, "He described it as like a deadening of his heart and a filling of his soul with darkness. The chap quite seemed to enjoy it, and wrote on and on about it in his little word doodles. He said it filled him with the inspiration to write great poems, but his so-called poems were all sappy, overwritten nonsense filled with that dark romanticism my daughter seems so fond of. So, as far as I know, a major side effect of the rose is being mightily pleased with yourself, and feeling utterly confident in writing grand poetry that actually is utter rubbish." He chuckles.

Morley shouts, "You blaspheme! His name is Algernon Swinburne, and he wasn't delusional! He is one of the greatest masters of poetry of all time! When he partook of the black rose, it elevated his talent to the greatest heights ever attained!"

The Storyteller rolls his eyes. "Oh?"

"Without question!" Morley shouts, flapping his wings angrily. "And your ignorance of the dark master's dark verse merely reveals your own incompetency! The poem is 'The Dark Seduction of the Flower', not Grim Seduction. And the line is 'wrapped in its sickly sweet embrace,' not trickley, as you misquoted."

The Storyteller says, "I think you must be mistaken. But what does it matter? It's all twaddle anyway."

Morley stomps his foot and shouts, "I am not mistaken, and it's not twaddle!" causing Hatter to let out a little chuckle and say, "Blimey, he really ruffled your feathers, lad."

The Storyteller waves his hand dismissively. "You don't know of what you speak. You may have learned one or two lines, but I have studied the entirety of his scrawlings. You merely repeat the man's prattling words without understanding. Why, you're like a parrot. I am capable of understanding his words. It's inane babbling, and delusional. For according to his poems, he not only thought the petals lent him talent, but he thought that he could transfer it to another person by touching their mouth." He arches his brow.

Morley leans his head back and lets out a screech of outrage. "See? That's how I know you don't understand his verse. It's a kiss. He wrote he could transfer the dark poetry by kissing them on the mouth."

The Storyteller looks taken aback, but in a mocking way. "Nonetheless, it only proves he was a misguided fool, because only an idiot would believe that'd actually work."

"I'm not an idiot!" Morley shouts.

Hatter chuckles, says, "Oh, you walked right into that one," which causes Morley to shoot him a glare.

Malice looks on, feeling hopelessly confused. "Am I meant to kiss someone, then?" she says.

The Storyteller throws her a reassuring look before turning back to Morley. With a crooked little smile, the Storyteller says, "My dear flamingo, I have been leading you on a bit. I wondered, when I saw you here, why you would tag along. But it was quite easy to figure. You aspire to write great poetry, so you seek to leech as much of the borrowed poetical talent as you can. And if you can't chew its petals directly, well there's the second-best option isn't there?"

"Preposterous!" Morley exclaims.

The Storyteller says, "I do admit, partaking of the Black Rose Kiss is much safer than eating the petals directly. I recommend that only Malice should do that, since she needs it as a kind of medicine."

But Malice finally catches on. "What what?! Was your plan to somehow get me to kiss you after I chewed the petal, to allow you to write better poetry? You told me you wished to support me in my difficult time!"

Morley says, "Well, yes...of course I do... but if you wished to kiss me, what would be the harm? You might enjoy the poems I wrote afterward. The art is the most important consideration..."

Malice shouts, "Why, you little rascal! I should wring your long pink neck! I mean, I'm sorry." She feels the thoughts from her ticktock heart struggling to regain control. She smiles. "I understand where you're coming from..." She scowls. "You creep! I never kissed you before. Why would I start now! Why, you're not even my type!" And she looks at the Mad Hatter's lips before she catches herself and cringes.

Hatter's eyebrows rise up, and he touches his lips as if expecting to find a piece of food there.

Malice shifts her gaze away as Morley stomps his foot and exclaims, "But I deserve to be imbued with the dark poetry. More so than you, for it is I who has so valiantly toiled to create divine poetic verse. The rose's powers are wasted on you—you won't even appreciate it, and your verse is irredeemably atrocious, besides."

Malice frowns, now smiles. "I understand your concerns. Poetry is very important to you, though, you could express yourself more politely..." She scowls fiercely, "You prat." She raises her fist and shakes it.

Hatter says, "My dear, are you okay?"

Humpty says, "It must be her heart. It's struggling to maintain control." His brow knits in worry.

"It's overheating, like." Hatter says. "She might blow."

She glares at him, so he lifts his hands in a gesture of surrender and says, "I meant your heart, not your body, love."

Malice says, "I should like to bludgeon you and the duck right now."

"I'm not a duck!" Morley squawks.

Malice, still talking to Hatter, says, "You're just so—" She was about to say "punchable" but a sudden wave of affection comes over her, and she smiles huge at him, and shouts, "Huggable!"

Hatter says, "I say, she's gone quite mental, she has." He turns to the Storyteller. "She could crack at any moment. That would be a bother, wouldn't it? After all, it's a bit early in the morning to be murdered, isn't it?"

"Yes," the Storyteller says, "And I should not like to clean up any blood...or feathers. You must eat from one of the petals immediately...here." He briefly lifts the glass dome, plucks a petal, hands it to Malice. "Just a nibble..." he says.

CHAPTER SEVEN

"Ah, I'll just have a nibble. I'm not very hungry," Malice jokes. She takes a little bite, sets the rest of the petal beneath the glass dome.

And she chews. It tastes bitter, but since the portion is so small, it's no problem to handle.

Everyone is staring at her, and she feels herself starting to blush. "Hey, quit staring at me like that! You're creeping me out!"

They look away and fidget.

Malice now definitely feels something happening inside of her. It's a slight chilling in her chest combined with a kind of numbness. The cold sensation is much less severe than when her heart stops functioning altogether.

Malice closes her eyes and pays attention to what's happening within. Her anger subsides, replaced by an eery sort of calm. She feels her emotions settle somewhere in between the cruel fury of heartlessness and the sappy kindness the ticktock heart causes when it's operating at full force. She is somewhere in the middle.

And yet...

She tilts her head to the side as she ponders.

And yet there is an extra sort of mental feeling—a quality unique to the black rose itself, almost like a comforting cocoon of melancholy.

Humpty says, "What are you feeling?"

Without opening her eyes, Malice replies, "If I had to describe it, I would call it...the sweet embrace of darkness." She opens her eyes, just in time to see the Storyteller roll his. Morley, meanwhile, is gazing at her as if she is an enchanting painting. Hatter's brows are furrowed as he watches her, and Humpty's mouth is hanging open in shock.

Morley says, "My, what darkly poetic phrases you're using, My Queen."

Malice quirks her brow saucily at him. "Ah, bird most pink, I know now, I think, the darkness's sweet embrace, that fills me with poetic grace."

"Brilliant!" Morley exclaims. He tentatively circles the table, edging closer to her.

Humpty says, "So I take it you no longer want to kill us all?"

The Storyteller mutters, "Though you just may kill us with your horrendous verse."

Malice crinkles her nose playfully at him. "No, the treatment seems to be working, for now at least."

"Hip hip hooray!" Hatter shouts, startling everyone. He pumps his fist and whoops.

Malice smiles slightly and gives him a slow nod—normally she might have laughed at him, but the rose is altering her behavior, making her more relaxed.

Humpty, however, does laugh, and claps.

Morley stands in front of Malice now, peering at her. He says, "Ha ha, yes. I am so relieved for you, that I should like to just hug and kiss you!"

Malice makes a clucking sound with her mouth. "Ah, you're so transparent! Now I see why you were so eager to tag along once you learned I was going to munch upon the black rose."

Morley squirms, and Malice chuckles at him. He says, "I, uh, well. I meant no offense."

Malice gives him a crooked little grin. "You're lucky. The fact that the medicine seems to be working pleases me. And so I shall give you your kiss, but make no mistake—you shall chew none of my petals. They're too precious to give away."

Morley nods. "As you wish, My Queen."

"Lean closer, love." She chuckles at Morley's timidness, as he shuffles forward. She says, "Ah, why so shy, my dear? After all, we're not even the same species, so don't get any funny ideas."

The Storyteller contributes, "People are known to kiss their pets—dogs and such, you know."

Hatter says, "I wonder if the Cheshire Cat has ever been kissed. Where is he, anyway?"

Ignoring him, Malice looks into Morley's eyes and says, "So you shall be my pet for the moment. We shall see if you gain the inspiration of dark poetry. Perhaps you too shall feel this seductive, dark mood. It is rather thrilling in its own strange way." She leans her head forward. "Oh, I am inspired with the dark poetry right now.

"What I feel is not shallow bliss.

Instead, I feel the soothing abyss,

And share it with you, with this kiss..."

Malice makes almost a purring sound as she closes her eyes, presses her lips to his beak.

They kiss for several seconds.

Morley pulls away, and she watches the shocked expression on his face.

Teasingly, she says, "Was I that bad?"

Morley's eyes are open wide. "Oh no...it's spectacular. The dark romanticism, it fills me. The art of poetry flows in my veins, is now like the very air I breath."

"I'll have what he's having," Hatter quips. But he suddenly realizes what he was insinuating. "Oh! I didn't mean I'd like to kiss you."

With a breathy voice, Malice says, "Would it really be so terrible?" She gazes intensely into his eyes.

Hatter says, "I didn't mean it like that. I'm sure it would be quite nice. Just. Oh, bugger!" He crosses his arms and scowls.

Malice says, "And how about you, Humpty? Do you yearn to feel these pillowy soft lips?"

"I, um—" He begins to blush. "Such a— hadn't thought—"

Malice says, "I was joking, love."

Morley says:

"Jokes, just like love

Can both strike like a glove."

Malice sniffs. "Not your best work."

The Storyteller says, "You'll have to forgive me if I don't wish to witness any further. It seems, my girl, that the black rose has turned you into a mischievous little minx, with a penchant for poetry no less. I can't wait to be rid of you, and both of you two's poems. Meeting's over, take your flower and begone. Don't pluck it too much or it shall die. If you run out, don't come back expecting more—I won't be able to help you. I trust you can find your way out..." The Storyteller stands, and says, "Ta-ta," before walking away.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Malice feels mellow and sensual...it is like her body is tingling and she is deeply attuned to the sad beauty of the world and the beautifully wretched souls within it.

The rose petals have made her melancholy and morose, but it's better than being a raging lunatic or a sappy, overly sweet goody goody. Besides, many artists and poets seem to have reveled in the whole dark, brooding artist persona. Isn't it supposed to mean that one has a deep soul?

She thinks about this as they walk back to the castle.

At one point, she says to no one in particular, "Aren't poets known for being passionate lovers?"

Hatter, who is carrying the domed rose, stops walking. "Malice!" he exclaims. "How uncouth of you."

Malice presses her fist to her hip. "Oh, stop being so blooming prudish! I can be as uncouth as I wish to be! I'm the Queen!"

"And a most glorious and majestic queen you are!" sucks up Morley.

Malice chuckles at him. "My dear bird, I believe you are buttering me up for another kiss. You're quite enjoying the feeling, are ya?"

"Oh, most definitely, My Queen! The dark poetry flows through me, like a spirit wandering the halls of a grand museum. Oh, I can't wait to set my beak to paper and write the words down!"

Malice says, "How marvelous for you, but I shan't kiss you anymore, because you've already had enough, and besides, the lips of the other two boys are obviously jealous."

"What?" Hatter says. "Jealous of a bird?"

Humpty merely shakes his head and says, "No."

"No, love," Malice says. "I meant, jealous of the sweet, delicious melancholy I'm feeling. I wish to share with you this delectable, rapturous feeling. I feel ironically sad and invigorated at the same time. Why, it's a kind of inspired madness! You'd love it!"

Morley says, "Like the divine madness of the great poets!"

"Yes," Hatter says, while licking his lips like at the aroma of a delicious meal. "It sounds a jolly good time. But there's the whole notion of the kiss. It wouldn't be proper."

"Oh, silly billy! We could pretend to be brother and sister." She punches his arm.

"Oi! What's gotten into you?"

"The scrumptious black rose! It's filled me with blackness. Now my insides match my dress and my hair."

Hatter pouts while rubbing his arm. "But you're just not acting your usual self, is all..."

Malice smiles crookedly. "Perhaps the new me is better. I rather adore myself right now!" She whirls at Humpty with her hands formed into claws and makes a show of staring creepily and crinkly-eyed at him, "And what about you, fit bloke Humpty? Are you scared of girls, too?"

Humpty says, "No, of course not!" He puffs his chest out. "I'm quite brave around them...I mean you...we are talking about you, correct?"

Malice rolls her eyes. "Of course. Do you see any other girls around here? And you're a boy, and you're not afraid of girls, so I just want to give you a little peck on the lips. I want you to feel what I'm feeling. It's marvelous!"

Humpty looks down and mutters something that can't be made out. Malice thinks he just might be starting to blush again.

"What was that?" Malice says. "Speak up, lad!"

He looks up and meets her eyes. "I just don't want it like that. It makes it less special..."

Malice catches her breath. "Cor, you're a charming little bugger, aren't ya?" She places her hand upon her chest. "But it needn't be so dramatic as that. I just want to peck at you lightly for a bit to transfer the black rose's majestic effects—no snogging necessary."

"Yes, but..." Humpty says.

"What if we pretended we were man and wife?"

"Crikey!" Humpty says.

"Or I could be your mother," Malice teases.

"My goodness!" Humpty exclaims.

Hatter chuckles to himself. Morley looks uncomfortable, silently watching.

Malice says to Humpty, "What if we were brother and sister?"

"Then, most definitely not!"

"But—"

"No, it quite creeps me out!" Humpty shouts.

Hatter chuckles at him. "You are much too opposed to kissing her. She's pretty and only two years younger. Why, if I were your age—" A shocked expression comes over his face and he shuts his mouth forcefully.

Malice whirls on him with her eyes open wide in a playfully mocking way. "If you were my age, what?"

"Never mind," Hatter murmurs, and now he begins to blush, which doesn't happen often.

Malice teases Hatter, "What if I were in a coma like Sleeping Beauty was, and the only way to wake me was to kiss me upon the lips. What then?"

"Well, I suppose I would kiss you, but you're not in a coma. Let's not play 'what if'."

Malice claps her hands together and scrunches her shoulders. "Ooh! I know! Let's play a game of what if!"

"You tease us..." Hatter mutters.

Malice says to Hatter, "What if I were bitten upon the lips by a venomous snake, and the only way to save my life was to kiss me..."

Hatter says, "Though it would pain me, I'd have to let you die."

Malice shoots him a glare. "Oh, you're no fun. You're such a prude...and possibly a prat." She sticks her tongue out at him.

Hatter averts his gaze.

Malice huffs and says to Humpty, "Well, I pose the same question to you. If a snake poisoned me and the only way to save me was to kiss me..."

Humpty runs his hand over the top of his head. "Yes, of course I would. But that hasn't actually happened. Please, let's cease discussing this further. It quite upsets me."

Malice believes him. Humpty and Hatter are close to being fed up with her shenanigans. Still, she can't help herself—she'll push things just a tad bit further. She says to Humpty, "Well, what if we were both in a play, and your part required you to kiss me in a certain key scene. Wouldn't you do it, then? It's the job of an actor, and only make-believe nonetheless."

Humpty appears to be flummoxed. "Well, I suppose I would, then, if the part required. But, there is no play..."

Hatter issues a frustrated groan. "Oh, leave the poor lad alone, won't you? At this rate, we'll never get home."

"Yes!" Morley pipes in. "I need to get to the castle to spend time on my poetry!"

Hatter says, "And we shan't speak anymore of kisses."

CHAPTER NINE

Malice checks in on Morley from time to time to see him feverishly scrawling poems in his room by dipping his beak in ink. He's enjoying the black rose's darkly sensuous sensations as much as she, which is why she wants to share the fun with the two fuddy-duddies, Humpty and Hatter.

When she asks the Cheshire Cat if he wants a kiss, he refuses, saying the experience would be "repulsive and demeaning".

Well, fine then...

Of course, there are many things she has to do, and Wonderland could very well be in grave danger from the Snark, and she has to talk to the Jabberwock.

However...

She's having so much fun being under the influence of the black rose—the delectable seduction of the black rose—and she wants to experience the ride completely, for she suspects that the intoxication will be intense at first, but then wear off.

Who knows? She thinks. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and be back to my dysfunctional bipolar self. I'll have to enjoy this feeling as long as I can.

And so she does a few giggling cartwheels, writes down some words of her play.

In a sudden fit of inebriated conscientiousness, she gives orders to her guards to send a message throughout the land, requesting to speak to a Tin Knight, concerning the matter of a ticktock heart. She knows it may come back to haunt her, but the black rose is making her impulsive, and deep down, she knows it's the right thing to do.

A few minutes later, she regrets what she did, and thinks she should revoke the order, but the guards have already sped off. How foolish she would seem.

She sulks.

A few minutes later, her mind begins to wander and the idea pops into her head of who in the castle she can pester.

Why, the Queen of Hearts, of course.

After all, Malice's talk with the Storyteller has raised numerous questions.

Malice misses the last step down the staircase leading to the dungeon, she rolls with the fall upon the floor and begins cackling at her own clumsiness.

"Mreeowww!" the Cheshire Cat exclaims as Malice rolls on the floor in her moderately poofy dress, while laughing wickedly, from the throbbing pain in her hip.

"What a tumble!" the Cat's floating head says.

"Are you all right, My Queen?" says the guard card who's accompanying her.

"I'm smashing!" Malice says. "Or is that, crashing?" She meets eyes with the Cheshire Cat and they both start laughing again.

After the guard card helps her up, they make their way to the Queen of Hearts' dungeon cell.

When they're inside, Malice stands before the chained Queen of Hearts.

"Malice, you've returned." She scowls. "And you brought the floating furball."

Malice says, "Yes, he follows me around like a puppy."

"Do not." The Cat sniffs.

"Just teasing," Malice says. To the Queen of Hearts, she says, "I have attained the black rose from the Storyteller. I even noshed upon one of its petals."

The Queen of Hearts' eyes widen. "Is that so, dear? I should like to munch a bit of the petal myself...as my reward for helping you."

"I already rewarded you by fixing your face."

"Well, you are a most gracious ruler. A benevolent ruler who surely would share her bounty."

"I'm not so benevolent and kind anymore—that was the point of taking the rose petal in the first place." She chuckles. "Besides, the Storyteller informed me that I'm the only one who should risk eating the petals directly. That's why I've been trying to kiss Hatter and Humpty."

The Queen of Hearts' shoulders slump. "Oh... Praytell, why do you want to kiss those boys?"

"My kiss transfers some of the rose's effects."

"Oh, I see."

"Yes, well...the reason I came to talk to you is that before I talked to the Storyteller, someone told me that the Snark plans to overthrow me and unite the monster tribes and bring back something called Woeland..."

"Gah!" the Queen of Hearts exclaims. She tries to shake her fist, but the rattling chains prevent her from lifting her fist as she wants. "The Snark! The miserable sod!"

"So you think he's a credible threat?"

"Of course he is! You saw him that one time! He's a daft loon! Completely off his trolley, he is."

"According to my source, the Snark's a little miffed at you for killing off the rest of the snarks and running off the Monsters of Woeland."

"Well the Snark's a nutter. You can't believe anything he says."

"So was Woeland real? Did you massacre the snarks?"

"Well, I don't have to answer any of your questions. But I'll answer a few, for a kiss."

"What?" Malice exclaims. "The last thing I want to do is kiss you! In case you haven't noticed, we're enemies."

"So what are you going to do, torture me?" the Queen of Hearts teases.

"A splendid idea!" the Cat exclaims.

The Queen of Hearts says, "She won't, though. Not with her heart mended."

Malice sighs. "I wouldn't call it 'mended' exactly. It's more like it's...calmed down."

"Subdued," the Queen of Hearts suggests.

"Quite," Malice says. "I'm no longer as sappy sweet, but I still have my morals."

The Queen of Hearts says, "And your honor, too, I presume. I trust you to keep your word, so if I agree to answer a few questions, you'll give me a kiss, agreed?"

"Oh, very well! I suppose it shall not be such a big deal if it's quick."

"No snogging?" the Queen of Hearts teases.

"No snogging."

"If it helps, you may pretend I'm Hatter. You fancy him, don't you?"

"We're different ages," Malice says. She can feel herself beginning to blush. "So did you kill the snarks?"

The Queen of Hearts snorts. "Yes, I killed all the snarks, all except for the last one left. I'm sure he has a name, like the Jabberwock does, but since there's only one of him about, we just call him The Snark. I'm rather proud of vanquishing them, they're rather detestable creatures. Of course, it's a bit of a waste to tell you—you'll just forget all about it by tomorrow."

"I shan't," Malice says.

The Queen of Hearts rolls her eyes. "What else do you want to know, while I'm in the mood to brag about it..."

"Did you kill the other monsters as well?"

"Yes, like the bandersnatches and were-creatures. I ran them out of this area."

"Did the monsters really deserve that?"

"Of course they did! They're monsters! And I was just a terrified little girl. Can you imagine how frightened I was?!"

"But monsters can't help what they are," Malice says.

The Queen of Hearts says, "Fiddle-faddle! They're ugly and scary and needed to be destroyed!"

Malice says, "Did they ever try to harm you, before you went after them?"

"They scared me, and that was enough. That's why I sent them into Woeland in the first place, to get them out of my head! Of course, I'm sure you won't remember any of this."

"I shall," Malice protests.

The Queen of Hearts says, "I think I've answered enough questions. I'm ready for my delicious kiss." She puckers her lips.

"Eww," the Cat says.

"Not yet," Malice says. "Where did Woeland come from?"

"I created Woeland, when I was a little girl, as a safe place to put the monsters. Little did I know I would be sucked in and trapped in Woeland with them."

Malice says, "So you obliterated them, just because they were scary-looking."

"They were monsters! And I'm a human. You are too, my dear. Given enough time, the monsters would have destroyed the humans if they could. I really think I have fulfilled my obligation. Ready for my kiss..."

"Not yet," Malice says. "Just a few more questions. You came here as a little girl, but now you have the appearance of a woman in her mid-thirties."

"Yes, yes, that's because after I grew up, I used a spell to keep everyone in Wonderland from aging."

"Why?"

"Because I don't wish to age further. Are you daft? Enough of this."

Malice says, "Did you bring over a bunch of little girls from the Outside World?"

"Yes, back when I was a little girl. I wanted some friends around my age. But they were mean to me! None of them wanted to be my friend! I cried so much!"

Malice says, "So those girls rejected you."

"They ganged up on me. But then I realized they were just jealous of my superiority! So I banished them. I should have killed them all! Of course, you're going to forget all of this by tomorrow, due to the spell."

"I shan't— Wait, what spell?"

The Queen of Hearts says, "I wanted to erase all memory of the very existence of that wretched Woeland. So I cast a spell over everyone in Wonderland, so they forget all about the past, before Wonderland came into being."

"The Storyteller remembered," Malice says.

"Well, you're not him, are you? Oh, you may remember for the rest of the day, but after a night's sleep, you shall have no recollection. The same goes for the Cat and the guard card."

"Whatever," the Cat says.

"Well, blast! But maybe the spell won't work on me," Malice says, "since I'm special and all."

"Doubtful," the Queen of Hearts says. "I told Alice a couple times, only to have her forget."

"What if I were to write it all down?"

"Won't work. I thought of that, you know. When next you try to read what you wrote down, you'll find you only wrote gibberish."

"Well, fiddle sticks!" Malice says. "Magic is so...bothersome! Cancel the spell, then."

"That I shan't do. However, I've answered enough questions. I'm ready for my kiss now." She puckers.

"But you said I'll forget it all."

The Queen of Hearts shrugs. "That doesn't affect our agreement. I answered your questions. You aren't going to be dishonorable, and renege, are you? I mean, your heart is still keeping you moral, correct?"

Malice sighs. "Yes, the black rose is merely taking the edge off any super-sappiness. Oh, but wait, I do have one more question."

"I've answered all the questions I'm obligated to."

"Well I hope you'll answer anyway. Do you happen to know of someone known as the Tin Knight?"

The Queen of Hearts narrows her eyes at her. "You don't need to know."

"Why not?"

"Just pray you never meet the Tin Knight. It would only complicate your life."

"Why?" Malice says.

"Why do you wish to know?"

"Are you asking me questions now?"

"Bah. I tire of this. I want my kiss."

"Oh, very well. I don't want to waste any more time talking to you if I shall just forget it all. Prepare for your kiss, and don't think I shall enjoy this."

CHAPTER TEN

Malice is determined that the repugnant kiss with the Queen of Hearts shan't be the last kiss of the day. After lunch, in her chambers, she grabs paper and a pen, and begins writing. First, despite what the Queen of Hearts said, she attempts to write down the history of Woeland. The Cheshire Cat hovers there, aiding her memory.

However, when she writes the words, no matter how hard she tries, she ends up writing gibberish.

Having tried that, she moves on to the next part of her agenda: writing a couple of scenes in her play.

The Cat helps out as her feline creative consultant. She is driven by the divine inspiration of the rose.

Half an hour later, she rushes into one of the courtyards to pester Hatter and Humpty.

Malice waits for Hatter to make his shot.

Hatter lands his arrow a bit to the right of the bullseye. "Drat!" he exclaims.

Malice says, "Okay, your game is on hold. For I have written a scene of a play. The Cat helped me. I wrote parts for you two blokes, and the Cat as well. We must play the scene, immediately!" She smiles crookedly at them.

Hatter and Humpty glance at each other, indecisive.

Malice exclaims, "Oh come on, you two! You can shoot your little arrows any time. You don't want to offend me, now, do you?"

"Very well, then," Hatter says.

Humpty says, "Yes, I'm sure it shall be a jolly good show." He peers at the papers in her hand. "Is that the script?"

Malice says, "Yes, I have one for each of you, with only your own lines written out, to keep it exciting. But I don't want you to study them or read ahead. It'll be more fun that way!" She hands them each a piece of paper. "Now...I shall set up the scene. Oh no!" She points at the Cat, and recites her line: "'Tis one who dances with darkness. A witch, who has snuck into my bedroom here." She murmurs, "Imagine we're in my bedroom and I am dressed in my skimpy nightgown. Be polite where your eyes travel, lads." She winks.

Hatter smirks and Humpty gives forth two little coughs.

Reading from the paper, Hatter says, "Dastardly practitioner of the dark arts, what is this 'kissing magic' of which you speak?"

"No no, you don't say that line yet," Malice says. "I'll tell you when. Where was I? Oh yeah, look, a witch!" After pointing at the Cat, who is rolling his eyes, she turns to the guard card, and holds her hand up, palm up.

"Yes, My Queen," the guard card says. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a pointed black witch's hat.

She places it atop the Cat's head, who hams it up, putting on a fierce, fang-baring face. But he must remain relatively still to keep the hat in place.

Malice says, "When you're done trying to scare us, it's your line."

"Oh, righto!" the Cat says. "Behold! As I put you under a deadly spell of slumber... Beezuuuu!"

Malice engages in acting. She looks about, twisting her head from side to side, causing her long black hair to flare. "Wha—?! You! No! Why, whatever is coming over me?! It is, as...if...as if... I am suddenly seduced by the irresistible lure of that mimicry of death. O sleep, you doth claim me!" She presses the back of her hand to her forehead and swoons, as the Cat delivers his best theatric cackle (which isn't that good). In fact, Hatter giggles a bit at it, before saying, "My apologies."

Malice stretches her arms and pretends to yawn, but she finds it's actually quite hard to act as if you're yawning when you've never attempted to do so. Usually yawning simply happens, like a reflex. Nonetheless, the show must go on... "Oh, the comfort of oblivious slumber beckons me. I know it is a spell that compels me, yet I cannot escape its snare, and so I tumble into the dark abyss of sleep." She presses her hands together and tilts her head, pretending to lay her head down to sleep, though she is still standing. The magic of acting.

Malice perks up from her pretend sleep. "Now, in this part, the two handsome heroes whose parts you're playing, named Himpley and the Mud Hunter—"

"What's a Mud Hunter anyway?" Hatter says.

Malice, ignoring him, continues, "Those two heroes burst into the room."

"I burst!" Hatter exclaims, punching and kicking through an imaginary door.

"Excellent acting!" Malice encourages.

"Thank you, Your Royalship," Hatter says.

Humpty stands behind him, while saying, "And I suppose I follow him in. But praytell, why does he hunt mud? Or am I misconstruing something? I'm so confused."

"It's just his silly name," Malice says. "It means nothing."

"Ah," Hatter says, "if that's the case, might I change my character's name to 'The Mad Hatter'?"

Malice shakes her head and shushes him. "Please stick to your lines. Witch, it's your turn to speak."

"Oh, is it?" the Cat says. "Yes, um, let me remember my lines. Oh yes..." He lets forth a theatric cackle. "Ah, the two handsome heroes have arrived to rescue the amazing, beautiful, and alluring damsel. Sorry, Malice insisted on keeping that line. Anyway, you two blokes—"

Malice interrupts, "Daring heroes. That's the proper line."

The Cat gives a long-suffering huff, before relinquishing. "You two daring heroes are much too late to rescue the ridiculously beautiful and sexy 19-year-old damsel."

Hatter and Humpty chuckle a little, but Malice shoots them a look so they remain quiet, before going back to pretend sleep.

The Cat/Witch continues, "For I have cast a spell of slumber upon her!" Another cackle. "The only thing that can awaken her is 'kissing magic'! And if it isn't invoked immediately, the ravishing damsel's slumber shall soon slip into the dark eternity of death."

Malice grins in her "sleep". She was quite pleased with herself for writing that glorious line—the black rose had inspired her.

The Cat continues, "Her slumber is no mere catnap. Get it? Because I'm a cat."

Malice opens her eyes briefly to glower at him.

The Cat says, "Oh, have I gone off script? How naughty of me. Here's my next line then—"

Malice is forced to open her eyes once again. "No! It's Hatty's line."

Hatter says, "Actually, Miss 19-year-old damsel, the name's Hunter." He peers down at his paper and squints. "Dastardly practitioner of the dark arts, what is this 'kissing magic' of which you speak?"

The Cat answers, "Only a kiss upon the lips by two handsome men in the vicinity of the enthralling damsel's enchanting body may revive her. And if it's not done within the next minute, she shall die! Mwah hah hah." Cackle cackle. He moves his head too much, causing his hat to slip off. "Oh bother."

Humpty reads his next line: "You fiend, what do you mean the kiss can be 'near the damsel's body'?"

"Thank you," the Cat says as Hatter sets the hat back atop his head. He continues orating theatrically. "According to the conditions of the spell, it is required that two sexy guys press their lips to another's lips. To make it clear, they don't necessarily have to kiss the damsel's lips. And there are four sets of lips in this room..."

Malice closes her eyes again, as Hatter reads: "You're saying we can kiss you? Do you want us to?"

The Cat lets forth a feline hiss. "Of course not! I won't let you. Of course, according to the process of elimination, if you don't kiss the damsel...there are two other pairs of lips."

Humpty's voice sounds genuinely alarmed as he recites his line. "You wish us to kiss each other?"

Malice opens one eye to see Hatter and Humpty exchanging embarrassed glances.

Malice giggles, and closes her eye again.

Humpty says, "This play is ridiculous. It's unrealistic."

Out of the side of her mouth, Malice mutters, "Don't break character."

Hatter recites his next line. "I have no desire to kiss him, so I shall kiss the lovely damsel." He breaks character to say, "You're still too young, Malice."

With her eyes still closed, Malice mutters out the side of her mouth, "I'm 19." She pretends to be sleeping like a log.

Hatter says, "The script states that my character now kisses you after gazing at you and saying, 'Oh what a thing of beauty it is that lies before me'."

Malice doesn't respond but a grin creeps up the side of her "sleeping" face.

Humpty says, "Wouldn't the 'witch' try to stop him? It makes no sense."

"It's make-believe," Malice says out the side of her mouth.

Hatter says, "Oh, so you're 19 as far as my character is concerned. How clever of you. I have to give it to you, you didn't give up, did you? Just kept going until you got your way. Fine, since it's just a kiss—nothing romantic—and you're '19'. Fine, I give in. You win."

Malice knows that isn't what his line is supposed to be. On the paper, his line reads: "I cannot resist her delectable lips!", then he's supposed to kiss her, but in this instance she'll let it pass.

She feels soft lips press against her own for several seconds, then pull away.

Even though she's dying to open her eyes, she manages to keep them shut. The grin aside her face grows.

She waits impatiently. Humpty's line is next—she doesn't want to spook him.

Humpty reads: "You cad! You have feasted upon the divine ambrosia of the sleeping angel's lips, and the jealousy within me is like a fire inside!"

Before, his recital of his lines had seemed wooden, but just now he'd delivered his line quite convincingly.

Humpty continues, "I must taste the glorious nectar of this perfect girl's lips myself. She is like a pussycat whose lips are covered with catnip!" (The Cat had insisted on putting that line in.) "And so now I shall kiss her and enter into the heavenly clouds of her pillowy lips!"

Malice waits, with her eyes closed. She hears Humpty move close to her, and his quickening breaths.

Humpty is hesitating.

Malice waits. Any moment now...

Humpty exclaims, "No! I can't do it. I won't!"

Malice opens her eyes to gaze at him as he says, "I know you really want me to, and you think it's just a play, but... I didn't— I don't want it— I don't want my kisses with you to be...like this... Not like this!"

Malice puts her hand upon her hip as she watches him running off the courtyard. "Crikey!" she exclaims. "Such a dramatic improvisation!" But now she is mulling over his words, and suddenly the meaning behind them strike home. "Aww...my dear sappy Humpty..." She sighs to herself.

Hatter exclaims, "The poor sod doesn't know what he's missing! Now I know what you meant when you called the effects a kind of madness. Why, this is a madness even more delicious than my usual sort!"

The Cat says, "Hate to interrupt, but play's over, I'm bored. So, cheerio."

No one pays attention as he disappears.

May as well have fun, make the best of the situation and all. "I'm glad you came around, Hatty. So, now that you're in a proper intoxicated state with me, care to have a bit of proper mad fun, and bash things about this evening?"

"That would be smashing, dahling."

"Then let the festivities begin!"

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Hatter and Malice give in to the wild abandon of the black rose's intoxication.

They spend about half an hour dancing and running about the castle.

The Cheshire Cat is their official observer, watching gleefully as the two wreak havoc.

They decide to go room to room turning the furniture upside down. Of course, that means a lot of items end up being spilled upon the floor, but that doesn't bother Malice, because she's focused. And no one better complain, for, as she declares, "It is Her Majesty's Pleasure!" She shouts it out as a bit of a joke, but soon enough, she starts yelling a variation of the phrase before each piece of furniture.

"I flip this chair at Her Majesty's Pleasure!"

"I claim this stool for Her Majesty's Pleasure!"

"By the power of Her Majesty's Pleasure!" she shouts before she and Hatter both flip a table, sending a vase and various papers sprawling.

Soon Hatter joins in on the shouting, as they travel from room to room.

He says, "For Her Majesty's Pleasure!" before flipping a three legged console table in one of the hallways.

He calls out, "I vanquish this sofa for Her Majesty's Pleasure!" before pushing it over.

And Malice and Hatter are cackling and guffawing as they meander room to room. They seek additional company, but everyone is a stick in the mud and don't join in. The guard cards watch on blankly, trying not to look upset—they'll be cleaning the mess later, so it would feel awkward to ask them to participate.

"Humpty!" they both call out.

"Come join us!"

"Yes, come have some fun!"

But he doesn't reply to their calls.

At one point, Malice sees Humpty peek out at them from a corner.

"Humpty!" she calls. "Please join us!"

But Humpty shakes his head and retreats back down the hallway.

"Wait, come back!" Malice calls.

"Yeah, come back!" Hatter adds.

No response from Humpty.

The Cheshire Cat is floating there and she could send him out to fetch Humpty, but he'd most likely refuse, since he always claims he's an observer who doesn't interfere with others and their choices. So Malice doesn't bother trying.

She calls out after Humpty, "You'd really enjoy this if you let me get you drunk on my kiss!"

There's no response from Humpty.

Malice looks to Hatter, who shrugs and says, "Perhaps the lad is intimidated by your gloriousness. It's perfectly understandable.

Malice gnaws at her lip. "Am I truly so intimidating?"

"No. Now that you have your psychotic episodes under control, you're quite pleasant. The boy is just quite shy, I think."

Malice huffs. "A boy. That's the gist of it, isn't it? Perhaps he's too much of a boy to handle me. He's not yet mature, like you, Hatty." She looks meaningfully into his eyes.

Hatter clears his throat nervously. "You have a ways to go yourself. But I'm sure you'll mature a lot in the next few years."

Malice arches a brow. "And in a few years, you shan't be so reluctant to kiss me?"

He looks away. "It's quite too early to speculate. But as for now...we have a lot more furniture to upturn."

"For Her Majesty's Pleasure?" Malice teases, with an arched brow.

Hatter seems, to Malice, to be trying to collect himself, as if he's embarrassed. "Of course," he says, before turning over a chair.

Malice watches his movements, and suddenly becomes enthralled by his motions.

And the jolt of poetic inspiration flows through her, as if she's crackling with the electricity of poetry.

She's in a daze, as the words flow into her mind, perfectly formed—she need only recite them:

"Hatter ventures forth, bravely flipping chairs.

There's simply no escape.

Not one chair even dares!

Heroically, he's flipping tables,

Just like some hero from the fables.

With all his rakish furniture turning,

He's bound to set a naughty heart yearning."

Hatter starts to laugh, but he stops when he sees the expression on her face and the look in her eyes.

His mouth clamps shut and a puzzled expression comes over his face.

Malice figures he must've seen the seriousness she'd tried to hide behind the jokiness of a silly poem.

Hatter says, "You flatter me. But the truth is, many hearts are intoxicated to the point of making foolish mistakes..."

"Sometimes intoxication merely intensifies what was already there..."

"Malice, stop this silly talk. We both know you're feeling the effects of the black rose, so I shall be more understanding of your indiscretion. I'm old compared to you. And also, I'm quite mad..."

"We're all mad here," Malice says, repeating a phrase the Cheshire Cat likes to say.

"However, I am particularly mad. It's even in my name."

"I've grown rather fond of your madness. I find it interesting. At least it's not boring and normal..." She sticks out her tongue whilst making a yuck face.

Hatter crosses his arms, says, "I shan't continue with this sort of nonsense. At present, I prefer a quite different sort, having to do with setting tables' and chairs' legs pointed straight up. Why, they're like cockroaches set upon their backs!" He takes a few moments to ponder his own words. "My, what disturbing images are coursing through my mind right now! Such wiggly furniture legs!" He shudders and hugs himself for the consolation.

Malice smiles at him. "Okay, let's get back to furniture upheaval." After all, she doesn't want to end up going too far, and pushing him away.

He gives a nod and grin, so she presses her hands to a chair. That's when she smells it: the scent of chocolate.

"Hmmm?" Hatter says. He perks up, inhales. "Smells like cake." He licks his lips.

Malice nods. "Indeed. I must admit, with the swirly way I'm feeling, munching on chocolate cake would be a truly divine experience, don't you think, my dear Hatty?"

"Of course, My Queen. The Cook's sweets are always most splendid indeed."

"Indeed they are. Let's pay him a visit and partake...of his cake! I made a rhyme!"

"A splendid one, and yes, let's see what the chap is up to..."

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Cook's main kitchen is still filled with the warm, chocolatey scent, the stove still giving off waves of heat, but the siren-calling pastry has been whisked away and the Cook has left.

"To the Icing Room!" Malice shouts.

The room is down the hallway.

Malice opens the door into the opulent, extravagant room that exists solely for circular pastries such as donuts and cakes.

They immediately spot the Cook in the center of the room., which is circular, just like the pastries it honors.

The Cook, wearing his white chef's hat and apron, stands upon a dais, gazing intensely at a round, steaming chocolate cake atop a gleaming pedestal of pure silver.

This room, in which the Cook applies his glorious icing designs, is large, with a high arched ceiling and floors of deep red marble. A large sparkling chandelier lit with hundreds of birthday candles hangs from the ceiling.

Malice and Hatter approach him—their footsteps echo loudly. Yet still the Cook stares at the cake.

Malice and Hatter are standing off to the Cook's side, so perhaps he just hasn't seen them yet.

"Oi, Cook!" Malice says.

"Cook, hey, cook!" Hatter says.

From behind her, the Cheshire Cat says, "Wow, he's mighty...intense, isn't he?"

The Cheshire Cat must've appeared behind them when they weren't looking.

Malice circles the dais to face the Cook. She waves her hands in the air repeatedly. "Hey!" She stomps her foot. "Hey, artistic pastry genius!"

Finally the Cook lifts his head to look at her. "Queen?" It's like he's coming out of a daze. "I didn't hear you enter."

Malice waggles her brows. "Of course you didn't. You were too busy eying that luscious, plump cake."

The Cat swoops and hovers next to her cheek. "Heya, Cook. What's cooking?"

"Cat," the Cook says, as way of greeting. "Well, what was cooking is this cake. I made it for you, My Queen. I shall decorate it with a beautiful design inspired by our recent talks."

Malice giggles. "You mean our talks this morning? So long ago. Why, it's nearly nightfall now. Hmmm. What did we talk about?..." She taps her chin, trying to remember.

The Cook says, "Nuh uh, My Queen. It'll be a surprise, and when you see this cake next, it shall be a gloriously ornamented confection of splendor and radiant beauty! It shall be one of the most marvelous pieces of pastry you shall ever set your eyes and tongue upon, My Queen!"

At this point, Hatter, who had been quietly watching out of the Cook's view, sidles up next to Malice. "I would like to partake of the cake, as well."

The Cook draws back slightly—apparently he hadn't even noticed Hatter until just now. "Greetings, Hatter. Didn't see you there. But of course, the cake is much too big for one person and is meant to be shared, if she deems you worthy..." He looks to Malice.

"Of course I shall let him partake of my cake, the rake! Even if he refuses, I'll make...him. For goodness' sake...umm, um, is there another 'cake' rhyme I can make?" She is consumed with the black rose obsession to create poetry.

"Fake?" the Cat offers with a smirk.

Malice shouts back, "No, my passion's not fake. At the very notion, my head, I shake! This is the most glorious pastry that anyone could ever hope bake. And that's a truth you cannot shake!"

Hatter's jaw has dropped in a kind of shock. "Well played, My Queen, well played. I am in awe of your rhyme abilities."

Malice says, "Thank you, Hatty. Now, dear Cook. We are consumed by the mad desire to eat your marvelous pastry. The aroma called to us and lured us here. Your cooking is simply so marvelous, so scrumptious, that Her Highness and Mad Hatter here simply cannot resist its temptation. We simply must have the cake now! No need to put the icing on." She waves her hand dismissively.

"I'd like some cake too," the Cat says.

The expression upon the Cook's face collapses into dismay. "What? It hasn't even cooled, Your Highness."

"We don't care, do we Hatter?"

"Nope." He shakes his head.

"Cat?" she says.

The Cat's floating head wobbles side to side to indicate a "no".

The Cook stammers, "But— But— The icing. I'm going to make a special design, just for you. A special surprise."

Malice takes a guess when she says, "You mean black roses designs?"

When the Cook cringes, she knows she guessed correctly.

The Cook says, "You'll be gobsmacked when you see the design I've created. I put it together in my mind as I was staring at the unclothed cake. All that remains is for me to set my glorious creation in icing, just as a sculptor would set his conceptions in stone. But like so much other great art, it takes time, and so, regretfully, Your Royal Highness must remain patient..."

Malice stamps her foot. "Bollocks to that! The Cat's already out of the bag." She casts a sly side glance and grin to the Cat. "I already figured out your surprise, and I'm sure it would've been splendid, but the black rose flows through us, demanding we partake of that cake!" She smiles crookedly at him.

Hatter is nodding next to her, saying, "Yes, it is a most desperate urge."

The Cat adds, "Yes, icing can ofttimes be too sickeningly sweet, anyways."

The Cook is shaking his head slightly, as if in a dazed shock.

Malice sets one of her feet atop the raised surface of the dais. "So I'll be claiming my pastry now."

The Cook shakes his head in a more determined manner. "No, I shall not allow it."

All three individuals in the room who aren't the Cook gasp.

Malice feels a surge of anger and experiences a brief fantasy of punching the Cook in his face. She takes a moment to analyze her feelings—the exact texture and flavor of her hate—as the others watch her expectantly, waiting to see her reaction. She doesn't want to murder the Cook, like she might if she was heartless, nor is she sickly sweet, like when her ticktock heart used to make her way too nice. She is somewhere between heartless and goody good. So the black rose medicine seems to be working.

She says, "You can't disallow my partaking! I'm the Queen..."

The Cook lifts his nose up in the air. "Nevertheless," he says, then turns his head away.

Malice stomps her foot. "But it's my cake!"

The Cook huffs, with his nose still turned up in the air. "Well, of course it is, but it's simply not ready. I simply cannot allow you to eat the cake before it has been appropriately icinged. Why, it just wouldn't be proper!...not the behavior befitting a queen."

Malice's furiousness is rising within. She stomps her foot, shouts, "But I am the Queen, and if I command that I shall partake of the cake, so it shall be done."

The Cat mutters, "Blimey, the power's gone to your head," causing Malice to shoot a glare at him.

The Cook shakes his head. "I have nothing but respect for you, as My Queen, but the realm of food and pastry belongs to me, and so you must concede to my authority in this matter, when I say, nay, you shan't besmirch the honor and integrity of my carefully-baked good."

Malice scowls. "But I want it! You said it's mine, so I shall just take it!" She takes a step forward.

"No!" the Cook shouts. He grabs the platter and lifts the cake. "Another step and I plop it on the floor!" His hands are shaking severely and Malice fears for the pastry's safety. Too much shaking could send the cake toppling over, and there is no way she will eat a cake that has fallen on the floor.

The Cat says, "He looks like he means it."

While Hatter says, "Please don't hurt her!" (He's referring to the cake.)

Responding to Hatter, the Cook says, "I would rather see my beautiful pastry creation destroyed, than allow the travesty of its unadorned consumption!"

"Wow," the Cat says in a mocking way.

Hatter lets out a little distressed whimper.

Malice lifts her hands and presses her palms out against the air. "Whoa, whoa. Wait. Don't do anything rash! It's just a cake!"

The Cook rises up and squares his shoulders in indignation. His shaking hands suddenly stop shaking at all. "Just a cake? Just a cake?! When I put the icing upon this cake, it shall become a work of art befitting a queen, and you shall revel in its glory! That is why I shan't allow you to eat it, while it's...it's naked. I shall not have you defile it and besmirch its honor! I would rather destroy it than have its innocent state rent asunder. No! I'll plop it, I swear I will!"

"Crikey," Malice mutters under her breath. "Oh, sod it!" She flaps her hands up in the air in defeat. "Very well, we're leaving. Come on Hatter, Cat..."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Hatter and Malice work on a plan to distract the Cook.

It's Hatter who comes up with the idea of pretending an old man named Humphrey has arrived with a delivery of truffles. Humphrey is known for showing up unexpectedly with the delicacies—he has a specially trained pig who sniffs them out. Malice had once eaten some of the truffles, and didn't see what all the fuss was about, but the Cook adores the gourmet fungus, and always rushes to greet Humphrey whenever he brings a new batch.

Humphrey had, in the past, expressed his fear of entering the castle, so he would always meet the Cook outside.

Malice thinks the Cat would be a good deliverer of the lie, but he claims he must observe his non-interference policy.

Instead they have one of the guard cards deliver the false news.

Of course, the Cook will probably return fairly quickly once he figures out Humphrey isn't there, but it won't take long to swipe the cake and run off with it.

They hide in one of the hallways as the guard card goes in to deliver his lines. After the Cook passes by, the trio swoops into the Icing Room. Malice grabs the cake and they run off, giggling, to hide away in one of the guards' lounges, making sure to lock the door behind them.

They find all the necessary cake consumption supplies, and Malice is soon divvying up their slices.

Malice gives the Cat a slice as well, but in order to eat it, he must materialize the lower part of his body. That's something Malice has rarely seen him do, since he doesn't like to take the risk of being beheaded. So, being the skittish scaredy cat he is, he teleports away in order to snack, leaving Hatter and Malice alone in the room.

As Hatter and Malice sit at the little round table, cramming pieces of their second slices of cake into their gaping mouths, they hear the distant voice of the Cook echoing through the halls: "Malice! I'm so fuming mad at you right now! Well, enjoy your cake while you can, for that shall be the last one I make for you!"

Hatter's brow furrows. He covers his mouth with his hand before speaking through a mouthful of cake. "Plee shrounz mauhd."

Malice swallows, says, "Yes, he does sound mad, but I don't think he deserves much of our sympathy. The cake was for me in the first place, and if he misses it so much, he can simply bake another one! He's just being a prig."

Hatter considers her words, now nods. "Quite."

Malice briefly ponders whether to take a risk, before deciding to just go for it, so she says, "All that hubbub over a simple chocolate cake! Why, he acts as if it were a wedding cake or something!"

Hatter jolts a little before collecting himself and continuing to chew.

Malice continues, "Yes, just imagine, if this was our wedding cake. Would it have a miniature bride and groom, with a crown and top hat?" She smiles big, lost in the fantasy of a dream wedding. "Would you smush the cake in my face, according to tradition? Or could I maybe even smash it in yours? What flavor would you prefer, if..."

As Malice is speaking, Hatter swallows his mouthful of cake. With determination on his face, his posture straightens, as if in preparation for his next actions...

Malice watches his face in anticipation...and now here it comes, as Hatter scowls—not the reaction she'd been hoping for—

He says, "There you go at it again. I've told you over and over that you're too young for me."

Malice says, "But it's just a game of make-believe. Okay, so I'm too young. But what if I was 19 right now, like in the play?"

Through clenched teeth, Hatter says, "But you're not 19."

She shrugs and twitches her mouth. "So just pretend I am, like in the play."

He sighs. "I never should have gone along with that. That kiss, was a mistake."

"But I will be 19 in a few years. Do you think that then, maybe we—"

"Enough!" he shouts. "The fact of the matter is, I know you're too immature for me, because you nag like a child!"

"What? How dare you!"

"No!" he shouts. "It's you! You are in the wrong here! And you can enjoy your stolen cake alone. I shan't eat another bite!"

Malice's mouth drops open in shock. "I— I didn't mean to—"

"Well you did!" He jabs his fork into his piece of cake, causing the fork to stand upright. "You couldn't control yourself, because you're still an immature brat!" He stands up. "Goodnight!" He makes the word sound like an insult. Now, he turns and storms away.

Malice calls out to his back, "Fuddy-duddy!"

He doesn't look back or respond to her words. However, he does slam the door as he exits the room...

Leaving Malice alone with her undecorated cake.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Malice sulks for a few hours before going to bed. She has trouble sleeping, upset as she is from her argument with Hatty.

But eventually the morning comes, and she must face a new day with a hangover of sorts—a dry mouth and a slight headache. As she takes her morning bath, she notices that the black rose's intoxicating effects have diminished a lot—she no longer feels as darkly poetic or as naughtily rowdy—but the mental effects are still there in a more manageable way. She only hopes that the dark flower is still subduing her heart enough to keep it in check.

In the bath, as she presses her hand to her chest, she is unable to tell if anything is awry. She recalls what the Queen of Hearts said about the Tin Knight, and in her sober state, she regrets sending the guard cards out to seek him.

After her bath, while her long black hair still lies wet against her back, she sends her guard cards out to gather information about the Snark. She also instructs them to cease inquiring about the Tin Knight.

As she furthers her morning preparations for the day, the results come back from various guard cards:

The Cook is still angry at her, but he has prepared breakfast.

Hatter refuses to go with Malice to visit the Jabberwock this morning, even though she told the guard to tell Hatty that she is really really sorry and will behave.

Another guard returns to say that Humpty shall attend her trip, though he won't be at breakfast, because he's still feeling uncomfortable around her.

So at least not everyone has abandoned her.

Malice dresses in her typical outfit of a moderately poofy black dress. As usual, she leaves her crown in her chambers.

She realizes that with only one black rose, she may run out of her much needed medicine. So she picks a hidden away area of one of the gardens to plant four black rose seeds. Once they bloom, she will have a ready supply.

It is after she returns from the garden that she decides to nibble a bit of a black rose petal, and then a little more...

She spends the next two days "drunk on darkness", taking many doses of the black rose. She is still getting used to its effects and is not quite sure how much to take. She has a great deal of fun trying to figure it out, though, but realizes that if she continues at this rate, she may run out in the future.

Hatter and Humpty seem to be avoiding her, which, though regrettable, at least means she gets to keep more of the delectable flower for herself.

She still intends to visit the Jabberwock, but loses track of the time and is distracted with writing poetry.

On the second day of debauchery, a guard card comes to her in the hallway, shortly after she chewed a bit of the black rose. She wanted to test its effects when taken very early in the morning.

"Your Highness," says the guard, "there has been a discovery in the forest."

She giggles for no reason at all, and says, "What is it?" She realizes she is slurring her words.

"A statue, in one of the clearings. It's of you."

Malice giggles again, and now she realizes she's doing so because of the black rose's effects. "You're joking."

"No, My Queen. It seems to have appeared overnight. No one knows where it came from."

"A statue of me? In the forest? Who put it there?"

"At this time, we don't know."

"Why?"

"We don't know. But you should know that the statue is holding a sign..."

She asks Humpty to go with her to see. He agrees, reluctantly. He's still upset with her about the play, and has also been nagging her not to take so much of the black rose. She tries to ask Hatter along as well, but he is nowhere to be found.

The guard card leads them to the forest clearing, a short distance away from the castle.

The statue is comprised of white porcelain, standing on a wooden platform on the grass. It depicts Malice standing, dressed in her royal poofy gown. The statue is larger than life, several inches taller than Malice herself.

The expression on the porcelain-Malice's face is stern, regal, looking off into the distance. In its right hand, it holds a royal scepter. In its left hand it holds a thick stone tablet, or rather, a white porcelain version of one. Carved into the stone tablet are the words: Better to try and fail.

After reading the words, she says, "Yes, what an inspiring, grand statue. Is this your doing?"

Humpty says, "No. It's odd, a statue in the middle of the forest, just appearing like this."

"It didn't just appear. Someone put it here. To honor me, I suppose."

"It would seem so. Who did it, do you think?"

"Hatter, it must be. It is his way of apologizing!" She giggles.

"I don't think he would be apologizing to you."

Malice scowls. "Then perhaps I have a secret admirer. You should be jealous."

"Perhaps whoever did this shall claim credit soon, so you can stop speculating."

Malice giggles, spreads wide her arms and proclaims, "Oh my glorious statue!" She steps upon the platform, leaps up and kisses the statue upon the cheek. As she lands, she almost falls off, but Humpty steadies her with his hands upon her waist.

"Whoa, Malice, what has gotten into you?"

"The black rose. I've been testing its effects. One effect is impulsiveness!"

"And clumsiness."

"Ah yes, but I had the urge to kiss myself and so I tried! And I succeeded. You know the saying, don't you boy? Better to try and fail..."

"Than not to try at all," he mutters. He helps her down from the platform.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The next afternoon, Malice is much more sober. Outside Sleepy B's hut, with Humpty at her side, she tells the Jabberwock everything Kingston said—at least as much as she can remember. Both Kingston and the Queen of Hearts had spoken of some kind of forget spell. But she tells the Jabberwock about the Snark's plans to unite all the monster tribes in order to vanquish Wonderland and replace it with another realm, and how the Snark could possibly travel to Jabberwock Valley to take control of one of the leaders there.

The Jabberwock is not convinced.

At one point he says, "I know you really wanted a reason for me to go to Jabberwock Valley, but this is rather much."

"Are you accusing me of lying?"

"No, no," the Jabberwock replies. "I just feel that maybe you wanted too much to believe him. How do you know the werepig boy wasn't mistaken or lying? You say he's one of the group of monsters? So maybe he was having some fun with a human girl."

Malice gnaws at her lower lip. "Well he seemed believable...at the time."

The Jabberwock shakes his head (which he is holding in his hand). "And the Snark is supposed to be some conniving mastermind behind a nefarious plot?! Why, the Snark is nothing but a sniveling little twit. I'd think he's too much of a coward to show himself around these parts again."

Malice is starting to doubt herself. She looks at Humpty, whose brow is furrowed. To the Jabberwock, Malice says, "So you don't believe it's true?"

He answers, "Not without better proof, no. It just doesn't pass the believability test. And I'm glad too, because if this wild story of the werepig boy were true, it would really be scary."

So Malice lets the matter drop, not wanting to push things too far, as she'd recently done with so many of her friends.

The Jabberwock informs her that Reginald (also known as the Horseman Head, short for the Headless Horseman Head) requested to speak to her before she returns to the castle. The Jabberwock further informs her to not be surprised by any odd behavior on the Horseman Head's part. According to the Jabberwock, he's been acting oddly lately—he'd ordered all mirrors in the mansion removed. And he'd recently received a top hat from Hatter which the Jabberwock had never seen him wear even once. And Reginald had even been talking differently lately, according to the Jabberwock.

Humpty and Malice walk over to the bone mansion that had been recently relocated—it was simply picked up and reassembled by the Horseman Head's servants to be close to Sleepy B's hut.

Reginald had ordered his skeleton girl servants to move the mansion so he could be closer to his body, which he is letting the Jabberwock borrow, for a fee of course. And the reason Reginald could animate his headless body, his bodyless head, and the skeleton girls is that he is a necromancer...

It both creeps her out, and at the same time gives her a lurid thrill—she can sense a lot of her attraction is due to the black rose's dark romantic nature filling her, causing her to yearn for the dark side and dark thrills. Of course, since she'd gone since last afternoon without chewing any petals, the effects aren't as powerful as the past couple of days, but she can still feel its seductive pull.

Malice and Humpty stand in front of the door made of long bones, with a metal knocker in the shape of a jabberwock head—she holds the knocker up, about to bring it rapping down on the door, and she shudders in anticipation.

Humpty, watching her, says, "I cringe as well. I remember the last time we went into that place. I find those skeleton girls a bit unnerving, you know, with them being undead and all, and with him being, you know, decapitated. It gives me the chills." He shudders to illustrate.

"Oh, pish posh. I personally think it's brilliant how he manages to stay alive with his head separated from his body. I actually find him and his skeleton girls quite...intriguing. Alluring even."

Humpty arches a brow. "You've always found him as creepy as I do, before."

"I think it's the effects of the black rose. It causes me to be drawn more to the dark side of things."

"Perhaps that's not such a good thing."

"Oh balderdash. We'll go in, and it'll be fine."

"But all those animated skeletons..."

"Oh, don't be such a scaredy cat. You aren't gonna let me go alone are you? Of course not. And don't you want to see the decapitated head's new hat? I wonder if it shall make him more dapper." She chuckles. "It should be amusing at the least."

Humpty sighs. "The Jabberwock said that Reginald hasn't even been wearing the hat. But I admit I'm curious about it. Hatter mentioned nothing about it. Was he keeping it secret for some reason?"

"I don't know," Malice says. "He mentioned nothing of it to me, either. But enough of this dilly-dallying. I've been holding this knocker aloft quite long enough." She raps the knocker against the door three times. "I pray that you shall accompany me."

Humpty exhales a long, exasperated sigh. "Very well."

And now the bone door is being pulled open. Behind the door stand two skeleton girls, with long flowing raven-black hair, dressed in bikinis.

They'd be a little sexier with a little meat on their bones—or any meat on their bones. I wonder if the Horseman Head does anything romantic with the girls.

He doesn't have a body right now, but perhaps he might kiss the girls...or lick them. The thought creeps her out, but also intrigues her. She would like to watch such a thing, just for a little while...especially after eating a bit more of the black rose...

She is brought out of her reverie by the sight of the skeleton girls curtsying deeply.

"Welcome Queen Malice," says the girl in the light blue bikini.

The one in the hot pink bikini says, "Yes, and welcome Monsieur Humpty. Our Master has been awaiting your arrival."

"Yes," Malice says, "he wanted to speak to us. What about?"

"We don't know," says the light blue bikini girl. "We'll take you to him."

And with that, they lead Malice and Humpty down a bone-lined hallway. The sound of calming harp and violin music fills the air, making the mansion seem sophisticated and contemplative. The skeleton girls lead them to the open archway that leads into a room filled with bikini-wearing skeleton girls with long swaying black hair. Malice wonders if they're wearing wigs. Many of them play instruments like drums, maracas, and harps. Others lounge about on sofas and chairs. A few others stand at attention holding weapons like crossbows, axes, and swords.

And there, in the middle of the room, is Reginald, also known as the Headless Horseman's decapitated head. He rests atop a royal red silken pillow on a pedestal of bone—his version of a throne. He faces the wall that's on their right, so that they view the side of his face. They view half of his mustache, which is meticulously waxed. Malice remembers what the Jabberwock had said about a top hat, but now he wears none upon his smoothly pomaded hair.

He looks quite dapper, which is not surprising, since she'd always heard that he considers himself a suave gentleman.

The blue bikini skeleton girl announces, "Master! Queen Malice and Monsieur Humpty have arrived."

A grin creeps up the side of the Horseman Head. His eyes shift as far to his right as they can go, so he can look at them. His head doesn't move—perhaps if he twists his neck, he'll topple over, Malice thinks.

Reginald shouts, "Well, bugger me! They've finally arrived. About time, says I!"

Malice frowns and exchanges a glance with Humpty. He must be thinking the same thing she is—they'd always been told that Reginald was a very proper gentleman who always speaks in a very formal manner, and he'd acted that way the last they saw him.

But his words just then were quite common and crass. Perhaps he'll begin speaking properly from here on...

"Well, it's good to finally be here!" Malice says as she and Humpty walk over until they're facing the head on the pillow. "You wished to speak to us?"

"Righto," says Reginald. "Girls, lay off for a bit, so's we can chin wag for a wee while."

The skeleton girls dutifully stop playing the music, and go as still...as the dead.

Malice says, "We heard you recently received quite a posh hat. But Hatty never even let me know he was making one for you."

"Oh, bugger the hat. I have important things to discuss with you concerning the Queen."

Malice puts her hand on her hip. She knows he's referring to the Queen of Hearts. "I'm the Queen." As she says it, she sees an object beginning to appear to the left and slightly above the Horseman Head.

Reginald rolls his eyes at her comment, as the Cheshire Cat's grinning head continues appearing—it takes him a few seconds to solidify.

Meanwhile, Humpty supports her by saying, "Yeah, she's the Queen," and Malice shoots him a grin of gratitude, which causes Humpty to look down shyly, while Reginald says, "You know who I mean. You have her captive, correct?"

Malice suppresses a snarl at the rudeness. The Cat, who has completed forming his floating head, swoops toward her while saying, "Heya Maly," before turning around to face the decapitated head. "Hiya Horsey Heady! What'd I miss?"

"Cat head," the Horseman Head says while giving a slight nod—he obviously can't give very much more forceful nods, due to his precarious decapitated state. "You didn't miss anything. In fact, you're being rather an interrupter, yeah?"

The Cat hisses at him and bares his fangs.

Reginald sniffs. "Oh, you're as much of a nuisance as those rats you hunt down. You're just lucky you can reappear and disappear that floating head of yours, so no one can clasp a hold of it, unlike the Horseman Head. A bit of a cheater, you are, says I."

The Cat hisses again.

Malice says, "Referring to yourself in the third person, are you? My, how arrogant."

"What's that?" Reginald says. "Oh, right. Yes, I like to use the royal we, Queen. For I am the king here, you see." He winks, circles his eyes around to indicate the skeleton girls...many of whom had acquired weapons within the past few moments.

Malice resists the urge to snarl. Instead she raises her eyebrows.

The Cat says, "In the kingdom of meatless girls, the meat-head is king." He chuckles at his own joke, Humpty lets out a surprised burst of laughter, and Malice titters and covers her mouth.

"Brilliant one," Humpty says.

"Thank ya," says the Cat.

The Horseman Head scowls. "Shut up, fur head. There's more than one way to skin a cat."

The Cat says, "...and to shave a mustache."

Malice says to the Cat, "Enough. Don't antagonize him further. You have a non-interference policy, remember?" She forces a smile on her face and meets Reginald's eyes. "Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot. Oh! No offense intended! I know you don't have feet. I mean you do, but they're with the Jabberwock."

Reginald is scowling while the Cat cackles and Humpty tries to keep from laughing, but fails.

Malice's face screws up. "Oh dash it all! I apologize most profusely and humbly, alright? Now let's quite pussy footing about and get to it. What did you wish to speak to me of?"

The Horseman Head says, "I have been speaking with the Snark. He told me to relay to you—"

Malice gasps. "The Snark?!"

"Righto. You remember him, right? A brilliant, charming monster who took over your Mad Hatter..."

Malice snarls. "Yes, a filthy spider parasite creature."

Reginald grimaces. "Not a good analogy."

"What's that?"

"Spiders have legs, the Snark has tentacles." He sniffs.

Malice says, "Like an octopus? Well, in either case, whether he possesses tentacles or legs, I remember Alice punching him solidly in his gaping squishy maw!"

The Cat laughs. "And that was a jolly good show, right there!"

Reginald forces a puff of air through his mouth, with a disgusted expression. "Well, it was a sucker punch, but I'm back..." He grimaces and thinks for a bit. "And if I can come back, then so can the Snark, because I must admit, he's a right, proper, bloody, genius he is, and he intends to destroy Wonderland and unite the monster tribes, and rename this land, Woeland, with him as the magnificent ruler!"

"So it's truly true?!" Malice says. "He's truly milling about, planning to overthrow and conquer and whatnot?"

"Indeed he is," Reginald says. "And the chap is so bloody conniving, so intelligent and smart and um, intelligent, that there is no doubt he shall be successful."

"Rubbish," the Cat mutters under his breath.

Malice raises a rage-shaking fist. "No he shan't, because we won't let it happen, right lads?"

"We most definitely shan't," Humpty says, and the Cat says, "He's no match for you, Queeny."

"Indeed he's not," Malice says, before scowling at the Horseman Head. "But why are you so set on this Queendom failing? Whose side are you on?"

"I merely call it how I see's it. You must admit, he is much more intelligentster, while you on the other hand are more inexperienceder as a queen."

Malice huffs in indignation. "I'm also inexperienced in slapping the mustaches off of daft gits' faces. Perhaps I should practice!"

"Do it!" the Cat goads while chuckling.

Reginald shoots him a look, before returning his attention to Malice. "Whoa nelly, lass. We must try to stay on the right foot, yeah?" He winks.

"I know where I'd like to put my foot," Malice mutters.

Reginald gives a little laugh. "You'd have to go to the Jabberwock head. But back to the matter at hand..."

Malice gives him a glowering look, indicating his lack of hands and body. "Whose hand?"

"Merely a figure of speech," he says. "Now, the Snark is a bit of a fearsome fellow, so I didn't talk to him for long. However, I wanted to make sure you knew what we discussed because, as Queen, you should be made aware."

"Thank you. It's nice to get a bit of respect."

"Yes. I feel you will make a...practical ruler. I realize that you're not the one responsible for the current woeful state of the monster tribes. No, it was the queen before you who was responsible."

"What are you getting at?" Malice says. "You act as if it's a bad thing to keep the monsters away."

"Well, to be fair, who gets to decide who is a monster or not? There are many who might say that Wonderland was worse than the monster kingdoms, because Wonderland was ruled by the cruel, vicious Queen of Hearts. Many would say she was the real monster."

Humpty says, "Yes, she is, I mean was."

The Cat says, "Yeah, she kept trying to behead me, the beast."

Reginald chuckles. "You see? It's all a matter of perspective. Just because someone is human doesn't mean they can't be a monster, and vice versa...take your friend the Jabberwock, for example. He's technically a monster, correct? And yet I hear you get along swimmingly."

Malice says, "Yes, that's a good point. I admit I haven't sorted everything out in my mind, but the fact of the matter is that it all happened before I was brought into this world. All I can do, is try to deal with the present and the future. No one seems to even remember what happened in the distant past, anyway."

The Horseman Head smiles. "I must say, I think your attitude is spot on. And you're right that none of it was your fault. It's the Queen of Hearts', which is why the Snark wants her eliminated for her crimes...so he told me."

"No one would miss her," the Cat says.

Malice's eyes narrow. "But I don't support the death penalty. And I must say, it sounds as if you've become awfully familiar with the Snark."

Reginald says, "We've been working very closely together."

"Oh no," Humpty says quietly.

Malice's expression hardens. "You do realize that I consider the Snark my personal enemy, and enemy of the Queendom."

Humpty says, "Yeah, he latched onto the poor Hatter!"

The smile disappears from Reginald's face, replaced by a snarl. "Well, things change, and I believe the Snark is destined to be the future ruler of Woeland, and Wonderland shall be no more!"

"Not blooming likely!" the Cat shouts.

Malice is merely staring at Reginald, with her mouth hung open in shock. She looks to Humpty to see he has a stunned expression as well.

"Oh don't look so stricken!" Reginald says with a chuckle. "He's just stronger, smarter and would make a better leader than you."

"Sir how dare you!" shouts the Cat and Malice says, "Watch your mouth."

"Yeah," Humpty says in support.

"I'm starting to think you must fancy the Snark," Malice says.

Reginald says, "You haven't even been Queen all that long, Malice. If you quit now, you would hardly miss it, and you'd avoid the bother of being a ruler with all its responsibilities. And the Snark shall bear no grudge against you, so long as you abdicate the throne—of that I am certain—it is as if we are of the same mind, he and I..."

"He is a colossal prat," Malice says. "I do hope you're not working with him in the future, or else there shall be consequences."

Humpty, in a voice more courageous-sounding than usual, shouts, "Yeah, she is not to be trifled with!"

"Yeah!" the Cat now shouts. "The Queen of Hearts isn't the only one who can shout 'off with his head'!"

The Horseman Head gives him a look and raises his brow. "Really, now..."

The Cat fumbles, "Err, you know what I mean."

Reginald quirks his mouth. "Actually, no, I can't say that I do."

Malice says, "Perhaps dungeon time would be a more appropriate punishment for any treasonous acts."

"Oh, come now...treason?" Reginald says. "That is quite simply not the case. I admit, I've interacted with the fellow, and I find him to be an upstanding, considerate chap. I feel he has simply been misunderstood."

"Misunderstood?!" Malice says. "Bollocks!"

Humpty says,"Yeah! He took over Hatter, possessed his mind and body!"

The Cat adds, "Yeah! He's a right, proper, prat!"

Reginald says, "Truly, none of this hostility is necessary, I promise you. The monsters were wronged by the Queen of Hearts, not by you. Which is why she must be made to pay!" His face snarls up in fury.

Malice says, "She's already in the dungeon."

The Cat adds, "And I do what I can to irritate her!"

The Horseman Head groans in irritation at the Cat. "Yes, that's all well and good, but I— I mean, the Snark, who is quite profoundly not me, feels the Queen of Hearts should be made to pay the price for her crimes against monstrosity."

Malice gasps and quietly murmurs, "No," Humpty quietly mutters, "Crikey," and the Cat says, "How soon and how?"

The Horseman Head continues, "Of course, once Woeland is enstated, the Snark shall still allow you to play a large role, as an advisor, perhaps. You'll be doing the right thing by restoring the wronged monsters, plus you'll get the benefit of having an esteemed, prestigious title without all the bothersome troubles of having to actually rule and make all those difficult decisions. The Snark is willing to make all of these concessions to you when the transition comes. He merely asks you to make one gesture of good faith at the present time."

Malice snarls. "What's this gesture you mentioned?"

Reginald scowls. "The Queen of Hearts. Her crimes against the monsters and even the humans are unforgivable, and justice must be served. You have her in your dungeon. The Snark wishes to see her executed."

The Cat exclaims, "The first smart thing you've said so far!"

Humpty looks at her and says, "You won't, will you?"

Malice shakes her head. "I shan't! I don't deliver the death penalty."

Humpty looks at Reginald. "She won't."

Reginald says, "Why so blooming dainty, girl? You've done quite a bit of vicious murder in the past, right?"

The Cat says, "She took one of me nine lives, she bloody well did."

Malice says, "That was when I was heartless. But now I have my ticktock heart and the black rose as my medicine to keep myself under control. So no, I absolutely will not murder the Queen of Hearts, and you can tell that to the Snark, just before you cut off all future contact with him and personally vow your allegiance to me and Wonderland. And if you do all that, I might be lenient in your punishment."

Reginald's eyebrows rise on his forehead. "Hmmph! So you're decided then?"

"Quite. I've grown weary of this folly. Are you prepared to cut off all contact with the Snark?"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, love. For, you see, he and I have grown quite close." He calls out, "Now!"

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

All the skeleton girls in the room lift and shift their weapons. All the girls with crossbows are now aiming them at either Malice, Humpty, or the Cat.

"I'll be back later," the Cat says before teleporting away.

"Scaredy Cat!" Malice shouts at him. To the Horseman Head, she says, "What is the meaning of this?"

He replies, "I tried reasoning with you, but you decided to be uncooperative. So consider this a coup d'etat. Make a move and my girls shall turn you into a pin cushion."

"You've lost your mind!" Humpty says.

The Horseman Head replies, "That's one thing I haven't lost, dumbass."

"You're out of your head," Malice says with a scowl. "What I think Humpty meant to say, is you couldn't find your bum with two hands."

Humpty grins at her. "Good one."

The Horseman Head says to Malice, "You've got quite a sassy mouth on you, lass, but it's still not my intention to do you any harm, because you're not the guilty one—the Queen of Hearts is. But I quite dislike your anti-death penalty policy. That's why I really must insist that you rethink it. Now, you shall stay here as my hostage. Your boyfriend here shall be allowed to go to your castle to fetch a certain object I desire. If he returns with it, I shall make an exchange of you for it, and you'll be allowed to go unharmed, and sorry for the inconvenience, yeah?"

Malice puts her hands on her hips—there is a rustling of weapons and some of the skeletons' crossbows shift over to aiming at her. The dangerousness of the situation suddenly strikes home. She tries to hide her nervousness behind a brave voice as she says, "So what's the blasted object you want?"

He replies, "The bloody Queen of Hearts' head. The bloodiness is optional." He chuckles at his own joke.

Humpty lets forth a little distressed whimper. "I truly dislike handling those."

Reginald says, "Well, I suggest you quit being such a priss and get over your squeamishness. You want your girlfriend to be set free, yeah?"

He nods. "Certainly. But she's not my girlfriend."

Malice sighs dramatically and rolls her eyes.

Reginald says, "Oh, are you two lovebirds having a tiff? 'Tis no matter, ya poor sod, true love shall endure!... Provided the lovely Malice is released of course. Just bring the head, and she'll be set free. I'm sure she'll be supremely grateful to be rescued and shall run passionately into your arms to shower you with kisses."

"Errr..." Humpty says. Looking uncertain, he looks to Malice's face, and she says, "No, that's not what shall happen. He shan't bring me a decapitated head as some sort of demented Valentine! I told you I shall not execute the Queen of Hearts. She shall serve her life in the dungeon and that simply is all there is to the matter. Now call your skeletal harem girls off and set me free this instant, or suffer the consequences."

"Consequences?!" Reginald chuckles. "My dear girl, I don't think you fully grasp who is in charge here. All I'm asking is for justice to be served, and for the head of the vicious tyrant queen to be delivered to me. If you merely allow justice to be satisfied, and have your boytoy bring the Queen of Hearts' head, you shall be released with all cordiality, this I vow."

Malice's eyes narrow as her eyes meet his. She is furious at the audacity of this beheaded man, yet she fears she may be in a situation that could lead to her getting killed...unless she submits to his terms and allows the despicable and ruthless Queen of Hearts to be killed—the queen who herself ordered the death of so many when she was in control. Was it really so terrible that she too should suffer the command of "off with her head"?

Malice is frozen in indecision between two choices—to defy or comply. But if she refuses, how will she be able to escape unharmed?

Perhaps I should just—

Her inner thoughts are interrupted as she sees an object flying over her head in her peripheral vision. She looks up to see a dark object tumbling through the air. Many of the skeleton girls are looking up at it as well, and in the split seconds that the tumbling object arcs through the air, Malice thinks it almost looks like the head of a fanged monster... She thinks it might even be a jabberwock head, but she can't be sure, since it's traveling so quickly that she can't be certain, and she sees that Reginald has noticed the object as well, in his peripheral vision—he blurts out, "What?!" But his object-tracking abilities are severely limited, due to his inability to really move his head about all that much due to him being decapitated and all. And so, he cannot see what she sees, as the object plonks into the bone-lined wall to her right, then the object thuds to the floor and rolls a few times.

It comes to rest—well it sort of comes to rest, since it still wobbles some—and Malice realizes she is squinting at the decapitated Jabberwock head—meeting his eyes.

And now his voice calls out from the head, "I beg to differ!"

All the skeleton, girls and Malice and Humpty as well, have turned to look at the utterly outrageous sight of the thrown Jabberwock head—it's so unexpected and abnormal that everyone in the room seems to be either in shock, or taken aback. Only one or two of the crossbow girls in Malice's sight gets it in their skull to aim their crossbows at the Jabberwock head.

"What's going on?!" the Horseman Head shouts.

Ah, Malice thinks, everyone here is gobsmacked except for Reginald, who can't turn his head to see what we are all gaping at.

A female voice to Malice's left calls out, "Don't move, Snark! Me and my girl and Jabby have our crossbows aimed right at you! The jig is up!"

The Horseman Head's eyes slide as far as they can go in his unmoving head to see who is speaking.

Of course, Malice has no problem swiveling her head to see that pink bikinied skeleton girl who'd greeted them. She's standing against the wall aiming her crossbow at a point slightly above the Horseman Head, which Malice finds odd.

She also finds odd, the sight of the Horseman Body to her left, standing at the room entrance. And about five feet to his side stands the other skeleton girl who'd greeted them, in the blue bikini. They are both aiming a crossbow at a point slightly above the Horseman Head.

They'd snuck in while everyone was looking at the tossed head. It must've been a distraction! And Malice inwardly winces, as she thinks, Such a painful distraction it must've been, as well, the poor lad.

The Horseman Head calls out, "Femurlina! Thigh-boneona! Quit aiming at me and aim at the Jabberwock head! Whatever he told you was a lie! Because he's Malice's pathetic little servant!"

Wow, apparently those skeleton girls who greeted us have names—though, they're odd bone-based names.

From the floor, the Jabberwock shouts, "They're done listening to you, you cad! The girls now know the truth about you. The truth is..." On the opposite end of the room, the Horseman Body points dramatically at the Horseman Head, while the Jabberwock proclaims, "This head is an impostor!"

"Rubbish!" the Horseman Head shouts.

"Tell 'em, girls," the Jabberwock says.

Femurlina says, "It's true. Our master has been taken over by the Snark!"

Malice and Humpty gasp—and exchange glances—Malice expects the skeleton girls to gasp as well, but then she realizes they don't breathe. They do seem to waver a bit with uncertainty and exchange glances with each other.

The Horseman Head shouts, "Lies, all lies! Girls, keep your aim on the Jabberwock's head! He's no real monster, he's a traitor, a Malice-lover!"

Malice quips, "To know me is to love me."

Humpty says, "Though you can be obnoxious at times."

Malice feels like addressing the rift between them, but this is definitely not the time.

One of the numerous skeleton girls in the room says, "But the Snark has to be glommed onto his slaves' heads, and he's not glommed." She gestures with her battle ax to the space above the Horseman Head.

"That's right," the Horseman Head says, "there is obviously not a creature on me, which means the Jabberwock is completely out of his head! But he's convinced Femurlina and Thigh-boneona of his lies. I think he must be using some sort of magic to sway them! Don't let him take over your mind! Shoot the Jabberwock head immediately!"

"No! No!" Femurlina shouts. "Don't do that! The Jabberwock is a hero! He showed us that the Snark is, indeed, on top of our Master's head, and he gave us the proof. There is a weakness in the magic, a way for us to see where he's hiding."

"Pure poppycock! You see how he has convinced them of utter nonsense! Stop him before he takes over you as well. Shoot him now! I command it!"

Something about the Horseman Head's voice no longer seems as forceful and arrogant—he sounds somewhat nervous and unsure of himself.

The Jabberwock says, "The fact of the matter is that the Snark is hiding within an invisible hat atop Reginald's head!"

"Preposterous!" the Horseman Head shouts, but his voice quivers with fear—it's obvious now, it seems he can no longer hide it.

The Jabberwock continues, "But the illusion of invisibility has one weakness. Mirrors!"

The Horseman Head shouts, "Utter codswallop! Don't listen to another word!"

Now Femurlina, the blue-bikinied skeleton girl, chimes in, "The Jabberwock has a mirror in his pocket."

"Break it right now!" the Horseman Head shouts.

Femurlina, increasing the volume of her voice, says, "I saw the reflection of the hat in the mirror. So did Thigh-boneona." Thigh-boneona nods as much as she can while still aiming her crossbow, as Femurlina continues, "That is why the Snark, pretending to be our Master, ordered all the mirrors on the walls taken off and destroyed. Didn't you wonder why he—"

The Horseman Head shouts, "I told you why!"

One of the anonymous skeleton girls says, "Yeah, he said he couldn't stand to be reminded of how decapitated he is, but I did wonder why he would become so squeamish all of a sudden, after all this time."

The Jabberwock starts, "That's because—"

The Horseman Head shouts, "Nonsense! That Jabberwock is a lying liar! And he's obviously tricked Femurlina and Thigh-boneona into believing him."

"Just—" the Jabberwock shouts.

He's cut off by the Horseman Head, who shouts, "Shoot him now! Everyone! Shoot! Now. Do it!"

But no one shoots. Instead, all the skeleton girls are exchanging glances, uncertain what to do.

The Jabberwock says, "I'll just show them in the mirror. You'll all see Reginald's actually wearing an invisible hat. I have no doubt the Snark is beneath it. It dawned on me a few minutes after Malice talked to me. She mentioned the Snark, then I started thinking about the fact that Reginald recently attained a hat I've never seen him wear. Then I began wondering why you were suddenly so insistent that I not bring a mirror with me to visit you, so I brought one today, then I saw the hat."

"I should like to see," Malice says. "I'm the Queen, so I should go first." She holds her hand out toward the Horseman Body.

"No!" the Horseman Head shouts. "Femurlina, take that mirror and break it this instant, I say!"

"No," Femurlina says, "You're an impostor. Everyone will see in the mirror..."

The Jabberwock says, "The jig is up, Snark! Just admit who you are! No use fighting it anymore."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

As the Horseman Body fumbles in his trouser pocket for the mirror, the Horseman Head lets out a grunt of frustration. "Very well, then!" he shouts. "Yes, I am the Snark! And I'm hiding inside this invisible magicked hat that makes it appear as if no hat is being worn!" Many of the crossbow-wielding skeletons shift their aim to just above the Horseman Head. The Horseman Body returns his hand to the crossbow, without bringing the mirror out, as the Horseman Head says, "But you're a monster too, a jabberwock. You should be on my side! I want to create the nation of Woeland, and make the monster tribes strong! Instead, you submit to a human queen, like some sort of pathetic weakling!"

Malice shouts, "He's hardly that!"

The Jabberwock says, "I am proud to serve Queen Malice, and I have no problem with her being human."

"Gee, thanks," Malice says. She puts her hand on her hip.

The Horseman Head chuckles. "No problem with her being human?! Don't you mean you revel in her being human? The jabberwocks of the valley all speak of you, the jabberwock who's still left behind in Wonderland. They whisper amongst themselves about you and your quite peculiar...affection for little human girls. That's quite different from normal jabberwocks, who much prefer to tear little girls limb from limb. They're enemies, you know..."

"I'm aware," the Jabberwock mutters through clenched fangs, across the room.

The Snark/Horseman Head says, "So why did you end up so...peculiar? So opposite of what a true jabberwock is?"

He answers, "That is none of your concern."

Malice is overcome with the urge to defend her dear Jabby, so she shouts, "He's just a nice, proper gentleman! Errr, gentlejabberwock! No, not gentle, just nice! I mean to me, he's nice, but to others he's fierce...if they deserve it, he's fierce." She mumbles the last part of her sentence, wondering if she even should have spoken in the first place.

The Horseman Head rolls his eyes. "Nonetheless... Jabberwock, you still have the chance to turn things around and make amends for your dishonorable behavior of siding with the...humans." He says the "h" word like it's a dirty word. "Instead, you should side with me, as a fellow monster, and together, with me and all your fellow monster brothers, we shall destroy Wonderland!"

The neck stump on the Horseman Body twists side to side in a gesture of shaking its head, even though the Jabberwock Head is across the room. "No," the Jabberwock says. "You are hardly in the position to conquer anything. I have my own suggestion to make to you. Surrender. Now."

"Yeah," Humpty says. "And perhaps the Queen shall have mercy upon your soul."

"No," the Horseman Head says, and Malice notices the Horseman Body is once again twisting its neck side to side as if shaking its head.

How curious.

The Horseman Head says, "You disappoint me, Jabberwock. You're not a real monster. As far as I'm concerned, you might as well be a human. You've already been using a human's body, but that's about to change now, all because of your refusal to do the honorable thing and join my side..."

The Jabberwock says, "What do you mean? What— What are you doing?!" His eyes are wide in alarm as he stares at the headless body.

Now Malice turns her head to her left and watches the body twitch and take a jerky step forward.

The Jabberwock shouts, "No! Leave it alone! It's my body!"

"That's a laugh!" the Horseman Head says. "It's the Horseman's body, but perhaps you've grown so familiar with it, you must've plum forgotten. How adorable! You think you're people!"

It dawns on Malice what's occurring here. Reginald, The Headless Horseman, used to carry his decapitated head around in the hands of his body. Due to his necromantic magic, he was able to control his body's movements as long as his head was in close proximity to it. But he'd made a deal with the Jabberwock to basically rent out the headless body.

But now, they are both within proximity of it...

The Horseman Body takes two jerky, running steps in the direction of the Jabberwock Head, before freezing in place, with one foot lifted up. And now the body begins to shake, as if it's struggling to break free of suspended animation.

"They're fighting for control over the body!" Humpty shouts, which echoes what Malice is thinking.

And Malice feels uncertain what to do about it. Should she tell the skeleton girls to shoot the Horseman Body? But if she does that, poor Jabby will be left without a healthy body. She bites her lip as the Horseman Body takes several more lurchy steps toward the Jabberwock Head.

For all I know, the Jabberwock is in control of the body and wants to pick his head up and hold it, like he usually does. But no, the Horseman Body has a threatening sort of body language, and Jabby's face looks afraid.

And the Horseman Body takes several more steps toward the Jabberwock Head, as the Horseman Head laughs mockingly, and the fear grows on the Jabberwock's face.

So should I order the skeleton girls to tackle the Horseman Body? Would they even be successful? Why, they're all skin and bones... Well...they're all bones. They're boney. And once again, the skeleton girls might end up harming the body the Jabberwock is using!

"No!" the Jabberwock shouts as the headless body crouches down to pick the Jabberwock Head up. And Malice realizes that now it's too late.

"Put me down this instant!" the Jabberwock yells as the Horseman Body stands up, while holding the Jabberwock Head in one hand.

The Horseman Head/Snark shouts, "Ha! Got you now, you little bugger!"

And the Horseman Body presses his crossbow bolt against the side of the Jabberwock Head.

The Horseman Head calls out, "Don't any of you try nothin', or this fake monster gets it!"

"Don't bargain with him!" the Jabberwock says.

Everyone in the room seems to be casting glances at Malice—seeking guidance. Half the skeleton girls with crossbows are aiming at the point above the Horseman Head, the other half aiming at the Horseman Body and two are even aiming at the Jabberwock Head. Since she's the Queen and all, they expect her to take charge and try to fix things—it is one of the more annoying aspects of being a monarch.

She stomps her foot upon the ground. "Oh, this is a blooming mess, isn't it? But no, Jabby I shan't sacrifice you just to get at this minuscule little squid."

"Snark," the Horseman Head corrects, just as Malice had predicted, and causing her to chuckle a little to herself, despite the gravity of the situation. She immediately recognizes her grim amusement as an effect of the black rose—yes, it's keeping her mood in between utterly vicious and sickeningly sweet, but it's also like a kind of intoxication. "Let me out of here and no one gets hurt," the Snark says, speaking through the Horseman Head.

The Jabberwock shouts, "Not asking you to sacrifice me! Just shoot the Snark! Then I'll regain control of the body!"

Malice says, "I shan't risk it!"

The Snark says, "You could end up shooting the Horseman Head, here. And what a tragedy that'd be!"

The Jabberwock says, "Well, he was a bit of a nuisance, anyway."

Malice shouts, "No, Jabby! I don't want anyone getting hurt here, not even the Snark!" And now she looks to the Horseman Head. "You should turn yourself in peacefully. For your own safety..."

The Horseman Head chuckles. "That's a laugh! No, you're going to do as I say. I have the advantage here—why, I've literally got ahold of your human-loving friend here by the hair!"

Malice rolls her eyes. "Actually, you don't, literally." She's referring to the fact that the Jabberwock doesn't have hair.

The Horseman Head/Snark sniffs. "Irregardless. The fact of the matter, is that now I'm going to give the orders, and if you do what I say, and don't do anything stupid, like try to shoot me..." He glares at one of the skeleton girls who's still aiming at the invisible hat... "I shall make my escape, and you shall have your traitor-to-the-monsters guard back. Now, Miss Malice, since you're supposedly the queen of the so-called Queendom of Wonderland, I bestow the honors to you...to carry Reginald's head with me atop it, safely outside."

"And then what?"

"And then I shall take my leave, and we shall meet again another day, of course."

The Jabberwock shouts, "Don't go along with anything this cad says!"

"Oh, shush," Malice says, "I'm trying to save your head."

"Ah!" the Snark says. "Yes, let the cooler heads prevail!"

Malice says, "Why shouldn't I think this is some sort of trick, and you'll shoot the Jabberwock before you scurry away?"

"I don't scurry."

"Okay, scamper..."

"I shall egress. But nevertheless and irregardless, I shall give my word. I won't shoot the Jabberwock if you hold up your end of the bargain. That would only put my own life in danger, and it's not worth it, to risk my own life merely to take the life of an inferior monster-wannabe such as this." The Horseman Body shakes the Jabberwock Head, causing him to exclaim, "Oi! Lay off!"

"Oh, crikey!" Malice shouts. "Very well, then! Promise me you'll egress peacefully and shall set Jabby free, and I shall escort you out."

The Snark says, "I give my word, and I ask that you do the same."

"Don't!" the Jabberwock blurts, but Malice shoots him a look to silence him.

Malice says, "As the rightful ruler of the glorious, legitimate Queendom of Wonderland, I give you my word, I shall safely escort you out..."

"And not pursue me..." the Snark adds.

Malice bows her head and says, "And not pursue you. And I pray that you shall reconsider your silly notion of destroying Wonderland."

He smirks. "It shan't seem so funny to you once you are bowing beneath my rule. Since you are being merciful today, perhaps I shall spare your life."

Humpty says, "You shall never defeat Queen Malice!"

She grins at him and says, "Thank you, love. Now, let's get this unpleasant business over with so I don't have to converse with unpleasant company any longer."

"I'm right here," the Horseman Head/Snark says.

She nods. "Quite. And now it's time for you to bugger off."

"Yes, till we meet again."

Humpty says, "And then she'll conquer you."

"Oh, she most definitely won't," the Horseman Head/Snark says.

"She shall!" Humpty says.

Malice interrupts them by saying, "Femurlina! Follow us out. Keep your aim on him in case he tries anything, but don't shoot unless you have to."

"Aye," Femurlina replies.

The Horseman Head sounds offended as he says, "That won't be necessary. I assure you, I'm an honorable adversary. I keep my word, and hope you do as well."

"Of course I do. I'm sure Femurlina won't need to shoot. She'll simply tag along to witness how honorably we both behave."

The Horseman Head/Snark rolls his eyes. "Get me the blast out of here."

"Very well," Malice says as she approaches the Horseman Head, and she hears Humpty say, "Careful, love," and she says, "I simply must feel." On an impulse, Malice reaches out and presses her hand to the top of the invisible hat—it feels just like a regular hat.

"Hey!" the Horseman Head says. "Are you done?"

Malice removes her hand. "Did the Hatter really make you that?

"Of course not."

"Then where'd you get it?"

"None of your business! Now let me bugger off!"

Malice lifts the Horseman Head, her face screwing up from the sheer ickiness of the experience. She holds the head as far away from her body as she can as she walks out toward the outside. Femurlina walks next to her, keeping her crossbow pointed at the Snark beneath the invisible hat. The Horseman Body follows, keeping his crossbow aimed at the Jabberwock Head, and Humpty tags along behind.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

In the lawn outside the bone mansion, she sets the Horseman Head on the ground.

"Now what?" Malice looks to blue-bikini-wearing Femurlina, now to Humpty, who shrugs.

The Horseman Head/Snark says, "Now I shall leave you sorry lot of losers. But know this—this is not the end between us, so-called Queen Malice! And you shall rue the day you ever met me!"

Malice rolls her eyes, now looks down at the decapitated head, showing him her scolding face. "Yada yada yada. Are you still here?"

The features of the Horseman Head go blank, as a piercing, loud screeching sound issues forth from the area above the head.

It causes Malice to jolt and let out a frightened yelp.

The Snark can't be seen, but he's heard. He speaks in his true voice, slightly muffled. His voice is high-pitched, and scratchy, and most decidedly inhuman. "We shall meet again!" he says.

Malice watches in shock as a top hat suddenly appears and rises up. What look like maybe half a dozen wriggly black worms appear on top of the Horseman Head.

But now Malice realizes what she is seeing—the "worms" are actually the bottom parts of the Snark's tentacles sticking out the bottom of the hat.

"Rue the day!" the Snark screeches. "That's what you shall do! Look upon the day that you shall rue meeting me, with dread!"

Malice smirks. "Was that a sentence?"

"You get the point!" He screeches. "Remember! Rue it!"

"The day?" Malice says.

"You mock, but that's exactly what you shall rue. And now, I can't stand to remain a single moment more around you worthless sods, and so!..." The top hat leaps to the grass below. "I bid you good day!"

And now the Snark, covered by the hat, begins scurrying away.

Malice shouts at the Snark, "Well hats off to ya!" She shakes her fist. "And don't show your tentacles around here again, if you know what's good for you!"

The Snark doesn't reply as he moves toward the cover of the forest.

From the ground in front of her blasts out a loud yell. "Ahhhh!"

Next to her, Humpty lets out a shout of surprise.

"Crikey!" Malice yells. "All this shouting! I've almost jumped out of my skin!" She scowls down at the Horseman Head, but when she sees his expression, she feels sorry for him.

Reginald looks alarmed and confused, with his eyes darting around. The hair atop his head is disheveled. "I say, what's going on?"

The Jabberwock says, "A prat took you over." Malice is pleased to see Jabby's regained control of the Horseman Body.

"What prat?" Reginald says. "Where am I? Outside?"

Femurlina says, "Yes, Master, you're just outside the mansion. You were taken over by the Snark—he latched onto your head and pretended he was you."

Humpty whimpers, says, "And he's going to be coming for us all."

Malice says, "Don't worry, love. We'll handle him just fine."

Reginald says, "He was hiding inside that blasted hat! Confound it! I should've known!"

Malice says, "Yes, he pulled that hat trick before, on Hatter."

Reginald says, "That's where the hat supposedly came from!"

"Well that was a lie." Malice says. Now she's distracted as out of the corner of her eye, she sees Femurlina moving her arm while standing next to Humpty.

When she turns her head, she sees that Femurlina is patting Humpty on the shoulder and standing way too close to him. In fact, if the girl had breasts, they'd definitely be pressed up against her Humpty!

Malice watches in a daze as Femurlina leans in to whisper something in his ear—

She barely notices Reginald saying, "She told me it was a gift from the Mad Hatter. So it wasn't?"

Is that skinny hussy trying to come onto my Humpty?!

"Oi!" Malice shouts to Femurlina. "What's the secret?"

Femurlina and Humpty jolt and pull away from each other, both looking guilty, though it's hard to read the boney hussy's fleshless face. Humpty, on the other face, is starting to blush.

"Secret?" the Horseman Head says.

"Hold on a sec," Malice says to him. Then to Humpty, "Is she making you uncomfortable, love?"

"No," Humpty sputters. "She, uh, was being comfortable. I mean, comforting." He rubs the back of his neck with his hand.

"Yeah," Femurlina says, "He just seemed a little upset about all this. Just wanted to comfort him."

Malice feels the jealousy surge through her, and she clenches her fist. If she was as heartless as she had been sometimes in the past, she might try to murder that bag of bones. But no, her heart is working, but the black rose is keeping her from being too sappy-sweet—so her emotions are stuck in the middle of the extremes.

Malice snarls. "I think you should show some self respect and get your bony bikinied body off of him, since you're obviously creeping him out, undead girl."

Reginald says, "My girls are highly skilled in pleasing people."

Malice chooses not to reply—maybe if she ignores him, he'll quit yapping.

Humpty raises his hands, pats his palms against the air. "Whoa, Femurlina was just helping. I got a little...overwhelmed with the Snark putting the Jabberwock and you in danger. I don't ever want to lose either of you."

"That's sweet," Malice says.

The Jabberwock adds, "It's good to know I'd be missed."

Humpty says, "I wish I was as brave as you two in the face of danger, but alas, I am not. I was woefully upset, and Femurlina merely sought to calm me."

"With her body?" Malice snarls.

Humpty looks taken aback. "What? I— I—"

Femurlina says, "I just offered him a hug—a comforting hug."

Humpty says, "Yeah, she was just being nice."

Reginald says, "She's one of my nicest servant girls."

Malice scowls at him before raising her head. "I just think, you shouldn't..." She flounders, thinking of what she can say that won't make her look bad.

Femurlina lets forth a groan. "You act like I'm doing something wrong or something. But everyone in Wonderland knows you're not an item, so there's no problem, right?" She looks at Humpty for confirmation.

And Humpty looks at Malice, seeming guilty. He says, "We're not boyfriend and girlfriend, but Malice is— You are—" he says while making eye contact, "Malice, you're a dear friend, and I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but—"

"But what?" Malice snaps.

Humpty winces. But he recovers and squares his shoulders as he says, "But it's really just a hug...that she wanted to give me. Nothing, uh...romantic."

Femurlina puts a hand on her bony hip. "Not that it would matter even if it were romantic, right?"

Malice mirrors the girl's posture. "Well, I'm sure that wouldn't be possible in the first place. No boy would have romantic feelings for your bony butt. Girl, you're all skin and bones! Oops, I mean you're all bones. And your skimpy bikini isn't fooling anyone—there's nothing underneath it."

Reginald says, "I think she has a lovely body and is a good kisser, too."

"Ew," Malice says to him.

Femurlina says, "Hmmph! Well, since you're so adamant that it's not even possible for him to have romantic feelings for me, then you can't possibly object to the hug, then. Sorted and done!" She faces Humpty—she holds her bony arms out wide. "So, come on, cutie pie! And let me comfort you!"

And Malice fumes as she watches Humpty blushing again.

That timid little boy is always blushing instead of taking actual action. Quite unlike Hatter, but then Hatty is bonkers. I suppose no one is perfect.

"Okayyy..." Humpty says hesitantly, and makes eye contact with Malice.

Malice thinks that if she makes too much of a fuss now, she'll just come across as weak and foolish, so she simply scrunches her mouth.

"Now it's awkward," Humpty says. He rubs the back of his neck again.

"Oh, don't be daft, silly billy," Femurlina says. She pulls him into an embrace.

"Awww," the Jabberwock says, and Malice shoots him a glare.

At first, Humpty's arms hang limply at his side, but now, he wraps his arms around Femurlina.

That should be me. I should be the only one comforting him!

Malice tries not to say anything, but she can't stop herself. "Be careful pressing against those ribs of hers, Humpty. You might pierce one of your lungs!"

The Jabberwock chuckles at that.

"Okay, are you all done?" the Horseman Head asks.

Now Humpty and the skeleton girl are rocking side to side, and Femurlina is saying, "Mmmmm."

"Oi!" Malice shouts. "I can be considerate and consoling too, you know! I shall join in the comforting hug as well! In fact, as Queen, I command it!"

Femurlina and Humpty seem somewhat taken aback, but let Malice join them in a group hug. Malice puts her arm around Femurlina's back and rests her palm upon the creepy, hard bumpiness of her spine. The whole time she wishes she were clasped in a one-on-one warm hug with her dear, timid and shy Humpty.

But it's a pleasant enough embrace, and they make groaning and humming hug-contentment noises. "Come on, Jabberwock, you too!" Malice says.

The Jabberwock says, "Errr, I would join you, but I don't want to accidentally drop my head."

Reginald says, "You could set your head on the ground..."

The Jabberwock says, "Well, I think they might be a bit put-off, hugging a headless body. And besides, the moment seems to have passed."

And indeed, the little group pulls out of their hug.

Malice says, "Well don't worry, Jabby, because I really believe that if we travel together to Jabberwock Valley, they'll figure out a way to get you a new jabberwock body, so you won't have to clop around with that borrowed, and expensive, body."

"Oi!" Reginald exclaims. "I happen to think it's a mighty noble and glorious body! I'll admit, it's not as young as it used to be, and it's missing one of its most handsome parts..."

"What part is that?" Humpty asks, with such a blatantly naive expression on his face, that Malice doesn't think he's kidding.

Malice groans and covers her face with her palm, as Reginald says, "Why, my head, my boy, because it is the home of my most majestic, glorious creation: my awe-inspiring mustache!"

"It tickles when we kiss," Femurlina says.

Malice shudders at the mental image, even while at the same time, a part of her is oddly intrigued. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the Jabberwock's face slip into a frown. And now she hears the Cheshire Cat behind her, saying, "Has the danger passed?"

"Yes," Malice says, "But don't interrupt, scaredy cat." To Reginald, she says, "I didn't mean to insult your body. It's so nice of you to let Jabby use it, though it's not a perfect solution. But in any case, what were you saying, previously about the hat the Snark was hiding in? The Snark confessed the Hatter had nothing to do with it."

Reginald says, "Well, some time ago— I can't say how many days ago, since apparently my mind was taken over, your Cook came to visit me, carrying the hat, saying it was a gift from the Hatter."

"Of course, the Snark confessed the Hatter had nothing to do with it."

"That was six days ago, Master," Femurlina says.

The Jabberwock says, "Thinking about that hat is what started my suspicions...Malice said the Snark had been milling about, and I thought of how differently Reginald had been acting..."

Malice says, "Yes, you put two and two together. It was brilliant detective work."

The Cat says, "Jabberwock? More like Sherlock!"

The quip causes everyone to chuckle.

Malice says, "Oh, silly kitty, you don't even know what we're talking about, do you?"

"No," the Cat says, "but it was a good line, nonetheless."

"Quite," Malice agrees. She looks down at the Horseman Head. "You said my Cook brought the hat? I was not aware of that."

"Here, let me lift him," Femurlina says, "so you don't have to strain your neck." She picks the head up and holds it so Malice can speak to him, eye to eye.

Malice says, "Thank you. Now, as I was saying, I was not aware the Cook was involved with the hat. Was he working with the Snark, do you think?"

"He?" Reginald says. "Your cook is a woman!"

"I should say not! Unless he's been keeping more secrets from us..."

"Perhaps there is a misunderstanding," Reginald says. "I'm speaking of your cook named Nellie, a middle-aged woman."

"Oh, that minger!" the Cat says.

Malice says, "That woman is the former Cook, who worked for the Queen of Hearts. She's an enemy of our present cook, who's a man. We recently had a run in with her."

"She tried to kill us!" Humpty says.

Malice says, "We escaped, and almost caught her. Due to the circumstances of the last time we saw her, we thought she might be dead, but apparently that's not the case. Do you think she was working with the Snark to try to get back at us?"

Reginald says, "I have no idea what her intentions might have been. All I know is that she came to me saying she had a gift from the Mad Hatter and she wished to speak to me privately. I suppose I should have been more suspicious, but I sent my girls away. When we were alone, Nellie told me she had a magic invisible hat, which the Hatter had made. She said it would turn invisible when I put it on, and give the illusion that I was not wearing a hat at all. I asked her why anyone would want an invisible hat, and she umm...told me it had magical properties, which um, she wouldn't tell me what they were. She said once I tried the hat on, I'd see. Now that I think back on it, it was strange how she was holding the hat—I couldn't see inside. Now we know why. I gave her permission to put the hat on my head, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up in the grass with the jealous queen and the rest of you."

"I'm not jealous," Malice snarls, and crosses her arms.

The Jabberwock says, "It was the Snark's doing. He wants to take over Wonderland. Luckily we were able to sniff him out, and get him out of your hair...so to speak."

"Good one!" the Cat congratulates.

The Jabberwock thanks him.

Reginald says, "And I am extremely grateful for your help, lad! And you, Humpty and Malice as well! Now, Cat, I'm not sure what role, if any, you played in all of this..."

The Cat sniffs, and dryly says, "I offer you my emotional support..."

"Splendid," Reginald says, politely.

Humpty says, "But it's not over yet. The Snark has escaped and plots against us."

"That's right," Malice says. "We must take action to thwart him. And the tribe of the jabberwocks must be warned of his malevolent plans. Since there is no easy way of communication with Jabberwock Valley, that means some persons or beings must travel there to warn them..." She looks at the Jabberwock and arches her brow.

The Jabberwock sighs dramatically.

Malice further prods, "Persons, or monsters, who the jabberwocks would listen to, such as a fellow jabberwock and a high-ranking damsel of Wonderland."

The Jabberwock rolls his eyes.

"I can't let you go alone, if you do," Humpty says, and Malice favors him with a smile.

Reginald says, "Yes, well, of course, I wish you only the best in your endeavors. I would hate to see the Snark in charge of anything, let alone the entirety of Wonderland. And though Malice might not be the best of all possible rulers, she is definitely better than him."

Malice grunts. "Am I expected to say thank you for that?"

"No thanks are necessary, lass! As a matter of fact, I should like to show my thanks to all of you. And so, as my way of showing my gratitude, Jabberwock, I offer you one full week of free rent of my body."

The Jabberwock grunts and looks somewhat pained. After several long moments, he says, "Thank you." Out of the corner of his mouth, he says, "And I hope someday to be able to return the body to you."

"Brilliant!" Reginald says, in a way that Malice suspects might be mocking. "And to you, Humpty, I offer you a week of free affection from Femurlina."

Femurlina squeals in delight, and almost claps her hands together, before realizing she's holding Reginald's head.

Humpty cringes. "Really...I don't...think..."

Malice rescues him. "He shan't be needing the services. But, on his behalf, I'm sure he thanks you profusely for the gesture."

Humpty nods and meekly says, "Yes."

If Femurlina's feelings are hurt, she doesn't let them show, as she says, "As you please."

"It's like Christmas!" the Cat says. In a teasing voice he asks, "What do I get?"

"Errr," Reginald's mouth twitches from side to side, causing his meticulously-waxed mustache to teeter-totter. "The servant girls shall set a saucer of milk out for you, if you wish. What did you contribute to my rescue, again?"

"Not a thing!" the Cat says with that grin of his. "Just wanted to know what I would've gotten, is all. I was just joshing you. But what of Malice?"

Reginald says, "Ah, last but definitely not least! I saved your astonishing, glorious reward for last, for dramatic effect."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Malice squeals and claps her hands. "Oh goody, goody!" she exclaims, overdoing it a lot in order to make everybody laugh. She scrunches her face and hops up and down. "What is it? What is it?!"

She was successful, and they're all laughing at her performance—even Femurlina is.

Reginald, however, is not—he looks very grave and serious, with an almost-scowl he is trying to hide. "I understand you are merely being mirthful, and I do not begrudge you for that, but the honor I am about to bestow upon you is quite profound."

Malice straightens her posture. "Yes, of course." She mimics his stern expression.

The silly thought of what she would look like with his mustache flashes through her mind, causing the edges of her mouth to turn up slightly in a smile, before she reasserts her stern-face.

Reginald proclaims, "For your aid in restoring me to the full control of my own head again, I grant you the gift of allowing you to touch my glorious mustache!"

Malice giggles.

The Cat says, "Ooooh."

And Humpty says, "I'm not sure I understand."

Malice winks at him. "What is there to understand?" She makes a flourished hand sweep toward Reginald's face. "Merely gaze upon the sight of the most glorious pieces of upper lip hair in all of Wonderland!"

Reginald grins.

Malice continues, on a roll, as she feels the influence of the black rose injecting her with dark poetry. "One can only attempt to take in all of the supreme splendor of its majesty, merely with one's sense of vision alone. And even the sight of it is enough to overwhelm one with a sense of smallness that consumes those who gaze upon a creation so grand and unfathomably majestic!"

Reginald smiles bigger.

"That's an awful lot of majesty!" the Cat exclaims, with such feeling in his voice, that Malice thinks he might not be joking.

Malice continues, "Oh, but it is the texture of the Creation that the unfortunate souls who can only gaze upon it shall never know. And it is with great humility and reverence that I accept your gift of letting me stroke the stache."

"Stache?" Reginald says.

"Short for 'mustache'," Malice replies.

"Ah, very good." Out of the corner of his mouth, Reginald says, "Get ready to bow my head." Now he returns his attention to Malice as he says, "It is my pleasure to bestow upon you the great honor of touching my stache, for I am so grateful to you for freeing me from the Snark's control. Now, please...partake of my stache." Out of the corner of his mouth, he whispers, "Now," and Femurlina tips his head forward in a bow gesture.

He swishes his mouth, making his mustache perform a jerky little dance.

Malice's jaw drops in wonder. "So beautiful...in a masculine way. Handsome, I mean. I wish I had the hormones to grow one, but even if I did, it could never match yours." She bows her head at him.

She takes two steps closer to the Horseman Head. She lifts her hand, and is embarrassed to realize that it's trembling. She reaches toward it, but doesn't touch it.

Malice forces herself to breathe steadily and focus on her momentous task. The rest of the group watches in solemn anticipation.

"Go on," Reginald coos.

And so she touches it with the tip of her finger. It is stiff and slightly moist from the wax.

"I can't believe I'm actually touching it," she whispers as she feels a tingly sensation on the tip of her finger. Is that from my excitement, or from something else? She takes a chance of pressing her middle finger against the mustache as well, and she softly strokes it. Her head snaps back as if she were struck. "I feel a surge...of energy!" she says.

Reginald says, "That's the power of the stache."

Malice hears the Cat next to her, quietly mutter to himself, "Crikey."

Malice says, "It's the black rose, it's drawing forth the power of the mustache...and the rose is connecting with its power, mixing with it." She lets out a little scream of pain as the electric feeling becomes too intense and she jerks her hand away.

Her arm feels as if it is on pins and needles.

"What's wrong?" the Cat says.

Meanwhile Humpty says, "Are you okay?"

And Malice closes her eyes, luxuriating in the sensation—it is like a drunken bubble bath of darkness all over her body. It is the feeling the black rose brings, though it's not as powerful as the first time she took it.

Oh, how I've missed this feeling.

"Nothing is wrong, blokes. I'm more than okay, I'm smashing," she says in a purry voice.

She feels a devious, quirky dark grin stretching the edges of her mouth.

"I'm glad?" Humpty says with his voice sounding somewhat fearful.

The Cat says, "Girl, you look wasted."

Malice opens her eyes to see the Cat's head floating in front of her face. He looks a bit blurry and seems to be shifting.

Slowly, she speaks, with her tongue feeling a little slow and numb: "I've just connected with the lip hair's power. The black rose has allowed me to experience the mustache on a truly deep, fundamental level."

Reginald says, "It's quite lovely, isn't it?"

"Indeed," Malice says. "Thank you for granting me the profound honor of touching it."

"Of course, Your Highness!" Reginald says. "For you see, I'm ever-so-grateful for you ridding me of the nuisance of that squidish Snark!"

"Sodding Snark!" the Cat exclaims in agreement.

Femurlina adds, "If I'd've known he was controlling you, I'd've shot him, Master."

"Thank you," Reginald says.

Malice jerks her head up, feeling a darkly thrilling sensation rising up within her. "How curious," she murmurs, as she stares straight ahead with unfocused eyes.

She sees the blurry blob shape of the Cat's head whiz out in front of her, but can't be bothered to focus her dazed-out eyes. The Cat says, "What's the issue with you, Miss Zoneout?"

In a monotone voice, Malice says, "I feel it inside, yearning and churning, twirling and swirling..."

"What is it?"

"The dark poetry of the black rose...inspired by the glory of the stache."

Reginald chuckles. "Brilliant!"

Malice says, "I feel it welling up inside of me, like a great tide of words..."

Gasps all around, and the Cat says, "Blimey."

"This poem is called, "Touching the stache."

And with a theatrical voice, speaking the way one should when reciting poetry, she speaks without having to really think up the words:

~*Touching the Stache*~

There was a time when it was at arm's length.

The distance spared me from its awesome strength!

To merely gaze at it will fill your mind with wonder,

But touching it will tear your soul asunder!

Its hairs are like petals upon the black rose,

For, like petals, the hairs all together compose

A frightening artwork you'd best not get too near,

Or they'll wreck your fond notions of what you hold dear.

But I am glad to have lost my naivety

To the coiffed petals of masculinity.

Just like I am glad that my corrupted nose,

Is ruined for all other flowers that aren't the black rose!

And so I praise the mustache, and quake at it!

And cower at its might! And worship it!

A proud display, a sweet dismay, the glory of the stache!

Like peacock tail, like fairy trail, the beauty of the stache!

After the completion of her poem, a stunned silence follows.

Malice meets their eyes (or eye sockets in Femurlina's case). "Behold," she says quietly. "That's the power of dark poetry."

Reginald says, "Well I am deeply honored by your poem."

"The honor is mine," Malice says. "But moving on to other matters..." To the Jabberwock, she says, "So, are you convinced now of the threat the Snark poses?"

"Aye," he says. "You were right. I must travel to Jabberwock Valley to warn them of the danger of that madman, err I mean, madparasite? Is that a word?"

Malice nods. "And I and a few trusted others shall accompany you." To Reginald, she says, "We shall be going on a trip, so we'll be off using your body for perhaps a few weeks. I hope to find the Jabberwock a new body while we're gone. We'll be sure to return yours once we're done."

Reginald says, "Hey, as long as I get paid. And I'll be sure to charge extra for any damage incurred."

"As I'd expect you to," Malice says. "Now, all that's left to do is to prepare for our departure, and get a few things settled beforehand."

CHAPTER TWENTY

Of course, the most pressing thing for them to do is to march on over to the hut next door, so the Jabberwock can give Sleepy B his announcement. So they proceed to do so.

As they walk inside, Sleepy B looks up from the book she's reading while lounging on the couch. She's wearing that dyed-purple, shortened nightgown.

I should talk to her about dressing more appropriately.

Sleepy B says, "So what did ol' shellac-head wanna speak to you about?"

"Well—" Malice says as they walk up to her, but she doesn't get to finish her sentence as Sleepy B eagerly rushes her words to say, "He didn't get mad and yell at you? He didn't...lose his head?!" She giggles for several seconds.

The Cat says to Sleepy B, "My darling, I'm sure you were just dying to accost us with that little 'jokey joke' of yours, but your delivery was rushed, and quite forced."

Sleepy B scowls and blows a raspberry at him. "Sorry I'm not as much of a joker as you are," she says.

"Quite so," the Cat says, taking the insult as a compliment.

The Jabberwock says to Sleepy B, "He told us some very eye-opening things."

Sleepy B looks at him and opens her eyes wide and forms her mouth into an open little "O". She stares at the Jabberwock for a long several seconds without blinking and manages not to laugh, though she's twitching.

The Jabberwock chuckles, says, "That face!"

The Cat says, "A much funnier delivery, darling! Perhaps you should stick to the physical comedy."

"Thank you," Sleepy B says, "but I shall still work on the verbal kind. So what did Master Mustache-face inform you of?"

The Jabberwock says, "The Snark is trying to destroy Wonderland and unite the Monsters of Woeland. He's a conniver, not to be underestimated."

"He's a slug!" the Cat says.

The Jabberwock tilts his head forward in order to nod. "Yes. We met the slug himself, and I'm now convinced that he's a grave threat to the jabberwocks and that they must be warned."

Sleepy B takes in a breath of air. "You mean?..."

"Yes, I've decided to travel to Jabberwock Valley, along with a team of others."

Sleepy B squeals and tosses aside her book, which ends up falling to the ground. She jolts to her feet. "Oh, Jabby!" She wraps her arms around the Jabberwock's borrowed body. She says, "I'm so glad you decided to go! We're going to have so many exciting adventures together, I just know it!"

The Jabberwock's body is holding its arms limply at its side, definitely not returning the hug. "Sleepy..." he says gently, trying to get the ecstatic girl's attention.

Sleepy B giggles and says, "But who else shall be on our team, hmm? Malice, are you coming too? And you too, Humpty?"

Malice nods uncomfortably, and Humpty looks shyly at the ground.

The Jabberwock says, "Sleepy B, love," a little more forcefully this time.

Sleepy B unwraps her arms and pulls away from him, a bewildered expression on her face. "What?"

The Jabberwock says, "I'm sorry, but you can't come. It could be dangerous, and you're too young."

Sleepy puts her hand upon her hip and unleashes a little growl. "I'm 11. Why, that's almost full-grown age in jabberwock years."

The Jabberwock says, "But you're not a jabberwock."

"Oh, but I am...in here." Sleepy B taps the side of her temple with her finger.

The Jabberwock says, "I'm sorry, but that doesn't count, darling. In human years, you're a little girl."

Sleepy B scowls, looking as if she is trying to hold back a severe tantrum. "You're wrong. In jabberwock years I'm already even older and more mature than you." She points at Malice. "You're 15 now, right? Only 15...as far as your physical body's age is concerned...because weren't you actually only 13 a month ago? But then your body was fast forwarded a couple of years, right? So aren't you really still only 13, in here?" Sleepy B taps the side of her head again.

"No," Malice says, feeling bewildered and uncertain, but she's committed to not being proven to be wrong. She searches her mind for an excuse and comes up with one. "Because there's also the matter of maturity levels. I have been taking on the responsibilities of a queen, while you have been sleeping all these years." Malice doesn't mention that it could be argued that, in terms of how long she's actually been alive, she herself isn't even half a year old yet.

"And also, there's your father..." Humpty says to Sleepy B.

Malice says, "Yes, I doubt he shall allow you to go, considering how dangerous it all is."

"Pffft," Sleepy B says. "Surely you jest. Daddy only cares about what makes interesting and exciting stories, and this one shall prove to be riveting, I've no doubt. Besides, he can no longer boss me around, for I've had quite enough of his shenanigans. Why, he kept me asleep for decades for his own selfish purposes. It'll be a long time before he makes it up to me."

Malice says, "Nonetheless. He's your father, and though you two may be squabbling now, he cares about you. I think you should at least talk to him about it."

"Fine." She rolls her eyes.

The Jabberwock says, "I really don't think you should come, darling. The other jabberwocks are mortal enemies of little girls..."

"But Malice—"

"I'm 15," Malice says.

The Jabberwock says, "Malice is a queen. They'll respect her power."

Sleepy B says, "And I'll make them respect me, too! And I'm sure you'll vouch for me, Jabby, and stick up for me. Plus, in my heart, I've decided to adopt the jabberwock ways. I want a jabberwock name, and I'll dress like a fierce warrioress. I'll even wear claws!"

Malice says, "You'd need new clothes, then. Even if you don't go, I think you could use a makeover."

"If it means I can go, I'll do it."

Malice sighs. "I don't want to get your hopes up. It's too dangerous for you."

"But it'll be even more dangerous for you if I don't go, because I have storytelling abilities that could keep you safe, and someday I could even possibly be more powerful than my daddy."

"But you're not, yet. And also, your father revoked your storytelling powers, remember?"

Sleepy B grins. "I can tell you're coming around. So, I'll talk to my father, tomorrow probably. And I'll get new clothes. We're not leaving tomorrow are we? How many days of preparation will we have?"

Malice says, "We haven't agreed to let you come. But no, we shan't leave tomorrow. We must take a few days to set things in order, I should think. We must assemble our team and supplies, figure out who to put in charge while I'm gone. And we should attend to the matter of a certain rascally former-Cook before we go..."

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

As soon as Malice gets back to the castle, she asks Hatter to join their quest team.

Though he is still clearly mad at her, he agrees.

There are a few other characters Malice wants to approach about joining the team, but she wants to resolve the issue with the former Cook if she can, before they leave, so she sends a bunch of guard cards out on a scouting mission. Neither the former Cook nor the Snark have been sighted recently.

She makes sure to water her secret stash of black roses in her hidden away area of the garden. She is pleased to see them starting to poke out from the soil. When the new black roses grow, she will no longer be in danger of running out. In fact, the current black rose is looking a bit sickly, since she's already plucked so many of its petals.

Shortly after returning from her secret garden, a most curious thing occurs.

One of the guard cards tells her that a message has arrived, via carrier pigeon.

No one knows who sent the pigeon.

The little rolled up piece of paper is sealed and on the outside reads the words: For Queen (M)alice's eyes only.

Malice sits alone in her personal chambers at her writing desk. She wonders why the M has parentheses around it. She tears the piece of paper that serves as a seal for the message underneath. The words are written in tiny letters in order to fit on the small piece of paper, so she fetches her magnifying glass and reads:

For Queen (M)alice's eyes only.

I trust that you have discovered the statue I made in your honor. I am sure you wonder who I am. I am a secret admirer.

I'm sure you agree that the statue I made is marvelous, even better than the original! And the motto: "Better to try and fail," is in reference to you. You shall surely fail as Queen, you poor dear, but it is so valiant of you to put forth the good effort!

The statue shall exist on long after your reign ends. It shall serve as a sort of permanent mockery. Ha ha. But it is like our private joke. For I know that, because of your pride, you will publicly praise the statue. What else can you do? You can't have it destroyed. What would people think then?

And so it shall serve as a constant taunting that you will have to bear with a smile! And that is why I made the statue for you!

Oh, I must inform you that I have hidden something for you. Look for the tree to the right of the statue's right temple. The tree with a knothole. Inside the knothole is a button of sorts that opens a compartment in the tree. Inside the compartment is a steel mallet that you might use to break the statue when no one is watching. I suggest you strike the statue's face first.

Why did I put it there? Why, to taunt and mock you further, little little queen. For I know you won't have the guts to destroy your precious statue and then have to answer embarrassing questions. And so the very existence of the mallet shall serve to constantly torment you and serve as evidence of your cowardice.

By now I'm sure you are just dying to know: Who am I? I am someone who yearns to be near you, for you have captured my heart. Perhaps someday I shall reveal myself.

Sincerely,

He who awaits you from afar

P.S. I suggest you burn this message after reading.

Malice lets forth a shout of rage. At first she had thought the statue came from Hatter, but now, she realizes it came from someone who desires her, yet is afraid of her rejection. Someone within her very own court, perhaps. But who? Or perhaps it's the Snark's doing, after all.

She considers sending her guards immediately over to smash the infernal statue to bits. But it is just as the message said: she would be embarrassed to give such an order, too proud to admit the statue is intended as a grand insult after she had made such a show of basking in the glow of her adoration, claiming the statue was a symbol of how much everyone loves her.

But whoever made that statue wants to goad me and manipulate me into smashing it, she thinks to herself. So they can laugh at me, no doubt. Well I shan't be manipulated. I shall leave the statue and the blasted mallet where they are. And when I find out who is behind this, there shall be another occupied cell in the dungeon! Until then, I suppose I shall have to grin and bear it, and continue acting as if the statue is a great honor. Oh, this is so very upsetting. I believe I need a little bit more of the black rose medicine to calm me.

She nibbles a bit of a petal. She closes her eyes and grins as the calming effects come on.

And then she lights a match and sets the message aflame.

She hopes to find out the vile fiend's identity soon, but in the meantime, she has to stay productive, she has to assemble her team.

"Do you know the whereabouts of the Knight these days?"

Hatter's eyes grow wide in alarm. "Malice...no. You know the Knight is terrified to be around you."

Malice taps at her lower lip with her finger. "Yes, yes. His partha...pantha..."

Hatter winces at her mangling of the word before rescuing her by saying, "Parthenophobia."

"Yes, I can never get that word right." It's a big fancy word that refers to the Knight's fear of little girls. Of course, she's 15 now, and doesn't consider herself a little girl, but apparently the Knight's phobia feels differently.

"Yes, well he's been doing therapy with my psychiatrist, but I don't think he's quite ready to be around you, what with him being terrified, the poor sod."

"So he's made progress."

"So he tells me, but I don't think he's a good candidate to be on our team."

"But he's the Knight! His whole life is dedicated to quests and epic adventures. If he finds out we went on an epic quest without even inviting him?" She pulls a face. "He'll be woefully offended, I'm certain. So I wish to visit him and formally invite him. Now, you know where he is staying?"

"Yes, I visit him from time to time. We like to compare our insanities. I even recommended my shrink to him, and as a matter of fact, I know they shall be engaging in a session tomorrow afternoon. Since you're so determined to invite him, I daresay it'd be best to visit him while my shrink is there."

"Why?"

"The therapist shall be able to quell his fears, should he go off his rocker."

"I see. Very well, we'll visit him tomorrow. I'll tell Humpty."

"But I must warn you. The Knight has holed up within a fort of his own devising. It is inside a cave that he has filled with a series of "anti-little-girl" challenges comprised of an assortment of things that are the exact opposite of little girls. He feels that his decor shall ward off little girls by making them extremely uncomfortable. Do you still insist on paying him a visit? Won't a note do?"

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

It is midafternoon, and Malice hasn't had any of the black rose since early morning. She's been trying to limit her intake and is proud she was able to control her dosage. She intends to go another two or three days without taking any more.

Malice, Hatter, and Humpty are in the middle of the forest, approaching a cave entrance on a hillside. According to Hatter, inside is a long cave that forms a tunnel the Knight filled with a series of anti-little-girl challenges.

They look at the wooden sign on a post next to the cave entrance.

In blue paint, the sign reads: Beware ye all little girls who enter The Anti-Little-Girl Tunnel, for it represents everything that is the opposite of little girls! Turn back ye before it's too late! This is no cave for little girls!

"Well," Malice says as they all raise their heads, "he seems to have quite the fixation, doesn't he? I mean, a whole fort and everything. Such a contrivance! All designed to keep little girls away from the precious quivering knight. The only chink in the armor, as it were, is that I'm not actually a little girl. I'm 15! Surely, whatever obstacles he has devised shall have no effect whatsoever upon me."

"Nevertheless..." Hatter says. His countenance looks doubtful.

"Nevertheless, what?"

Hatter says, "Nevertheless, perhaps if we simply call out to the Knight and the shrink, they'll come out and talk to us. No need to go through any unnecessary bother, yeah?"

"Why, little Hatter! If I weren't aware that you'd certainly know better, I'd venture to say you think I can't handle the little Knight's little obstacle course."

"Everything's so little," Humpty mutters under his breath.

Malice makes a smacky sound with her mouth at his comment.

The Cat says, "I for one would be thrilled to see you make your way through the cave. I daresay, it would make a most thrilling show!"

Hatter huffs. "She shouldn't put herself in danger merely for your amusement!"

"So now it's dangerous?" Malice says with a smirk.

"Of course not, dear," Hatter says. "But it shall be quite a bother."

"So you exaggerated," Malice chastises.

Before Hatter can respond, Humpty says to the Cat, "Why don't you make yourself useful, and pop into the cave to announce our arrival?"

The Cat swivels his floating head to face him, turns his snout up in the air. "Little boy, you offend me! I have a strict policy of non-interference."

Humpty grunts and crosses his arms, mutters under his breath, "Little this, and little that."

Malice says, "Yes, he does seem to engage in non-interference most often when he doesn't want to be bothered. And since he would enjoy so much watching me go through the Knight's challenges, I've changed my mind."

"Spite!" the Cat shouts.

"Quite," Malice says. "Now who shall do the bellowing?" She looks at Humpty and Hatter.

Humpty looks down. "I dislike yelling. Apologies."

Hatter says, "I quite enjoy a good yell! I find them quite invigorating!"

Malice says, "Go on then. I should very much like to hear what you come up with."

"Won't you join me?" Hatter says. "A good yell may improve your sullen demeanor."

Malice smooths her black dress. "That wouldn't be very dignified. I'm a queen. And I'm not sullen."

Hatter rolls his eyes. "Very well. I shall commence my yelling now."

"Please do," Malice says.

Hatter cups his hands around his mouth and yells into the cave, "Knight! The Queen is here, you daft git! She wishes to speak to you about joining her on an adventure, ya lily-livered sod. And she can't be bothered with your daft obstacles! So haul your bum out here! Your Queen awaits!"

And now Hatter beams Malice a smile. "How was that?"

"Why were you so insulting?" Malice says.

Hatter blinks at her for several seconds. "I thought it was what was expected of me."

"It wasn't," Malice says.

"I found it quite lively," the Cat says.

Humpty sighs loudly while Malice glares at the Cat.

And now from inside the cave, comes a man's voice, shouting, "Allay your misplaced anger and aggression, Hatter."

"What's that, Froud?" Hatter shouts.

Malice recalls Froud as the gnome psychotherapist who inspected her ticktock heart. The gnome's voice shouts out, "In other words, hold your horses! It takes time for me to walk the length of this cave! I can't magically teleport like that passive-aggressive, egotistical Cat!"

The Cat shouts, "Spare us the psychobabbly gobbledygook, you quack!"

"Quack?" Froud's voice shouts. "Blast you, you confounded feline, and your sociopathic antagonism. What happened to you in your formative stages, to cause you to project your self-loathing outward?!"

Malice and Humpty glance at each other, and the unspoken message they share with each other is, "What is that guy even on about? Was what he said, even words?"...at least that's what Malice tries to convey, but since it's nonverbal, Humpty might not get her exact message.

But he nods as if he understands.

Malice looks at Hatter and he shrugs, and the expression on his face conveys the unspoken message to her of, "Hey, I don't know what he's talking about, either, but he's always like this, so I've stopped fighting it." At least that's Malice's interpretation—it might not be literal, or word-for-word.

She hears footsteps from inside, echoing off the stone walls, and growing louder.

Froud says, "Alrighty then, here I am, ya blasted neurotic buggers!"

He walks out from inside the darkness of the cave, now. A waft of smoke floats out in front of him. He's a gnome. He looks like a short, four foot tall man with a pug nose and a long white beard, smoking a large cigar that looks huge on him. He wears a dapper pin stripe suit. A gold watch chain dangles from his breast pocket.

Froud sees Humpty looking at him and he waves his cigar through the air, sending out swirling plumes of smoke. He says, "Yah, yah. I'm a cigar-smoking gnome and you're jealous of my vest. But be careful about externalizing scrutiny in order to avoid self-reflection."

"Errr. Okay?" Humpty says.

Froud turns his head to Hatter. "Have you been keeping up with your psychological exercises? Recording your dreams?"

Hatter sneers. "Why? So I can be cured? I rather fancy my madness."

Froud says, "So you say. You may even believe you do, but subconsciously, you don't. But it's not just about that—the exercises can help you resolve conflicts in your interpersonal relationships." He glances briefly at Malice before looking away.

What have those two been saying about me?

"Pish posh," Hatter says. "The fact of the matter is we're not here for me and my madness. The Queen is here to invite the good Knight on an adventure."

Froud seems distracted with scrutinizing Humpty, who has started blushing.

Froud says, "I say, my boy, what psychological issues do you have? You seem to be experiencing anxiety, presently."

"Lack of assertiveness, perhaps," Malice says.

"Ah, I see!" Froud says. "I'd love to try out some new therapies on the lad, but as for you..." He looks to Malice. "The Knight still hasn't resolved his parthenophobia."

"But you see, I'm not a little girl..."

"Yes," says Froud, "I can tell by your...physical characteristics, but we are dealing with an irrational phobia here, and you are a subconscious representation of the mother figure who symbolically 'killed' the child by distancing herself from him during his adolescence."

Malice struggles to understand his words. "Wait, are you talking about where his phobia came from? It came from Alice, not because she symbolically killed, but because she actually did kill him, literally."

Froud sniffs. "Yes, symbolically as well as literally. But I doubt you have the training to understand such nuances. The fact of the matter is that the Knight will only speak to you if you go through the course of challenges. He believes that if you make it through, then it shall mean you no longer have any little girl inside you. And so he shall be much calmer when he speaks to you."

Malice sighs loudly. "The Knight is mental."

Froud says, "Yes, even he admits it doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but he is in the grip of a deep-seated unresolved inner conflict with a representational mother figure."

"Oh, sod it!" Malice says. "He's scared of little girls because a little girl killed him!"

Froud taps his chin. "Doesn't that explanation strike you as a bit too...obvious? It is the sort of conclusion an untrained amateur would leap to."

The Cat snarls, "We could test the theory. She could snap your neck and see if you develop a phobia of her."

Malice chuckles. "Oh, hush you."

"But it made you laugh," the Cat says. "Usually, you'd scold."

"Yes," Malice says, "it's the black rose in me. Get used to me being this way, I suppose."

Froud exhales a puff of smoke he'd been inhaling, and coughs. "The black rose, you say?"

"Why, yes," Malice says. "You could say I've been using it to treat a certain psychological disorder I had, of occasional bouts of heartlessness. But now I'm fixed because of it, and all without having to explore my subconscious at all."

Humpty chimes in, "Yes, she's been much more stable of late!"

Froud says, "But of course! The black rose has massive therapeutic capabilities because of its effects upon the mind. I have read a great deal about it in my studies. I find its reported effects most intriguing and scrumptious! In fact, I believe the black rose's influence is exactly what is warranted in this case. There is a kind of therapy that makes use of the black rose's properties, that I think shall be extremely useful in this case. I daresay I think I may be able to cure the Knight of his phobia once and for all!"

Dryly, Hatter says, "I would truly be impressed if you managed to cure him...or anyone."

Malice says, "The black rose can help? But I only have enough for myself..."

"That's of no concern, young lady!" Froud says. "The therapeutic session would be a one time event to resolve his unresolved internal issues. The rose shall help him bring his subconscious thoughts to the surface to connect with yours."

"Wait, he's to connect with my thoughts? I hope it isn't in the same manner that the Snark 'connects with others thoughts'!"

"No, nothing like that. But the effects of the black rose can be very powerful, in a therapeutic setting. Of course, I shall guide the process using my profound skills and experience during the therapy session."

"Sounds like mumbo jumbo to me," Hatter says.

"Codswallop," the Cat says.

"What if it makes him worse?" Humpty says.

Malice sighs. "How much black rose would it take? I brought a wee bit with me..."

Froud's eyes widen. "You brought some? From what I've read, it wouldn't take much. You'd both have to dose, then engage in certain exercises so you can play off each other's thoughts. You must follow where the black rose takes you, and where that shall be, is anyone's guess. And um, I should take a dose of the black rose as well."

"What?" Malice says. "Why should you? I thought it was only the Knight's and my subconsciouses that needed to be connected."

The Cat says, "Methinks he just wishes to be darkly drunk himself."

Froud says, "Utterly preposterous. I merely think it would help if I was in a similar state, for it would help me better get in tune with their needs in order to guide the process."

Malice peers closely at Froud, who shrugs. Malice thinks he might be lying, but she isn't completely sure. She'll have to be wary of him. She says, "I'm not so sure about that. Perhaps you need to keep level-headed to guide this so-called therapy of yours."

Froud says, "If it'll ease your mind, I could take some of the black rose now. That way I'll be more aware of what you'll be going through, but it'll wear off by the time you get through the challenges."

"Not blooming likely!" Malice says. "The effects of the rose lasts many days."

"I can vouch for that," Hatter says.

"Yeah, you'll still be well walloped," says the Cat.

"But surely the effects will be lessened," Froud says.

"Clam it shut!" Malice shouts. "I shan't waste any of the black rose on you before I meet the knight, in case he decides to chicken out, or refuse the treatment for some reason."

Froud says, "But I believe it shall be essential for me to take some, because—"

Malice waves her hand through the air dismissively. "Enough with your long-winded explanations." She turns to Hatter, and says, "You say he treated you? Is he competent or just some quack?"

Hatter thinks for a bit. "Oh, he is a most competent quack, in my opinion."

Malice groans. "Could he truly cure the Knight, do you think, with that black rose therapy he was on about?"

Froud opens his mouth to say something, but Malice holds up a warning finger to quiet him.

After some thought, Hatter says, "I very well think he could. But I admit, I resisted his treatments in the past."

Froud says, "There are those who don't feel the need to be normalized, I suppose."

"Quite," Hatter says with a nod. "I rather fancy my madness. I don't consider it such a malady. In fact, I once heard the good shrink here slip once and refer to it as my 'divine madness' once. But of course he seemed frightfully embarrassed immediately afterward, and never again uttered the phrase in my presence."

Humpty says, "Morley often speaks of the divine madness of poets and such."

Froud looks flustered, "I never said such a thing. As a psychiatrist it is my duty to abolish madness, not to glorify it, therefore it is only logical I never said that, and that Hatter here is being irrational." He looks at Hatter with an expression of pity. "Sorry, old chap."

Malice says, "Yes, I'm sure he's mistaken, but he trusts that you're competent enough to cure the Knight, so I shall put my trust in your guidance, for I very much wish the Knight to join us. But I stand by my decision not to give you any black rose until I meet with the Knight. The flower doesn't grow on trees after all."

Her little quip brings forth some chuckles, except for from Froud, who still looks uncomfortable. "But—"

"No more 'buts'!" Malice shouts and stomps her foot. "I am the Queen and I have made my decision. So I shall go through this little 'anti-little-girl' obstacle course of his, and I'm sure I shall defeat it all handily! Come on lads, it shall be a jolly good time, and a little test of how we work together as a team, before our bigger adventure out in the wild! So let's go, you wiley bunch of blokes."

Hatter starts giggling, which makes the Cat chuckle.

And Humpty takes on a crooked little grin. And meekly, he says, "Hip hip..."

"Hooray!" Malice shouts, and she punches her fist in the air.

"Hip hip!" Humpty shouts, with much more gusto, this time.

"Hooray!" the rest of the group (except for Froud) shouts.

And they enter the cave of "Everything the opposite of little girls".

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

They can't see very far ahead, due to a curve in the cave and the murky darkness, even though there are torches dimly lighting the cave with their flickering light.

Up ahead, the head of a man with a mustache pokes out from around the bend in the cave, before ducking back.

The Knight's voice calls out, "Queen Malice! My how you've grown!"

Malice shouts back, "Yes, no need to be afraid."

"I am not merely afraid. I have a condition. A phobia that arose from a traumatic experience, isn't that right, Froud?"

Froud nods. "It's a pathology."

Malice shouts, "But I'm 15 now. No longer am I a little girl. So there's no need for me to go through your silly challenge course."

"You might still be little on the inside!" the Knight shouts in a shrill voice.

"Oh, fiddle-faddle!" Malice shouts and stomps her foot. "I came to invite you on an adventure!"

"Adventure? With you?"

"Yes, with me. And others, to help the Jabberwock. Oh, won't you quit hiding in your cave and come talk to me?"

Slowly, the Knight pokes his head out around the curve in the cave, now he steps out and stands fifteen feet away, with his hands covering his eyes. He looks just as Malice remembered him: An older man in black armor, with a sword in a scabbard at his side, not wearing a helmet, and with a floppy white mustache.

The Cat gives forth a stage laugh. "Scaredy cat!"

Hatter says, "I think he's shivering."

Malice says, "Oh, do uncover your eyes won't you! I won't bite."

The Knight makes a whimpery sound to himself that he attempts to hide. "No, you'll just snap my neck!"

"Oh, you're still hung up on that? That wasn't even me. It was Alice!"

"Yeah!" the Knight shouts. "And you're just like her! And just so you know, I'm covering my eyes to avoid hurting them with the bright light, since it was so dark back there."

To her left, Malice hears Humpty mutter under his breath, "Poor sod."

Now Froud pipes up. "Now, what did I tell you about the importance of honesty in your recovery?"

The Knight grunts, straightens his shoulders as if to gather courage. "Okay, I'm afraid of Malice. I don't even want to look at her. No offense intended. I'm rather embarrassed about it, really. Perhaps Her Highness might be better served by another knight? I recently encountered one by the name of the Tin Knight."

Malice gasps. "The Tin Knight? Was he searching for the ticktock heart?"

The Knight shrugs while still covering his eyes. "He was a rather tight-lipped bloke. Said he was in Wonderland on a secret mission. Wouldn't tell me where he came from, or anything. But we got along well enough. I gave him something of my own invention."

"What?" Malice says.

"Um, I can't remember if that was one of the things he swore me to secrecy about. Oops, actually he made me swear not to mention him at all. Promise not to tell him, eh?"

Malice groans. "Where can I find him, if I want him to join our team, then?"

"He wouldn't say, plus he swore me to secrecy. Oops, I mean, someone swore me to secrecy about some matter...or perhaps another."

Malice groans. "Did he seem angry? And what did he look like?"

"I am a knight who is always loyal to his oaths. And assuming I took one, it's a secret."

"Oh, fiddlesticks," Hatter says. "Do you wish to join us on our adventure or not? It's quite alright if you don't, just don't waste our time, old chap."

While still holding his hands over his eyes, the Knight says, "I'll join you if Her Royal Highness proves she no longer harbors any remnants of little girlness within."

Malice huffs. "Why should I have to prove anything to you? I'm doing you a favor by offering you the opportunity to join us on our grand adventure."

"My apologies, My Queen," says the Knight. "I don't mean to unduly impose, but I would feel ever-so-much safer if you went through the course of challenges. I am fully aware my imposition is neither rational nor reasonable."

Malice groans, mulling it over.

Hatter whispers to her, "I thought you wanted to go through the course. A good challenge, you said, right?"

Malice keeps her voice down as she says, "Yes, but that was before the Knight imposed. I quite despise doing things that are expected of me, you know?"

"Oh, quit being such a priss," the Cat whispers, butting into their conversation.

"No one was talking to you!" Malice shouts in a whisper, while attempting to poke the Cat in the forehead, but the Cat floats away while hissing.

"Perhaps it's not worth the bother," Humpty offers meekly.

"Well..." Malice says while contemplating.

Froud butts in, sounding a bit panicked, with, "I'm sure the Knight would be extremely grateful if you did this great favor for him. And I've no doubt you'll enjoy the black rose therapy afterward. A bit of an excuse to imbibe, don't you think?" He grins.

"Well..." Malice says, whilst tapping her chin. "It's true that partaking of the black rose's darkly sweet enrapture is most alluring."

Froud stares at her for several long seconds, seemingly smitten by her words. But now he snaps out of it, and says, "Indeed." He shouts out, "I told her you'd be supremely grateful if she were to go through your tests. Isn't that correct?"

"Oh yes!" the Knight shouts back. "I would worship you as a queen!...assuming, of course, that you're able to pass."

The Cat lets loose a chortle, as Malice shouts, "Of course I'll be able to pass your silly little game, you presumptuous clod! I shall slay it like you would claim to slay a dragon. I shall handle it handily for I...we, are fierce warriors, not some bunch of bumbling, weak..." She pauses searching for a word in her rage-addled brain.

"Little girls?" the Knight offers in a teasing voice.

"That's right!" Malice shouts. "We'll make a mockery of your little obstacle course. To us, it shall be like— like..."

"Mincemeat?" Hatter offers.

"No, that's silly," Malice says. "No, we shall make childsplay of it."

"I don't think—" Humpty says.

The Cat laughs, says, "You're going to make childsplay of the anti-little-girl challenges in order to prove you're not a little girl?"

Hatter chuckles. "Irony!"

"Ugh!" Malice says. "Don't remind me of that wretched Storyteller."

Humpty says, "Yes, don't antagonize her. If we're going to do this, perhaps it'd be best if we just get on with it."

"Yes, let's!" Malice says. "We need to get this out of the way, because there's so many other chores that need to get done before we go on our quest for the Jabberwock."

The Knight says, "You know, the jabberwocks also have a longstanding dislike of little girls. It's a part of their culture."

"I'm aware," Malice says.

"Too bad the chap isn't here with you," the Knight says. "He'd be able to relate to me, in a way. He could perhaps teach me some new songs..."

"Actually, the Jabberwock is quite tolerant of little girls. But you're holding us up. Let's go!" She starts tromping forward. "What's first? Bring it on!"

Froud hastens to scamper along beside her, as the others follow behind. The Knight, hearing her footsteps, peeks through his fingers. He shrieks and runs off, further inside the cave.

"First, is the dress," Froud says.

"The dress?"

From farther down the tunnel, the Knight shouts, "The Gown of Extraordinary Anti-frilliness. Come along. It's just around the corner."

They round the corner. Now Malice stares at the small circular area surrounded by black curtains hanging from a circular pole.

"It's behind those curtains," Froud explains. "He designed it to be the most anti-frilly, unfeminine dress anyone could ever imagine."

Malice scrunches up her face in mock contempt. "You mean, like a kilt."

"No, a kilt's a skirt, not a dress," Froud says defensively. Now he seems a bit flustered. "I mean to say, they're in two different categories of clothing entirely. Completely unrelated."

"Quite," Malice says mockingly. "So at least there won't be any plaid, I hope."

"Plaid is atrocious," the Cat remarks.

"I don't find it so unpleasant," Humpty says.

Froud says, "Anyhow, the gown shall be your first test, because—"

The Knight interrupts him by shouting, "If she can wear it without squealing!"

"What's that?" Froud says, turning his head to look at him, but the Knight is hidden in the darkness of the tunnel beyond.

Hatter says, "What if my hat was plaid?"

The Knight shouts, "If she can wear it without squealing...tell her!"

"She'd squeal if she wore plaid?" Hatter says, looking confused.

"Shhh," Malice tells him. "We're no longer talking about plaid," to which Hatter says, "Oh."

"Oh yes," Froud says. "The Knight has spoken a great deal of the anti-frilliness dress, on and on he has gone. He is so proud of his fashion designer abilities. He sewed and adorned the dress himself, and he has said that if you can put the dress on without squealing like a little girl, it will be a good sign that you have grown."

"But I already have a dress," Malice says, while slightly lifting it. "My dress of moderate poofiness."

Froud says, "There is a rack you can hang it upon behind the curtains, and you can retrieve it after the challenges."

"A show of faith!" the Knight shouts out, and Malice shoots him an irritated glare, though she can't see him.

She shouts, "I'm the Queen and you're the Knight! If anything, you should be showing me some faith!"

"You tell him," encourages the Cat.

After a brief hesitation, the Knight calls out, "Please, Your Most Royal Highness. I would be ever-so-grateful of your going along with my admittedly off-putting imposition. You are most glorious and benevolent!"

"Oh now you're just sucking up!" she shouts. "And I like it! Very well. I will go along with all of this, for now. But you shall owe me a great deal for all this nonsense, of that you can be sure. Now, enough dilly-dallying, let's see this dress of yours..."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Malice parts the black curtain and gasps when she sees what is within.

Her eyes widen as she gazes at the dress in front of her. It was fashioned from ugly, rough material and fits the clothes-mannequin like a loose, formless sack with some sloppy short sleeves attached. The fabric has been dyed a rich blue, but the color looks murky and uneven. Small images of ornamental swords have been crudely drawn on the dress in a repeating pattern. Instead of lace, the sleeves are edged with sandpaper lined with little metal spikes. Malice hopes they aren't sharp, because she doesn't want to poke herself while putting the confounded dress on.

The voice of the Knight calls out, "Yes, it's true! I fashioned it from a burlap sack! Much like the ones the horrible little girls might have kept the baby jabberwocks in when they kidnapped them. Did the Jabberwock ever tell you that part of their history?"

"No!" Malice calls out. "He doesn't speak very much about it."

"A pity that—" the Knight says.

Malice cuts him off. "Hold on. I must put on this wretched-looking garment."

As she undresses, she wonders, Why blue? Is it because blue is supposedly the color of boys, whereas pink is for girls? After hanging her black dress up, she stares at the burlap dress for a moment.

Such a masculine shade of blue. But girls can wear blue too.

She stares more, not wanting to actually put the thing on.

It's atrocious.

Hatter's voice shouts out, "You okay in there, sweetie?"

"Oh yeah! Just about to put this bad boy on! And the pun is completely intended...for this is the most masculine dress I've ever seen! It's the sort of ultra-masculine dress a teenaged boy would make to impress other boys."

"A kilt?" the Cat shouts.

"Not a kilt!" the Knight shouts, sounding offended.

Malice is holding the dress in her hands now. "Are the spikes sharp?"

The Knight answers, "No! You can feel for yourself. I don't want to hurt you, just repel any little-girlness you harbor inside."

"Yes, yes, so you've said. Please wait while I put it on."

The Knight says, "Good luck!... I wish the Jabberwock were here. I've learned how to sing a number of little-girls-goodbyes and he could sing along with me."

Malice doesn't reply. Instead she grunts as she struggles to put on the anti-frilly dress.

It's currently covering her head. She hears the muffled voice of the Cat saying, "Why don't you sing anyway? We would so much like to hear."

"Stupid instigator," Malice mutters to herself. She pulls the dress over her head.

Just in time to hear the Knight's off-key voice, singing the words:

"Hush little jabberwock,

Don't you cry.

Mama's gonna sing you

A little-girls-goodbye."

The Cat says, "Well that one was bland, but it's a good start."

She hears Hatter say, "I don't think you should be singing those. It could upset her."

"Yes," Humpty says, "don't let her hear."

"Too late! I already did!" She's not sure if she wants to ask him to stop singing, because even though the little-girls-goodbyes are about killing girls, she's only heard a few of them, and she's curious.

She whips the black curtain aside. All the guys' eyes shift onto her and make wrinkly faces of disgust, except for Froud. The Knight is not in sight, since he's still hiding in the darkness farther down the cave tunnel.

Malice lifts her hands in the air. "Tada!" And she gives a little twirl. "Isn't it marvelous in its hideousness?"

"It's astoundingly ugly," Humpty says, and now his mouth is hanging open as he gazes at her backside. "Wait, what's that?"

"I must avert my gaze!" Hatter says. He covers his eyes and turns his head.

Froud says, "That was my reaction when I first saw it, too."

The Knight shouts, "No doubt you gentlemen have noticed how utterly blue it is. I personally dyed the fabric. The dress is so overwhelmingly masculine that it would take a strong woman to bear wearing it. And surely, no mere little girl would be able to do so."

"A good thing I'm not one, then," Malice says.

"Interesting!" the Knight calls.

Malice expects the Knight to say more, but he doesn't, so when she looks to Froud questioningly, Froud shrugs and says, "The Knight holds many rather unrealistically stereotypical notions of the sexes. I daresay, he's delusional...as you're sure to see in the next challenges..."

"What's that ring for?" Humpty says while pointing at Malice's rear end.

"Decorum!" Hatter chastises.

"What are you on about?" Malice says.

Humpty says, "There's a metal O-ring on the back of the dress."

"There is?" Malice says, while twisting to look, but she is unable to see.

"Indeed there is," Hatter says.

"Oh? What's it for?" Malice says to Froud.

He answers, "For tying or latching things onto it, of course."

"Such as?" Malice says.

Froud shrugs. "We shall have to see."

Malice groans.

Froud perks up. "Ah, yes! You have passed the first test. But there are still quite a few more to go. Let us proceed..." He begins walking, beckoning the others to follow.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

As they walk farther down the dank, dark cave, the singing voice of the Knight echoes against the cave walls:

"Grrr awoo, awooga, grrr awoo skree iye!

Tear her limbs asunder!

That's a jabberwock lullaby!"

"There," he says. "You wished to hear another."

"Irish lullaby," Humpty mutters.

Malice nods at him. "And I daresay the jabberwocks seem a bit obsessed with killing little girls."

The Knight calls back, "Not surprising, given what I know of their past experiences. And yes, it does sound like the Irish lullaby. You'll find that many jabberwock songs are that way."

They come upon curtains blocking the view of farther down the cave. Since they're black, Malice hadn't realized they were there before. Froud pulls on some rope, and the curtains part. "Behold!" he says, with a flourish of his hand. "You are presented with a choice."

Ahead of them, they see that the cave splits into two different tunnels.

A wooden sign is affixed to the wall of stone in front of them.

Malice reads the first line: What are little girls made of? but doesn't read further.

Instead she inspects the path to the left.

A pool of mud blocks the way, reaching from one side of the cave to the other—about six feet across.

On the other side of the mud pool is a raised wooden drawbridge—taut ropes seem to be holding it in an upright position. The ropes extend farther back into the tunnel, over the top of a solid iron gate, in front of which sit two large objects—a giant slug, and a snail, that appear to be crudely made of papier mache and sloppily painted. A large cloth hangs from the cave ceiling between the mud moat and the gate—it appears to be weighed down by some sort of material within—sand or water, perhaps. On the ground, below the cloth rests a vase with designs painted on it—she squints to try to make them out—they look like red flame designs.

Hatter begins humming the tune but he badly mangles a few notes, as Malice looks down the path on the right, where she sees a moat of water blocking the tunnel. There is another wooden drawbridge with ropes holding it upright, with the ropes leading to another gate farther along. That gate is solid wood, and painted bright pink. The water moat looks more pleasant than the mud, and in fact, the whole right path looks pleasanter...and more feminine, and seems designed to be the opposite of the left tunnel. Instead of the snails and slugs, in front of the pink gate, there is a table covered in a pink frilly table cloth atop of which is a huge pile of various pink pastries and cakes and cookies.

"All that pink is searing my eyes," she mutters. She looks to see if there is a vase on the pink side, and there she sees it resting on the ground—it's the same shape, but covered in sparkling glitter. She looks up at the ceiling—there is no tarp there.

As Hatter sings, "What are little girls made of?... Sugar...and umm—" He hums some before grunting. "Oh, how does it go?"

"It's on the sign," Malice says.

Now Humpty helps Hatter, singing the tune correctly: "What are little girls made of? Sugar and spice and everything nice. That's how the tune goes." And he snaps his fingers.

"Ah, that's right!" Hatter says.

Further down the sign are the lyrics for the little boys version, and she reads along as Hatter and the Cat sing the words on the sign:

"What are little boys made of?

Slugs and snails and puppy dog tails!

That's what little boys are made of!"

Malice waves her hands frantically in the air. "Oi! Wait! Snips! Snips and snails! That's how we always sang it, right?"

The Cat says, "Yes, but the doggy tails bit is right. I mean to say, they'd never get a cat's tail."

"An alternate version," says Froud.

"I remember it as 'snips'," Hatter says.

Froud says, "And the jabberwocks have an even more alternative version."

Humpty says, "I remember it as 'snips' as well. But frankly, what is a 'snip' anyway?"

Hatter says, "A 'snip' is like a snap, but with quite a bit more of 'I' in it..." He points at his own chest.

Humpty looks at him. "What?"

The Cat shakes his floating head at Hatter, and says, "What are you on about?"

Hatter shrugs. "Just that snips are more personal than snaps. Because of the more 'I'."

Froud looks at him and says, "Ah, yes, you're definitely the mad one. Well, my good boy, the truth is that the word, 'snips' refers to little bits of odds and ends, such as what little boys might collect. But since many don't even understand the word, and 'snips' might not have even been in the original version anyhow, the Knight chose to go with 'slugs'—and also, it made it easier to create his challenge."

Humpty says, "You're speaking on his behalf," and he looks to and fro as if searching.

The Cat says, "Yes, where is the Knight, with all his shouting?"

Froud says, "He has retreated farther into the cave, where he awaits the Queen's decision."

Malice grunts. "So my choice is to go through mud and slugs, or go through clear water and pink pastries? I daresay, even the most masculine boy, if pressed, would choose the more frilly, pinkish alternative!" She whirls, grimacing in mock-ferociousness while poking her finger in Hatter's chest. "Wouldn't you?" poke. "Wouldn't you?!"

Hatter stammers. "I— I—er—I daresay, I probably would... If no one was watching."

Malice whirls on Humpty, points at him and squinches her eyes. "And you would go pink, wouldn't you?"

Humpty cringes back and fidgets. "Well, I must admit that I much prefer cake to slugs."

"Aha!" She's about to make her point, but the Cat interrupts her.

"I would certainly go through the water. My fur is too pretty to be covered by mud!"

Malice says, "Well that's good to know, but I didn't ask. And if your fur's so pretty, why do you ever only show your head?"

Hatter says, "Yeah, the Queen of Hearts is locked up—she can't try to behead you anymore."

"Nevertheless..." the Cat says.

Humpty says, "I think it's because it's easier for him to fly that way..."

Hatter scowls. "Yes, him and his flying and teleporting. Why, you could simply fly over the mud and pop onto the other side of that door if you want. Must be nice."

The Cat turns his nose up. "But I shan't ruin the surprise. Plus, I have my policy of non-interference."

"Which you routinely ignore," Malice mutters.

Froud clears his throat. "I must inform you, there is also fire...and glitter."

"What's that?" Humpty says.

"I beg your pardon?" Malice says.

Froud says, "Yes, the path on the left includes the Trials of Mud, Fire, and Slug. The path on the right is comprised of the Trials of Lavender, Glitter, and Cake."

"I don't see any fire," Hatter says.

"That's what the vase is for," Froud says. "To create a firewall."

Gasps all around.

"Not desirable!" Hatter shouts.

Froud waves his hand dismissively. "It won't burn you. On the other side, in the vase is a bunch of glitter for creating a glitter storm."

"Glitter storm?" Malice says.

Froud waves his hand dismissively. "Don't worry. That won't burn you either."

"You mentioned a Trial of Lavender?" Humpty says.

Froud points at the moat of water. "It's lavender water."

The Cat hisses.

Froud jumps at the sound, before composing himself. "Yes, well... So which path shall Her Highness choose?"

Malice says, "Well, what are behind the gates?"

Froud says, "That I can't tell you, but the Knight encourages you to choose the path most agreeable to your nature."

"Well, the whole set up is quite obvious. The one side is pink and girly, and I suppose this muddy side is meant to be macho and butch. I'm sure he is waiting on that side. It's a test, correct?"

Froud nods. "The Knight feels that surely, no little girl would be able to tolerate all the little boy things." He smirks. "But we all know the Knight is a bit daft. But know, if you choose the pink side, no harm shall come to you and there will be no shame in going for all those girly things. After all, you're still somewhat of a little girl, right?" He arches his brow.

Malice scowls. "No, I'm not. I do hope the Knight appreciates all the bother I'm putting myself through simply to provide him the honor of joining our team. But I shan't risk my life. That mud is icky and the fire could kill me, which would negate the purpose of him joining my team, since I'd be dead."

Froud says, "The fire is harmless—the non-hot kind that fake magicians use. The mud is...muddy, yes."

"Oh," Malice says. "And the slug is...ugh."

"Yes, and it's covered in slime. The Knight feels no little girl would be able to stand...um, standing upon it."

Malice can't help but smile, before saying, "But it's not real."

"Yes, well he was unable to procure an actual giant slug and snail for his challenge. But he felt even the representation of one would be enough to repel any little girl."

"But I'm a girl, and even though I'm not a little girl, perhaps I'd still be repelled by such grossness. Did he think of that?"

Froud shrugs. "It's the Knight's way of thinking," he says apologetically.

"And even a man would avoid such challenges. For example, a dapper gentleman would not wish to be drenched in mud."

Froud shrugs again. "Just be glad the Knight didn't base his challenge on the jabberwock version of the song."

Malice says, "Yes, you mentioned that before, and I should very much like to hear it. Would you be so kind as to sing it for me? And be sure to do a little dance as well..." She smirks.

"I shall certainly sing it for you, though my singing's atrocious. But I shan't dance, for my dancing's even worse."

"Oh, that's no fun," Malice says, and pouts. She looks to Hatter and Humpty for consolation. Hatter shrugs, and Humpty lifts his hands palms up in the air. The Cat, feeling ignored, swoops in front of her face, but she continues to ignore him, causing him to hiss.

Meanwhile, Froud takes a deep breath of preparation, and sings (quite off key):

"What are little jabberwock boys made of?

Fangs and nails, and little girls' entrails,

That's what little jabberwock boys are made of!"

"I say!" Hatter says, alarmed.

"Brilliant!" the Cat exclaims.

Froud continues singing:

"And what are little jabberwock girls made of?"

He stops his singing and looks around, fishing for a response.

"Praytell, what?" Malice shouts, obliging him.

Froud grins, and sings:

"Sugar and spice, and a throat-slitting slice!

That's what little jabberwock girls are made of!"

Hatter exclaims, "Crikey! Such violence!"

The Cat says, "I agree! How splendid!"

Humpty lets out a little whimper and presses his hand to his throat.

Malice shoots him a comforting smile, before placing her hand on her hip, and saying, "Well, I'm glad the challenges aren't based on the jabberwock version. But if they were, there'd still be cookies and cake, correct? Because of the sugar and spice bit."

"Most likely," Froud says.

Malice says, "But slug and snails are preferable to fangs and nails and entrails."

"Are they truly?" says the Cat.

Froud says to Malice, "Yes, so be glad you're a human, and not a jabberwock. So have you made your decision?"

Malice sighs. "The Knight thinks I'm too much of a little girl to make it through the little boys' side. So I shall simply have to prove him wrong. And he better appreciate what I'm putting myself through."

"I'm sure he shall," Froud says.

Humpty says, "Maybe it's not worth the bother, just to get the Knight to join. More trouble than it's worth."

But Malice doesn't acknowledge his words—she's staring at the mud, the icky mud.

"Malice?" prods Hatter.

Malice is still staring at that pool of murky, brown muck. "Let's do this. Enough chit chat and singing. It's time to get our hands and clothes dirty."

She stomps with determination into the left side, and says, "Let's enter this tunnel of masculinity and vanquish it. Come, come boys."

And they hasten to follow her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Malice stares down at the murky pool of mud at her feet.

Froud says, "Surely you must turn back now before it's too late! Surely no little girl would be able to tolerate getting so dingy and dirty, for they prefer to be dainty and clean and nice-smelling."

Malice scowls at him and says, "There are many who would love to frolic in mud. So quit your stereotyping."

Froud shrugs. "You don't have to convince me. But the Knight quite insisted that I deliver certain speeches before each obstacle, so I have an obligation."

"Whatever," Malice says. "Is it deep?" she says, referring to the mud.

"Don't worry," Froud says. "It's not deep enough to drown you, but just deep enough to get you quite muddy. Does the idea of getting so dirty repulse you?"

"I must admit, I don't relish the prospect. But it seems I have committed myself."

"It's not too late," Froud says.

Humpty says, "Yes, don't let the Knight impose on you to such a degree. It's quite rude if you ask me."

"It's only mud," the Cat mutters.

"And fire!" Hatter says, whilst pointing at the vase.

"Harmless fire," the Cat says, and Hatter crosses his arms and averts his gaze.

"Well..." Malice says, whilst tapping her chin, "these obstacles are specifically meant to challenge me specifically. If you two should wish to stay behind..."

Hatter's expression brightens. "Well..." he says, tentatively.

Malice scowls. "I say, if you wish to stay behind...cast aside such notions at once! If I should be forced to suffer these indignities, then surely shall you have to suffer along with me! And after all, it is merely a little mud and fake fire, so suck it up!... Righto?"

Hatter is looking down at the ground. "Righto," he says, defeatedly.

Malice looks at Humpty, and says, "And you?"

"Oh, I'm honored to suffer along with you," he says sarcastically.

"That's the spirit!" Malice shouts. "And you, Froud? Shall you join us in our splash?"

But Froud shakes his head. "That drawbridge shall lower once your lot have gone through. For you see, I'm your guide of sorts, I'm not meant to suffer everything alongside you, you see?"

"Quite," Malice says, with a crinkled nose.

Froud claps his hands together. "So, shall we commence the Trials of Mud, Fire, and Slug? Are you ready to wade in? Unless you're too much of a little girl, that is..."

"No need to goad me," Malice says as she looks down at the mud.

"I've been instructed to," Froud says.

"Poppycock. You're the therapist aren't you? You're in charge in your relationship."

"Nevertheless," Froud merely says, and it is clear he's waiting on her.

"It's quite dirty, isn't it?" Malice says, whilst biting her lip.

"Quite muddy, yes," the Cat says teasingly.

"So who shall go first?" Malice says.

The Cat says, "This obstacle course is all about you, so shouldn't it be you?"

Malice looks up at him and sticks her tongue out, causing him to snicker.

Hatter says, "I would go first, seeing as how I'm a gentleman, but I'm concerned that you'll back out and I'll be left in the mud, no offense, My Queen."

"Hrrmph," Malice says.

Humpty says, "Perhaps if we all jumped in at once..."

Malice nods. "Yes, like at a lake."

The Cat says, "I don't jump in water. I'm a cat."

"You don't do much," Malice says. She holds her hands out. "Come on, lads. We've tarried too long, already."

They take her hands, each standing on one side of her. She notices Hatter's hand is shaking. Humpty on the literal other hand, has a grim look of determination upon his face.

"I shall count down from three," Malice says.

Humpty nods.

Hatter mutters, "So dirty. My clothing..."

Malice says, "Just be grateful you aren't wearing what I have to. Now, let's go. 3..." She starts swinging her arms. "2... 1!"

They all shout as they unenthusiastically jump in.

They slosh into the mud, and their feet sink down about three feet before coming to rest upon a hard surface.

Above their heads, the Cat floats, cackling at them.

Malice feels the soppy lower part of her dress clinging to her legs. "Ahhh!" she cries.

Hatter joins in and moans along with her.

Humpty says, "There, it's not so bad, now, is it?"

Hatter proclaims, "Not so bad? It's atrocious! Utterly filthy. I'm only glad that my hat remains unmolested."

Humpty says, "There's the positive thinking, mate! At least our heads are above mud, right?"

Malice says, "And I'm almost glad to see the ugliness of this dress covered up somewhat. But I find this ickiness most unbecoming for a queen, so please allow me a moment to wallow in my misery."

"Wallow!" the Cat shouts, and laughs.

"Like wallow in mud?" Humpty says, catching on a few seconds too late.

Malice says, "That pun was intentional, of course. But let's make our way to the other side!"

Froud calls out, "It's still not too late to turn back."

"No!" Malice shouts. "I'm already filthy. Bring on the fire." She sloshes and wades forward, hoping she doesn't slip, and the two guys join her, placing a hand on each of her shoulders to steady her.

But she stops her stride as she feels it coming over her—that feeling she yearns for—she closes her eyes.

"Malice? Are you okay?" Hatter asks.

"I'm splendid," she says. She raises her arms. "I feel the black rose's inspiration rising within. It's like I'm drunk on darkness."

"Well, good on ya," Hatter says, sounding doubtful. "But let's get out of this mud, yeah, love?"

"We're already mucky," Malice says. "A few more moments won't hurt us. I wish to relay to you my poetic notions."

The Cat shouts, "Poetic notions. Splendid!"

Hatter mutters, "I suppose it's better than pathetic potions."

"Prepare to witness profundity," Malice says. She begins searching her mind, trying to grasp ideas in her racing, intoxicated mind.

She begins to shudder.

Hatter says, "I say, my girl, why are you shaking?"

"Are you alright?" Humpty says.

"It's the black rose," the Cat says.

"Yes," Malice says. Her eyes are still closed, she is focused on capturing the words, the poetry fleeting through her mind. "A lotus...mud...rising...like a little girl..."

"What's that, love?" Hatter says, sounding concerned.

"Perhaps it's not healthy for you to do this," Humpty says.

Malice's eyes pop open and she stares out with unfocused eyes. "It's okay, love. It's the poetry filling me. It's beautiful...so beautiful." Her eyes roll upward in her eye sockets, she arches her back. "I see it now. The journey..."

She proclaims:

"When the lotus grows, it first shall wade through mud,

Much like a boy who doth rebuke bath suds.

I am no boy, but now I'm a big girl,

Was once a bud but now I am unfurled.

For, like the lotus grows from mud, to sprout,

So too, the little girl grows up and out.

The lotus lifts from mud to sit higher,

And I'll leave the muck as well, to jump in fire."

Malice lowers her hands and head, and her eyes focus on the other side of the mud pit, and the vase beyond it. She wades forward through the mud.

"Hold on, wait for us!" Humpty cries, as the Cat says, "That was brilliant!"

"Thank you," Malice says. "Darlings..." She gives each of the guys a sweet smile. "Care to pluck me out from the muck? I'm afraid my dress is too bogged down to allow me to lift myself up whilst still maintaining my Queenly Grace."

Hatter says, "Certainly, My Queen, but I'm not confident I can get out from this muck with much grace, myself."

Humpty says, "Me neither. No, not much grace, though I wish to save face. Oh bother, Malice is much better at poetry than me. What else rhymes with grace?"

Hatter says, "Race? So you seek to challenge me in a race?"

"What? No. I—"

"Well you shall get what you're asking for, then. Begin!" He grasps the edge of the moat.

The Cat says, "And the loser must jump completely into the pool? None of this 'only partially covering yourself' tomfoolery."

"What? No!" Humpty says as he grasps the edge. "I was just rhyming!"

"Just a friendly contest. May the man who wins be best." Hatter grunts out as he struggles to lift his leg up over the edge.

"Best hurry, if you wish to win," Malice says to Humpty. "But as you do it, don't give in, to sin, or a jinn." She claps her hands. "Go, go, go."

"But what punishment does the loser receive?" the Cat says.

Malice watches as Humpty struggles to lift his leg up and over, as well. "The winner gets a kiss from me!" she proclaims.

"Phooey," the Cat says. "What use is that?"

The guys don't have time to respond as Humpty manages to get his legs up over the edge and slides along the ground to a victory.

Hatter has slipped back into the mud—he lets out a shout of frustration and defeat.

Humpty slides along the ground to face her, and through panting breaths, says, "What? I never agreed to a...kiss." He gulps and almost chokes as he says the word.

The Cat says, "Too late! You have to take it now!"

Humpty just throws him a huffy sound, without bothering to look up at him.

Hatter says to Humpty, "Give me a lift, mate?"

Froud shouts a bit too loudly, "A kiss? I'd be honored to receive the kiss in his stead. A small payment for all my help."

The fact that she'd momentarily forgotten about him, combined with the loudness of his utterance, causes Malice to startle. But she barely acknowledges his words, hoping he'll shut up, since she has absolutely no desire to kiss him.

She watches as Humpty holds Hatter's hands, helping to pull Hatter up.

"There you go," she encourages.

The Cat says to Froud, "Why on earth would she wish to kiss you? You smell like cigars!"

He's stirring up trouble again, Malice thinks, before shooting the Cat a glare.

Surprisingly, the Cat gives her a little nod of apology.

Humpty pulls Hatter up with a forceful yank, causing Hatter to flop onto his back as a result.

The two guys slide around a bit in their muddy state. It reminds Malice of fish out of water, and she giggles at the thought.

Hatter sits up and says, "Having a laugh, are you, love?"

Malice says, "It's just that I'm so utterly pleased to see you've gotten out of your muddy predicament."

Froud says, "My word, I don't understand why he would so rudely refuse your kiss. I daresay if you gave me the kiss instead, it would likely make the lad jealous, as he no doubt deserves to be!"

Malice ignores him, saying, "So now you two strong lads can help me up."

"Oh, I shall help, Your Highness!" Froud blurts. "Lower the drawbridge!"

The Knight's muffled shout calls out, "Timber!"

The ropes release and the small drawbridge slams down into the cave floor.

"Let's get you out of there," Hatter says to Malice as Froud scurries across the bridge.

"Yes, let's," Froud says. He tosses his cigar into the mud.

Humpty scowls. "We're the ones who had to wade through, so we're the ones who shall help her up."

"Yes," Hatter agrees. "Don't overexert yourself after running across that bridge, lad."

Humpty and Hatter both lower a hand for Malice to grab a hold of.

Meanwhile the Cat is teasing Froud, saying, "If you jump in the mud as well, it'll be a show of solidarity."

But Froud ignores the feline.

As Malice grabs a hold of Humpty's and Hatter's hand, Froud buzzes about like a gnat. "Let me help! Let me help!"

Malice says, "Unfortunately, I only have two hands, and not enough time to grow another!"

Hatter chuckles at that. "Brilliant!"

The Cat says to Froud, "Perhaps you should jump in the mud and help by pushing her!"

Froud sneers. "No I shall help pull..." He makes as if to grab Humpty around the waist, but backs off when he sees how muddy Humpty is.

The Cat laughs. "Scared of the mud! Perhaps you're the only little girl here."

Hatter rolls his eyes at Froud's behavior, now says to Malice, "Let's pull you up." He looks to Humpty, says, "Ready? Set? Go!"

Malice is pulled up and set upon the ground. The lower part of her dress is drenched with brown mud, and she almost slips and falls. "Oh!" she cries out as Humpty steadies her.

"Oh, thank you!" she says.

"You're welcome. Wouldn't want you to fall," he says.

Malice gives him a crooked grin. "Now for your prize..." she coos.

Humpty shakes his head. "No, no, that won't be necessary. Please. I never asked for that prize. Don't tease me."

Malice feels anger well up inside her. "Don't you want my kiss? Am I too muddy?"

"No, I—" he stammers, in that infuriatingly shy way of his.

Froud steps in between them, smiling in a creepy way. "In my expert opinion, the boy has a psychological complex that is inhibiting his behavior."

"Complex?" Humpty says with furrowed brow.

"What are you on about?" Malice says.

Froud says, "Without my advanced psychological knowledge, it'll be difficult for you to understand, but suffice it to say it shall prove very therapeutic for you to kiss me, and due to the nature of the treatment, it must be upon the lips."

"My word!" exclaims Hatter.

Froud takes a few steps toward Malice, making fish-like movements with his lips that can be described as "yearning for a kiss".

"What? No!" Malice exclaims, and fixes him with a glare that freezes him in place. She looks to Humpty. "I only want to kiss you on the cheek, to show you how grateful I am. Are you still mad at me? Is that it?" She tries to keep the hurt out of her voice, but doesn't succeed.

Humpty stammers, "No, not mad. It just...makes me uncomfortable."

Froud interrupts, "I assure you I meant nothing inappropriate. The kiss would be purely clinical and unexciting, merely meant to—"

Malice shoots him a glare.

"—to elicit a therapeutic response."

Malice huffs at him. To Humpty, she says, "You're just shy, darling. It's okay."

Humpty looks down at the ground and blushes.

And Hatter is saying to Froud, "Would me punching you in your scrunchy face be considered a therapeutic response?"

The Cat chuckles.

Malice ignores them, says to Humpty, "So someday, when you're not so shy, you would be receptive to me kissing you, yes?"

Humpty, while still looking down, says, "Perhaps. I apologize, but I find I get quite too nervous quite too often, My Queen."

"Quite," Malice says. "But I understand. You've been through a lot, you've literally been broken quite a few times. It's understandable that you're skittish. But I hope that with time, you'll accept my kiss. Do you think you can?"

Humpty blushes ever-the-more fiercely. "Yes. Someday. But not like this."

The Cat says, "Well I'm glad that's settled."

Froud says, "So let us proceed with the kiss therapy. It is important—"

"No," Malice says with a glare.

"—to do so immediately," Froud completes, and there is that creepy smile again upon his face.

"He's a duck," Hatter says.

Malice gazes at him for a moment in puzzlement. "Oh! As Hatter said, I suspect you may be a quack, Froud. I hope this little obstacle course doesn't turn out to be folly!"

The Cat licks his lips. "Fowly! That would be a duck. I'd fancy one right now."

Humpty is muttering, "Yes, I don't understand how a kiss can be so therapeutic. And therapeutic on whom?"

Froud says, "The effects of the black rose..." He hesitates, as if weighing his words.

"Yes, go on," Malice urges.

"Never mind. It's over your head—you wouldn't understand."

"Do you fancy duck?" the Cat says to Hatter.

Malice says to Froud, "Well, then I shall go on not understanding, because I'm not going to kiss you. And that's that."

Hatter, who has been speaking to the Cat, is saying, "...with a nice side pudding is best."

The Cat makes a face. "Pudding? Bleh! Blood pudding perhaps."

Malice groans. "Are you two done? I'd like to get on with our miniquest now." She lifts her hands up in the air. "For I have risen from the mud like the lotus, and shall now face the challenge of the flame!"

"Oh dear," Humpty says.

"I agree," says Hatter. "Flame can be quite hot."

Froud lifts his pointing finger up in the air. "Not this one. The challenge of the flame is purely illusory." He walks ahead toward the vase resting on the ground.

"Illusory?" Humpty echoes, as Malice exchanges glances of puzzlement with the others.

Froud says, "Quite." He reaches into the vase and pulls out a handful of grayish, grainy powder, with bits of silvery specks in it. "This is a special chemical mix, that when combined with the other chemicals that have been painted on the ground, create a type of flame that is only mildly warm." He tosses the powder onto the cave floor behind the vase, and a wall of crackling fire rises up in front of them.

Malice shields her eyes.

"Brilliant!" the Cat shouts. "Literally!"

"Whoa!" Humpty says.

Hatter says, "Well it's rather convincing, isn't it?"

"It's quite harmless, as long as you're not carrying gunpowder or something highly flammable." He sticks his hand into the wall of flame. "See?"

Malice realizes she's not experiencing the hot wind that would be flowing from a typical flame. "So why is it a challenge, then?"

Froud lowers his hand. "Again, I must state that the Knight insisted that I give you this upcoming fanciful speech." He sighs. "Witness the trial of fire! This is a psychological trial, but that is often the most vexing kind of them all, for though these flames shall produce no physical harm, the very image of the flames would deter any little girl from entering them."

Malice places her hand upon her hip. "And, praytell, why is that?"

"Because no little girl would be able to control the overwhelming fear of being burned alive. For, though she may tell herself over and over again that it's not real, little girls are weak, immature. And so they shall run away while screaming like, well... little girls. It is inevitable."

"I see," Malice says. "But wouldn't little boys do exactly the same?"

"Absolutely," Hatter says. "I know I would've, when I was little."

Froud continues, "If there is even a remnant of that past little girl left inside you, she shall cause you to flee in terror." Out of the side of his mouth, he says, "At least, that's the Knight's theory."

The Cat says, "Interesting theory, that one. I'm just glad I can float above the flame." He looks up, where there is a space of about seven feet between the tops of the flames and the roof of the cave.

Froud, ignoring the Cat, gestures with his hand and proclaims, "And so I present you with your second anti-little-girl challenge! The illusory wall of mildly-warm flame!"

"Is it truly not-hot?" Humpty says.

Froud shrugs. "You need only approach and feel for yourself." He fixes Malice with a withering glare. "Unless you have a little girl within, who is too afraid!"

But Malice doesn't meet his eyes, she's staring with unfocused eyes into the flames. She murmurs, "Phoenix...flame...rising..."

"I beg your pardon?" Froud says.

She answers, "The flame rises, much like the inspiration of the black rose rises within my soul. I feel the words...licking like tendrils...a continuation of the poem..."

"Wonderful," the Cat says. "Let's hear it then..."

Malice nods slightly, takes a deep breath.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Malice proclaims:

"Just like the lotus emerges from mud, so dire,

The phoenix arises from the ashes of fire.

It hatches, already fully mature,

Like me, who's a big girl now, truly and pure.

But just as the phoenix grows from red flames,

Big girls grow from little girls, with all their pink games."

Malice's mouth draws shut. Her mouth forms into a tight thin line.

"My Queen?" Hatter says.

"Is she asleep?" says the Cat. "A coma, perhaps? But her eyes are open. Perhaps—"

Malice rolls her eyes. "It is done. Part two of the Poem of Mud, Fire, and Slug. The inspiration of the black rose has subsided."

Humpty says, "When shall we get to hear the third part?"

Malice turns to look at him, says, "Why, little boy—"

"Don't call me that," he snaps.

"My apologies, young one, it's just that I'm such a big girl, that we seem so far apart."

"Rubbish," Humpty says. "I'm older than you."

"Oh, righto. Well, as to the third part of the poem, I imagine, young man, that it shall come once we have passed through the trial of flame." She shrugs. "But I am at the whimsy and mercy of the black rose's inspiration. I'm merely a vessel, my dear, young Humpty."

Humpty groans. "Okay okay, very well. Let's go through the flames, then. We've come this far."

In alarm, Hatter says, "The heat shall bake this mud in! Oh, how shall I ever get my trousers clean again! My trousers! My trousers." He's walking in a little circle, gesturing wildly in the air in his dismay.

Froud says, "No, no, my charmingly mad man, as I've explained, the flame is only mildly warm, and you'd only be exposed to it briefly until you reach the other side. After that..." He points above the flames to the cloth hanging from the cave ceiling. "...that waterproof cloth holds a bunch of water that shall be used to extinguish the flames."

Hatter stops his frantic circle-making and looks up. "But the flame shall be doused only after we suffer the inconvenience of passing through it."

"Correct," Froud says.

Malice says, "So that you may be able to pass through unmolested by flame?"

"Yes," Froud says, "for I am your guide—I'm not meant to go through the challenges myself."

"How pleasant for you," Malice says with a snarl.

"Leisurely, I should say," says the Cat.

Humpty says, "But it shan't be without risks for him. What if he slips on the wet rock once the flames are doused?"

"Ha! Ha!" Hatter says. "Then the bards shall sing songs in praise of his courage and sacrifice."

Froud makes a clicky sound with his tongue. "Yes, well the fact of the matter is that these challenges are meant for Her Highness...and loyal companions. And so, the next challenge awaits." He waves his hand toward the roaring wall of flame.

"Tally-ho, lads!" Malice says as she steps up to just the edge of the flames.

Humpty and Hatter stand on either side of her.

Hatter stares with a fearful expression at the flames before having to look down from the brightness. "They look so authentic."

Humpty sticks his hand into the fire. "But Froud was right. Barely even warm."

Malice sticks her hand in as well to find that's indeed the case.

The Cat, who is floating above the flames, calls down, "Yes I feel no hot updraft like I would from a real fire."

Malice calls up, "It must be nice to be able to fly above like that."

The Cat says, "Well, I have a non-interference policy, in case you forgot."

"You won't let us!" Malice calls up. "But enough of that confounded Cat. Let's go." She looks at Hatter on her left and Humpty on the right. Both lads look hesitant.

Malice is feeling a bit scared herself, but summons up her courage.

"It's so bright," Humpty says. "What if we lose our way?"

"Just keep your eyes closed and walk in a straight line. Here...both of you take my hand, so nobody walks astray... Good! Now let me give you each a kiss upon your cheek in gratitude for accompanying me."

"But—" Humpty sputters.

Malice says, "Please. It will only be a kiss upon the cheek. It won't be so bad. Wouldn't that be okay?"

Humpty tries to say something, but gets choked up. He nods meekly.

Froud says, "You wished me to go through as well. I'd do it if I could receive a kiss also."

"What?" She glares at him. "Perhaps I'll kiss your head after I've ordered it removed from your shoulders."

She quickly turns her head to face Hatter while offering him the sweetest of smiles.

And Froud quietly says, "You wouldn't do that."

Malice says to Hatter, "And what of you, love? You're such a good friend and I don't want you to be mad at me. Please allow me to give you a peck on the cheek."

Hatter nods, says, "It would be my honor."

And Malice is elated that he's coming around, not so angry at her anymore.

Malice glances at Froud, sees that he's about to say something most likely irritating, and glares at him.

Froud remains quiet.

She says, "Well, then, my two brave men by my side, I am grateful for your loyalty and companionship. I shall give you each a kiss for good fortune before we set out through the wall of flame."

Froud mutters, "Not a kiss upon the lips, I should hope."

"Of course not," Malice says. "Not that it's any of your concern."

"However—" Froud starts but Malice huffs and turns away, cutting him off.

She says, "Now, you shall have to scrunch down for me to bestow my kisses. Humpty first..."

Humpty bends his knees and lowers himself. He trembles slightly, but Malice chooses not to mention it.

She kisses him upon the cheek as chastely as she can manage.

Even so, Humpty is blushing as he straightens up again.

Malice turns her head. "And you, my brave madman."

Hatter merely grins slightly, nods, and crouches down.

Malice kisses his cheek, says, "There! That's for good luck!"

"Ah!" Hatter exclaims. "So your kiss is like a toast." His face takes on a serious expression. "I don't mean the bready kind."

"I know what kind you mean," Malice assures.

Froud clears his throat. "Well since I shan't receive a royal send-off kiss, I shall stand on the sidelines and watch you either succeed, or run screaming from the flames. Now don't dilly-dally, you three. Let's get on with it. Tally-ho, and all that."

All three of them cast a scowl at Froud.

"Let's," Malice says with a sneer. "Come on, lads." She grabs their hands and swings them. "On the count of three," she says.

They count down, then step into the flame.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Malice's eyes clamp shut and she focuses on the comfort offered by the two hands she's holding.

She lets out a little wavering moan of fear.

The roar of the flame is loud within her ears.

Hatter shouts over it, "Fear not, My Queen, for we shall extinguish this flame and be victorious!"

Malice would roll her eyes if they weren't closed. "We shan't!" she says in a half-chastising, half-fearful tone.

"What's that?" Hatter says.

Humpty explains, "We're not meant to put out, merely walk through."

"Oh, yes!" Hatter says. "Just keep your eyes closed and it shall be a piece of cake!"

They continue stepping forward, while tapping out with their feet so they don't fall.

Malice can feel the flame's mild warmth tickling her skin. She fights back the urge to panic, reminding herself the gentle flame can't harm her.

"That's it," Humpty says. "Steady as she goes, and we'll soon be through."

Hatter shouts out, "Cake? Where?!" He lets out a scream and pulls his hand away from Malice's.

Hatter is screaming more.

Malice shouts, "Hatter, what's going on?"

"I wanted to see the piece of cake, so I opened my eyes. Now all this flame has filled me with terror!"

Malice groans. "There is no cake, Hatty. That was a figure of speech that you yourself used!"

In a high-pitched voice, Hatter squeals, "But I remember seeing cake quite recently!"

Humpty says, "That was the little girl's side of the caves, the other side."

But Hatter is shrieking in terror again. "Oh, now that I gaze upon the flame, I can't handle this! I'm turning back! I apologize."

"Oh no you don't, Hatty! You're almost through! You're going through even if I have to drag you!" She opens her eyes. Her vision is filled with the blaring red of tall flickering flame. She fights down the urge to panic.

Hatter has already lost that battle—she can hear his screams over the roar of the flames.

She says, "Humpty! Open your eyes so we can help Hatty!" She looks to Humpty—it's hard for her to make out in the brightness, but she sees his eyes open and squint.

To her left, Malice sees Hatter spinning in circles amidst flame rippling around his body. He's waving his arms frantically in the air.

To Humpty, Malice says, "I'll push. You pull."

Humpty nods, and they make their way toward the panicked Hatter.

Malice stomps her foot. "Hatty! Stop that spinning this instant!"

Hatter stops and squints down at her. "This fire is driving me mad! I've got to go!"

Malice shouts, "No! The best way out, is through!" And she points toward the slug and snail side.

But Hatter looks toward the opposite side, where the mud is. "No! The fire will burn the cake! Must go! Must go!" And he starts running back toward the mud pool.

Malice runs and slams into him, wrapping her arms around his waist, tackling him to the ground.

They land roughly on the hard cave floor that's coated with the gritty chemicals that fuel the flame.

Hatter is in a full-blown panic, trying desperately to crawl toward the wrong side of the flames. He almost gets away from Malice, but she latches onto his calf, keeping him from going too far, at least for a little while, and she calls out, "Humpty! Help!"

Humpty stands in front of Hatter, calls down to him, "You're going the wrong way!"

"Lift him up!" Malice calls, and Humpty grabs under Hatter's arms and pulls him to his feet. Now Humpty says, "There you are, mate. Get yourself together."

Malice watches from behind as Hatter slaps his hands to the sides of his face. She can imagine the horrified expression on his face as he shouts out, "But I'm terrified. It's driving me mad! And I want cake! I can't stop myself!"

Malice takes his words as her cue to jump in and take action, so, "Hey!" she shouts as she puts her hands to each side of his waist from behind. "We're gonna help you!"

She spins him around to face her.

And now she can see the horrified expression on his face, as he says, "I tried! My mind, body...won't obey. Flames making me crazy! Sorry!"

"Enough of this dawdling around," Malice says, "We're going that way," she gestures over her shoulder. "We'll drag you if we have to. Of course, I'd prefer you cooperate."

"I'll try," Hatter says with a firm expression.

Malice gives a single nod. She says to Humpty, "Change of plans. I'll pull and you push, if it comes to that." She tugs on Hatter's arm, says, "Now come on, you daft bloke, only a few more feet to go."

Hatter nods, takes a few steps before stopping and wincing. He shouts out, "No, I must whirl! The cake will burn if I don't whirl!"

"Not the cake, again," Malice mutters. She jostles Hatter, shouts, "Snap out of it."

"I can't," Hatter shouts, horrified. "Must whirl."

"No reasoning with this one," Malice mutters. Before he starts whirling (which would prove to be a major inconvenience) she gives Humpty a look. Now she pulls on Hatter's arm as she shouts, "Push!"

And Humpty pushes on Hatter's back.

Hatter is sent stumbling forward—it looks as if he's running, and he smashes into Malice who lets out a yelp and now she is stumbling backwards, at risk of losing her balance.

And they stumble out of the fire.

Malice finally trips on her own foot and falls on her back upon the cave floor—Hatter lands on top of her with an "Oof!"

Malice looks around to get her bearings. Her face is very close to Hatty's. Why, she could kiss him upon the mouth, if she wished. She sees Humpty's shoes step to the side of her.

Hatter is looking around. "What? We're out?" He looks down at Malice's face—she can feel his warm breath upon her lips. His body and arms feel like he is embracing her.

Hatter seems embarrassed by their positioning, if Malice is reading his expression correctly. "My apologies," he says softly. "I lost my head for a bit..."

Why is he speaking in that manner—so softly, so tenderly? Is that what his romantic voice would sound like?

"...not literally," Hatter explains. "I mean, I didn't lose my head like the Headless Horseman. I mean, I went a bit mad for a wee bit. But I'm through now, thanks to you."

Malice says, "I'm just glad that you're still with us, with me...on top of me...face to face..." She looks in his eyes.

Hatter is blinking rapidly. "What is it?"

Without stopping to think about it, she leans up and gives him a quick kiss upon the lips. She giggles.

Hatter looks offended for an instant, but now he smiles. "Naughty girl."

Malice says, "I couldn't help myself. They were right there." She means his lips.

"Righto," Hatter says. "Consider that your reward for helping me. Now that the debt is paid, let's get out of this undignified position. There are children present."

"Har, har, har," Humpty says sarcastically.

Malice sits upright. She looks over to see Hatter on his knees, touching his lips with his fingertips.

"What is it?" she says.

"My lips. They feel all tingly."

Malice is about to say, "That shows you how powerful my kisses are," but she doesn't have a chance, because water pours down from the cave roof, filling the cave with the sounds of splashing followed by sizzling. The flames die down and vanish within seconds.

Froud stands where they had left him behind. "Congratulations! You have passed the trial of the flame. It's stronger proof that you may not have any remnants of little girl left inside of you."

Froud's words set off a surge of the black rose's inspiration within Malice. "Now..." she says. She stands proudly, her eyes staring vacantly into the distance.

She proclaims:

There is no longer any little girl inside,

For, if there was, she'd've cowered and cried.

For the trial of mud, and trial of flame,

Would've caused her to flee, in terror and shame!

Malice takes a breath. She can feel more poetry coming on, but she doesn't know what the words shall be.

Behind her, Hatter shouts, "I feel it. The inspiration."

"What?" Humpty says.

Malice turns to Hatter and says, "Inspiration?"

"Yes," Hatter says. "The inspiration of the black rose. I recognize the feeling from before. Oh, and now I realize I interrupted your poem with my utterance. My profuse apologies."

Before Malice can respond, Froud lets forth a loud groan of annoyance. "You kissed him?!"

"What business is it of yours?" she says to Froud. But now she turns her attention back to Hatty. He's not usually a very poetic bloke and she wants to encourage him to be more so in the future. "No need to apologize, love. Let's take advantage of the situation. Would you do me the honor of reciting some verse, if you feel comfortable..."

"The honor would be mine. I'd be delighted to follow your enchanting words."

Froud huffs and crosses his arms. He mutters, "Of course he'd be."

Hatter and Humpty glance briefly at Froud, but offer no response. Malice doesn't even bother to glance at Froud as she gives an encouraging look to dear Hatty. "Go on then, love," she says.

"Froud's jealous," the Cat says, but no one acknowledges him. The Cat makes a hissy sound, as if irritated by being ignored.

Hatter's eyes go into the distant stare Malice goes into when the inspiration hits and now she sees what it looks like from the outside.

Hatter raises his arm, slowly, and while holding it toward Malice, proclaims:

And so, like the phoenix can only arise from flame and devastation,

Here stands a big girl, a most glorious creation!

Hatter bows, and Malice claps, and shouts, "Bravo!" She stares at Humpty until he reluctantly begins clapping as well.

Hatter gestures with his hands towards Malice and says, "But I am nothing in comparison to you, love."

Malice curtsies. "Thank you. We are both magnificent!"

"So the slug's next?" the Cat says.

"I should imagine so," Malice says. As she looks at Froud, she's reminded. "Wait! How did you know I kissed him? You couldn't have possibly seen through the flames."

Froud's posture straightens up—he clears his throat. "I see the time has come for me to come clean. In ancient tomes, I have read about what is known as the Black Rose Kiss."

Malice pretends to think upon that for a moment. "When I kissed you, I must have imparted some of the black rose onto you, Hatty!"

Hatter snaps his fingers. "That explains my inspiration!" he says, playing along.

Froud says, "I came across a description of the phenomenon during my studies. The kiss must be upon the lips."

"Ah," Malice says. "What an intimate and potentially awkward technique. But in this case it was a pleasure, since Hatty and I are such close friends."

Hatter is nodding his head quite rapidly. "Yes, yes, such good friends, and nothing more!" He touches his lips. "Still tingling."

Froud says, "So when Hatter began talking about the poetic inspiration of the black rose, I figured that you must have kissed him."

Malice says, "And you kept trying to get me to kiss you! You want to feel the effects!"

Froud says, "Because that way, I can better guide your therapy."

Malice resists the urge to roll her eyes. "How so?"

Froud sniffs. "It's above your level of comprehension. But I am an expert, so—"

"Are you sure you don't just wish to experience its intoxication?" Malice asks.

Froud huffs. "What? No, I— The state it induces is akin to madness and I should like to study it by experiencing it myself. I wish to learn from it, not to take pleasure in it."

"Uh huh," Malice says doubtfully.

"I shall prove it," Froud says. "Kiss me...chastely, and I shall help you with your psychological woes."

Malice wrinkles her nose. "Eww. I am not kissing you."

"There would be absolutely nothing romantic about it, I assure you."

"Ugh. No! Where did you even find out about the Black Rose Kiss, anyway? No one I've talked to knows very much about it!"

"It's a subject that interests me. My studies in psychological matters are why I know it's so imperative that you kiss me."

Malice doesn't think Froud is making very much sense. She groans. "Crikey, you don't stop, do you? Now what else do you know about the black rose and its effects?"

"I won't tell you unless you—"

"I shan't kiss you. So I suppose you shan't tell?"

"Off with his head!" the Cat calls from above.

"No, no," Malice says. "We'll have none of that. I'm not like the Queen of Hearts. I'm more benevolent, more...tolerant."

Froud says, "Then you shall have to tolerate your lack of knowledge, due to being such a prude."

Hatter gasps. "Prude?! I assure you, sir, Queen Malice is most definitely not a prude." He sees the look she gives him. "I mean to say, she's not prudish, she's chaste. I mean to say..."

"I'm not a nun," Malice says in a huffy voice.

"I didn't mean to imply you were," says Hatter. "Oh, dash it all! I'm sure I could reason with the good doctor here, in a most convincing manner." He scowls, and looks menacing, causing Froud to flinch.

Malice puts up a calming hand. "No, we shall not resort to such coercive means, either. I do still have a heart, albeit, a medicated one. Let's just move on to the next challenge." She points at it, and stares.

In front of the solid metal gate, on the left, rests a badly-rendered replica of a giant slug—to the right of it is a giant snail. Both glisten with a slimey sort of substance coating them.

Froud intones: "That is your next challenge: the challenge of the slug and snail. In order to—"

Malice raises a finger. "Hold on. I'm feeling inspired to wax poetic...."

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Froud nods, but mutters something under his breath that Malice can't quite make out. If she didn't know better she would've sworn he'd muttered, "Show off."

She stares at the slug and snail, getting inspired by their sight, feeling the black rose flowing through her veins. She whispers, "Oh Black Rose, give your poetry unto me..."

And now she feels the words come up through her body and out through her lips.

And so she proclaims:

"A slug is like a little girl, who's traveling,

Within a world that seems unraveling.

But just like the naked slug shall grow a shell,

The little girl will wise up as well."

Something about what Malice said causes Humpty to blurt out, "I don't think that's—"

But Malice ignores him, continuing:

"She grows thick skin, just like the shells on slugs,

And her shell fends off hurt, and patronizing hugs.

And there, within her cold-but-safe shell she'll stay,

As she yearns to be vulnerable once again one day."

Malice stares at her feet, while wallowing in her dark thoughts.

Meekly, Humpty says, "I really don't think slugs grow shells. Slugs and snails are different species."

Malice barely pays any attention to him. "Such sweet melancholy," she whispers in wonder, while still looking at the ground.

"Are you an expert?" the Cat calls down to Humpty.

"No, of course not," Humpty says. "And I mean no offense." He murmurs, "It's just not factual, is all."

Hatter says, "Perhaps she was being metaphorical. I fancy a good metaphor. In fact, she has inspired me!" He looks at Malice. "Are you alright, love?"

Malice says, "Just wondering if I am perhaps like a snail who's pulled its head and tail inside its shell, and if I shall ever come out again."

"Like a turtle," Humpty says.

Malice says, "So now I'm a turtle. Perhaps I should snap at you." And she clacks her teeth, causing Humpty to startle.

"Perhaps," says Hatter, "she was being poetic. As a fellow poet, I can relate."

Malice says, "You said that you were inspired. Could you possible recite some poetry to mark the occasion?"

"The pleasure would be mine, milady. I mean, My Queen." He bows. While he's still bowing, he sweeps his arm to point toward Malice, and as he rises back up, he proclaims:

"And so the next full trial is shown,

To Malice, a slug who shall become a snail,

She'll show the world she's fully grown,

And will rebuke false hugs with her big-girl shell.

She rebukes the mud, fire, and soon, slime!

And will be the greatest snail of all time!

"That's a lot of rebuking," snides the Cat.

Hatter places his hand beside his mouth and stage-whispers, "Metaphor."

Malice claps softly. "What a lovely poem. And in keeping with the metaphor, I shall defeat this challenge and become a snail with the most marvelous, hardest, biggest shell!"

Hatter looks at her and says quite earnestly, "Do you mean that literally or metaphorically?"

Froud mutters, "He can only make such poems because of the Black Rose Kiss. But what has he done to deserve the divine— Oh, never mind. So you're going to tackle the challenge of the slug and snail, are ya?"

"Yes," Malice says. "What does that entail? And what was that you were saying about the divine whatnot?"

"What?" Froud says, and thinks for a bit. "Oh, I meant what has Hatter done to deserve your loyalty? He's lucky. But enough of that. I shall now explain the challenge of the slug and snail to you."

"You were speaking of 'divine loyalty'?" Malice says. "That doesn't sound right..."

"Never you mind that," Froud says. "For the next challenge, you must climb atop the slug and the snail, then acquire the object that's resting atop the gate. Then, once you use the object according to instruction, the Knight will open the gate."

Malice looks at the slug and snail. Now she understands why they're next to each other. The slug is less tall than the snail—she'll have to climb the slug first so that she can reach the top of the snail—only by standing on the snail's head will she be able to reach the top of the gate. "I'm not looking forward to doing that. Must it be me?"

"I'll do it," says Humpty.

The Cat says, "I could do it, but I can't interfere."

Froud says, "I'm afraid it must be the Queen. You see, the Knight believes that no little girl would be able to stand having to put her hands on the creepy, slimy slug and snail. Unlike a little boy, who might relish the idea, a little girl wouldn't be able to do it, even knowing the gastropods aren't real."

"The what?" Malice says.

"Scientific name for slugs and snails," Hatter says.

She looks at him in amazement and says, "How did you know that?" as Froud continues, "And the Knight further believes that anyone who still has even a little bit of little girl inside her won't be able to go through with it."

Malice stares at the ugly amateur portrayals of slug and snail, covered in their icky slime, and she feels like even a grown adult woman wouldn't want to climb those horrendous things. She looks at Hatty and Humpty to gauge their reactions. They're both looking at the slug and snail as well, and both the lads bear troubled, close-to-wincing expressions. Humpty's shoulders are scrunched particularly high, she notices.

Even a bloke is likely not to want to get up on those things.

She crinkles her nose and takes a deep breath. "Well I question the contention that big girls and boys wouldn't be repulsed by the slimy slug and snail, as well."

The Cat interrupts, "Try saying that three times in a row!"

"Nevertheless," Malice continues, "I've come this far, and despite my better judgment, I'm determined to prove myself. So what's the object atop the wall, then?"

Froud says, "You shall have to climb the snail to see."

"Didn't think you'd tell me. Well...tally-ho..."

"Tally-ho!" Hatter shouts.

It takes Malice a few moments to steel herself. She hops up on top of the slug's tail and pulls herself up. "Yuck!" she exclaims. "This little sluggy is all slimy. What is this?" She stares at the clear gooeyness on her hands.

Froud says, "Don't worry. It's harmless. It's actually used in a recipe for food, so you could even eat it if you want."

"Eww! I shall decline! I'm just glad I'm wearing this ugly dress, rather than my good one." She rises to her feet. "A bit slippery up here, but I'm sure I can manage. Nope, no little girl am I." She steps forward toward the slug's head, which is a little bit higher than its back. She climbs atop it. "There we are. Now I'll climb atop the shell, then the snail's head, and bob's-your-uncle, I'll be able to reach the object and see what all the fuss is about."

The Cat's floating head hovers next to her. "Take care not to fall, Queeny. I should hate to see you die before your grand adventure has even begun."

"Your concern is duly noted, and excellent advice, as always," she says sarcastically.

She climbs atop the snail shell...and the snail head. "Now let's see what we've got here."

She and the Cat look at the same time.

Malice exclaims, "It's a tail! Like the rhyme. Slugs and snails and puppy dog tails!" Resting on the wall top is a fake dog tail, made of papier-mache, and sloppily painted—it's also labeled with the words: Puppy dog tail. A metal hook is connected by a short chain to the base of the tail, and a card rests next to it, printed with the words: Don me.

The Cat hisses, and mutters, "A canine's tail."

Froud says, "A crude representation of one. Why, does it repulse you? Perhaps you have a bit of little girl in you?"

"No, I'm all pussy cat, I assure you. So I detest the disgusting tails of disgusting dogs."

Malice says, "Alas, if I don this tail, it shall offend my dear Cat. So, finally, there is something I can look forward to!" She sticks her tongue out playfully, picks the tail up and presents it to those on the ground. "Shall I try it on?"

Froud calls up, "Well, it represents what little boys are made of, so if you think the little girl within you won't be able to bear it, nobody shall judge you."

Malice groans. "I think the Knight's whole notion of what a little girl can handle is quite silly, but I shan't argue about it this late in the game. Here, love, catch." She tosses the tail down to Humpty.

When she's back on the ground, she looks at Froud with irritation on her face, and says, "Now I suppose you expect me to put that ugly thing on?"

Froud raises his hands defensively. "Not me, My Queen. The Knight. He believes that if you are capable of donning the tail—"

Malice raises her hand to silence him. "Yes. Yes. It'll mean I haven't got any little girl left in me. This is getting tedious. Look here, I shall simply do it." She twists and fidgets some and hooks the tail. "There we are! Got it on the second go!"

Hatter looks around. "Hey! Where did Malice go? All I see is a little doggy!"

Malice giggles. She barks and growls while hopping around. She looks up at the Cat and barks ferociously.

The Cat says, "You're lucky I can see through your...disguise."

"That's a nice doggy," Humpty says and pats her on the head, which causes everyone to burst into laughter.

"How are you faring!" the Knight shouts out. His voice sounds muffled—she looks in the direction of his yell—he seems to be peering at her through a slight gap in the seam down the center of the gate.

"If you're referring to the tail, I'm doing fine, but I've put up with quite a bit of nuisance. Can we talk now?"

"It would be my honor, My Queen." The gate slowly swings open with the sounds of creaky hinges and clanking chains.

Malice gasps as she sees the Knight standing in front of them, wearing a pink frilly dress over his usual black armor.

"Hey!" Malice shouts, with her hand on her hip. "How come you get to wear the pretty dress!"

But the Knight only shouts out, "Come again?" for he can't hear over all the noise from the gate. Now Malice sees that behind the Knight is a grouping of furniture inside a cave chamber. She sees a black leather couch, a coffee table, an ottoman, and armchair. Off to the left sits a wooden rack loaded with axes, swords, and at least one mace.

But now the gate is fully open and quiet, so Malice repeats, "How come you get to wear the pretty dress, when I have to wear the ugly one?"

The Knight seems embarrassed as he answers, "It's part of the therapeutic treatment Froud prescribed me."

Everyone looks to Froud, who says, "Desensitization treatment. By actually clothing himself in the symbol of what he fears, he shall gradually become more used to it."

"Oh yes. Very good," Malice says, even though she doesn't really understand him much at all. She looks to the Knight, who seems to be avoiding her eyes. Oh well, at least he's not covering them with his hands anymore. "I do hope you're not going to wear that dress on our adventure, though. Proud Knight, we've come to ask you to go on a quest with us!"

The Knight beams. "I am honored to be invited! You successfully endured all those things that exemplify the very essence of little boys." He sings:

"What are little boys made of?

Why...

Fire and mud, and nasty sorts of crud,

And slugs and snails and puppy dog tails!

That's what little boys are made of!"

Malice giggles and sings:

"What are noble knights made of?

Steel that clinks, not dresses of pink!

That's not what fearsome knights are made of!"

The Knight's mouth frowns beneath his majestic mustache. "Clever rhyming. But I assure you, my dress is only temporary, as is yours. I am glad you have passed the tests that rebuke little girls. I apologize that I am not yet rid of my fear of them."

"Yes," Malice says. "I have made mincemeat of all your little tests, including the trial of the tail. Ooh! And now I must spout poetry!

"I have no little girl inside.

If there ever was, she's set sail!

For I didn't shriek and run and hide,

Through mud, fire, slug and now, tail!"

She turns around and shakes her rear. The tail doesn't wag like she'd imagined, but it does slide from side to side on the fabric somewhat. She turns back around. "There! Now that I've proved I'm not a little girl, will you accompany us on our grand quest for the Jabberwock?"

The Knight slaps his hands together in delight. "Well I do so adore quests!"

Froud clears his throat theatrically. "My good Knight, might I have a brief word with you in private?"

The Knight looks at him, and says, "Eh?"

"It's concerning your therapy." Now Froud addresses Malice and the others. "My apologies, My Queen. I must discuss something with my patient."

"Well, what is it concerning?" Malice says.

"I'm afraid it's confidential."

"Oh!" Malice says, "Well I shall assume you intend to help him with his phobia issue so that he can attend our quest. And so I grant you permission. But don't dally too long."

A brief sneer forms on Froud's face, before vanishing. Malice assumes it's because he doesn't like being bossed around, which is understandable, but she is the Queen after all, and he shall obey her, or else.

Froud bows and says, "Of course Your Majesty. It shall be my pleasure to aid you, Your Highness. I shan't be long, My Queen."

Malice thinks he might be mocking her, but doesn't comment as he and the Knight step off a distance away and whisper amongst themselves.

Humpty does some whispering of his own. "I do hope those two don't take too long. This whole confounded mess has gone on quite too long already."

Malice gnaws her lip. "Yes. I've been most put upon. I daresay I'm considering calling the whole thing off out of spite."

Hatter says, "Well I for one can't wait to see you out of that dress, and most definitely without that tail. It makes you look absolutely beastly! Literally!"

Malice arches her brow at him. "You cad! You wish to see me out of this dress, do ya?"

"I didn't mean it that way!"

"What way?" Malice says, feigning innocence.

Hatter is flustered and blushing slightly. "You're being highly inappropriate. And I don't know what way you mean, for it didn't occur to me. I mean, it wouldn't have. I mean— Oh confound it!"

"You seem confused," Malice says with a smirk.

Hatter says, "I meant I want to see you, not in that blastedly ugly dress, but in your usual black dress, that's not overly poofy and not overly slim, but is at—oh, what's the phrase I'm looking for?"

"The just-right level of poofiness?" Humpty suggests.

"Quite," Hatter says with a nod.

Malice says, "I should very much like my dress back on me as well. Oh, look, our friends are done tongue-wagging with each other."

CHAPTER THIRTY

The Knight and Froud approach Malice and her group.

Froud says, "I needed to assess my patient's current mental state. He has a strong desire to join you on your quest."

"Splendid!" Malice says. "Now I can shuck this dowdy abomination of a dress!"

"However..." Froud says.

"Oh, no no no! No howevering!"

The Knight says, "My apologies, My Queen. I'm very honored to be invited on your Most Glorious Quest, but my good therapist feels I'm not quite ready to be around you without a wee bit of help."

"Yes," Froud says. "I've devised a therapeutic aid to ease his symptoms, until he's used to being around you."

"What?" Malice shrieks, stomping her foot. "I passed all the trials! I proved I no longer have any little girl inside me! This is really getting quite ridiculous!"

Froud says, "I know it shall be a bit of an inconvenience, but it shall only be temporary, I assure you...to ease my patient's transition."

Malice cocks her head to the side. "Transition?"

"Yes," the Knight says. "Froud says that after a few days of being around you, that I can move on to being around you...without the hair, you know? He says I just have to ease into things, you know?"

"No I don't know," Malice says. "What are you on about?"

Hatter says, "Crikey. Without hair? You want her bald?"

"No no," Froud says. "Just without the hair...on her face... Oh, but now I realize we didn't explain. We are referring to..." He points to the coffee table in front of the couch. On the table rests a book next to what appears to be a ragdoll in a dress. "The therapeutic mustache."

Malice looks to the doll's face where there appears to be a brown mustache above its mouth.

"That's not how dolls usually go," Hatter says.

"I concur," Malice says. "It seems a wee bit out of sorts."

"Yes," Humpty says. "That's hairier than most little girls' dolls."

The Knight shrieks. "Little girls?! There aren't any here, are there?" He looks around frantically—while avoiding looking at Malice.

Froud says, "Stay calm. Remember what we discussed about the irrational thoughts of panic."

"Yes, yes." The Knight nods. "During our sessions. I remember. Take deep breaths, you said." He takes some deep breaths.

The Cat zooms in next to the Knight and cries out, "Look! There! Where did that little girl even come from?!"

The Knight lets out a shriek. "Don't toy with me! I have a condition!"

The Knight takes some more calming breaths as the Cat chuckles.

"Come, I'll show you," the Knight says, and he walks over to the table. An armchair sits next to the couch. Behind the couch, about twenty feet away, is a wooden door set in the stone walls of the chamber. Next to the armchair is a ottoman. A short distance away from the furniture is a wooden stand where various knightly weapons such as swords, axes and maces are set up.

Malice looks down at the doll—a child's toy in a flimsy blue princess dress. It has buttons for eyes, and its mouth is stitched in yarn. Above its mouth is affixed a lush, brown, curvy mustache that is too large for the doll's small face.

The Knight explains: "We've been using it during my therapeutic sessions, to gradually get me desensitized."

The Cat chuckles.

Froud says, "The doll is a stand-in for a little girl. When we first began, he couldn't even look at it without screaming." He chuckles.

The Knight says, "We used to do therapy sessions right on that couch there. I've grown more comfortable with the doll. The next step was to remove the mustache and get used to her without it."

The Cat says, "Next step would be a dead girl, then a real live one," which gets a lot of glares.

Hatter says, "So that's where he would perform all his fancy psychiatric mumbo jumbo on ya, aye? Yeah, he tried a bunch of fancy so-called therapy on me too, but he did it back at my place, not here. Because why would we do it in here?"

Everyone is used to his craziness, so they just give him polite nods.

"Oh look!" Hatter exclaims, and he kneels next to the ottoman. "It's this storage box Froud keeps next to him whenever he interrogates me!" He rests his hand on it.

"Don't!" Froud shouts.

Hatter laughs. "Don't worry, doc. I won't open it." He looks to the Knight. "He never tells me what's in it, forbids me to open it. He do the same to you?"

"Aye," the Knight answers. "I have no idea what's in there."

Froud says, "And since it's private, it's none of your concern. It's important to respect boundaries. But we're not here about me, are we? We're here to help my current patient, the Knight. So please, fill Malice in on what I have proposed..."

The Knight clears his throat. "Yes, well, uh— I know that you passed all my trials, My Queen, so it's irrational to fear you, but the phobic part of my brain still has a grip on me, I'm afraid. However, I'm sure I just need some time to get used to being around you. I have to gradually desensitize myself to your presence. Froud has informed me that it would be very beneficial to me if..." He starts to choke up.

Malice is feeling extremely annoyed, and can't keep from shouting quite loudly, "What?! You've already imposed so much on me, why stop now? What is it?"

"Mustache," the Knight says whimperingly.

"Speak up!" Malice shouts.

Froud says, "I have suggested that you don the mustache. Just temporarily." He smiles at her.

"What?" Malice says. "For a few days?"

The Cat says, "You may cease on your 99th birthday."

But she ignores him. "How long?" she says, while glaring at Froud.

He shrugs. "It's certainly possible it shall only be two or three days."

The Knight mutters, "He tells me it's more likely to be two or three weeks. Oh, dash it all! At times, my virtuous and honest nature betrays me."

Malice says, "But it's best that I'm not deceived."

"Oh, I never want to deceive or betray you, My Queen. I wish to serve you most loyally. I just have this one embarrassing condition. I know it's asking a lot, but if you can just find it in your heart—"

Malice shoots him a look.

"Err, my apologies, My Queen. You have a condition as well, I respect that. And I know I have a weakness. Froud told me during therapy that I must admit my weaknesses if I wish to overcome them. And I shall overcome my fear, it shall just take some work. I'm sorry to involve you, it's just that ever since Alice snapped my neck and killed me...well, it really affected me, and you look so much like her."

Malice sighs. "Very well. I'll don the mustache for a little while, but don't think I'll go for more than a week wearing it. Why, it's so very unladylike."

"That's very sexist of you," Hatter says. "There's no reason a woman can't wear a mustache just as well as any man, and I daresay at times, she may even do it better!"

Malice shakes her head. "I'm sorry Hatty, but there are just certain things a man can just do better. A mustache is one of them."

Hatter looks aghast. "My dear girl! Do not think so little of yourself! I feel you are just as capable as any man."

"For the most part," Malice says, "But—"

Hatter is staring at her, slightly shaking his head, not comprehending.

Humpty gently says, "Hatter, women simply can't grow mustaches."

Hatter says, "Because society tells them not to! But if women try, they can accomplish anything!"

Humpty says, still gently, "You don't understand. Women are biologically incapable—"

"Oh, leave off," Malice says. "You'll only give yourself a headache arguing with him. Let's get this unpleasantness over with."

The Cat shakes his floating head in midair. "You humans and your hair."

The Knight says, "Yes, I don't want to prolong the wait any longer." He picks up the doll. He faces away from Malice for a moment, and when he turns back around to face her, he is holding the mustache in one hand, whilst covering his eyes with the other. "I have affixed the mustache with a special sort of glue that's harmless to skin."

"What's it made from?" Malice asks.

"The glue or the mustache?"

"Both," Malice says. "Oh, dash it all. Never mind. I don't care to know!"

The Knight says, "I wish to apply the mustache to your face myself. Froud feels it shall be helpful to face my fear...in a quite literal sense. But I still find it...scary. I ask that you close your eyes while I apply it. I'm still not ready to have you looking at me, staring at me with those eyes..." He shudders.

"Sure. You don't wish me to look at you? Very well. What's one more imposition after I have already tolerated so many?" And under her breath she mutters, "Crikey."

The Knight says, "Again, I'm sorry to inconvenience you. I'm sorry for my failures. I should have snapped right back after she snapped my neck."

Malice groans. "No, it is I who should apologize. Sorry my twin killed you. Wearing the mustache shall be my penance of sorts."

The Cat says, "It's better than the kind of penance that involves whips."

"My eyes are closed," Malice says as pleasantly as she can despite her irritation. "Carry on."

"Very well," the Knight says. "I shall apply the mustache now. Please lean forward to lower your head and try to remain still."

Malice is confused as to why she should "lower her head", since the Knight is taller than her, but she simply does as asked, and waits.

She hears the Knight mutter, "Oh dear, oh dear. That face. No offense, Queen. I'm sure it's generally accepted to be quite lovely. It just triggers my phobia. Enough dallying. I can do this. I am brave. I am the Knight." His voice is shaking. And now she feels something sticky and hairy pressed above her lip. The Knight is pressing the mustache on with trembling fingertips. "Please keep your eyes closed until I tell you," the Knight whispers. His hands cease touching her face, and she feels the mustache sticking above her mouth.

Malice resists the urge to wriggle her lips. She hears what sounds like the Knight stepping to the side.

"Hey!" Humpty shouts, and suddenly Malice feels something soft and fleshy press against her lips.

A kiss?!

Her eyes open wide in alarm.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Malice sees not the Knight, but Froud in front of her, backing away after having kissed her, and in reflexive outrage she slaps him hard across the face.

"How dare you!" she shouts.

The Knight shouts to Froud, "You cad! You didn't tell me you were gonna do that!"

Froud cackles creepily as he moves toward the stock of weapons—it's as if the slap didn't affect him at all, despite the glowing red skin of his cheek, as he says, "I stole her kiss!"

"But it means nothing!" Malice shouts. "It wasn't given willingly." She watches as Froud turns to face the stash of weapons and runs toward them.

The Knight shouts, "Foul villainous fiend! You're nothing more than a pervert who sought a kiss that wasn't freely given to you!" He pulls his sword free from his scabbard.

"He wanted to feel like me," Hatter says.

Malice turns to look at him. "What?" she says.

"He wanted the Black Rose Kiss!" Humpty exclaims.

"That is a correct analysis!" Froud exclaims. He picks up one of the swords from the weapons rack—a short sword—it sways a little from side to side in an awkward fashion.

"You scoundrel!" the Knight shouts. "I thought you were an honorable man...er, gnome."

Froud puts his other hand around the handle to steady his grip. "Ah, I can feel it coming on now. The delectable madness. But it's not quite divine. Not yet."

Hatter looks at him questioningly. "Huh?"

Froud points the sword at him. "Soon I shall be even madder than you!" He laughs a bit madly.

The Knight shouts at Froud, "You scoundrel! Apologize to My Queen at once for assaulting her virtue!"

"Yes!" Malice shouts. "And apologize for stealing the Black Rose Kiss. You're a fool, for now I shall see you in my dungeon."

Froud giggles quite a bit insanely, says, "You think I've gone amiss, by stealing the Black Rose Kiss? But soon I shall be in bliss, from the divine mad...niss."

"Oh, splendid," the Cat says. "Another poet. Now all we need is Morley to poke his pink head in."

Malice says to Froud, "Your bad poetry was not an apology. And your perversity shall bring your eulogy! Oh, dear, it seems I'm rhyming as well!" She points at Froud. "Lay down your weapon and surrender, and perhaps I shall be lenient in your punishment."

Froud shakes his sword at everyone and growls. "Stay back! All of you! Or I'll cut you into more pieces than a split personality case."

Malice has no idea what he's talking about, and looks to Humpty and Hatter. Hatter shrugs and Humpty shakes his head.

The Knight, meanwhile, is focused on Froud. "Rapscallion!" he shouts and shakes his sword. "Lay down your weapon and give yourself up peacefully."

Froud shakes his head. "That would be an irrational action on my part. Though, on second thought, I actually want the opposite of rationality. In either case, I shan't put my weapon down."

The Knight says, "I don't want to have to harm you. You've aided my mental state such a great deal..."

Malice says to Froud, "You want the opposite of rationality? What do you mean? It seems rather unbecoming for a therapist..."

"He wants madness," Hatter says. "Something I know quite well."

Froud cackles several moments too long, seeming quite unhinged. "Yes, my simple, mental patient, I want what you have, and more. I want the divine madness."

"Morley talks about that a lot," Humpty says.

"Morley talks too much, methinks," says the Cat.

The Knight looks at Malice and says, "Shall I capture him, Your Highness? I mean to say, do you prefer him alive or dead?"

Froud throws his head back and laughs in a sinister manner. "You are mistaken to think you can take me at all."

"Alive, I should hope," Malice says in response to the Knight's question.

Froud points at Malice and says to the Knight, "She is your true enemy, for she hides the little girl inside her."

The Knight whimpers, but puts on a brave face again. "I— must capture you...for My Queen."

Froud locks eyes with the Knight. "Don't trust her. She's a little girl pretending to be a queen. That's according to my expert analysis. But don't fret. She had me fooled as well, for quite some time."

The Knight looks at Malice with his mouth twerking side to side in his worry. "Is it true?"

Malice stomps her foot and gives forth a shout of indignation. "This is preposterous! I—"

Froud cuts her off. "It's true. Remember our therapy sessions?"

"Which one?" the Knight says.

Froud answers, "The hypnosis treatment. When I count down to 0, you shall reenter the hypnotic state. 3, 2, 1." He snaps his fingers. The Knight's posture goes rigid and he stares blankly straight ahead.

"What are you doing to him?" Hatter shouts.

"I've hypnotized him several times," Froud says, "as a part of his therapy. Unfortunately, I was never able to do the same with you—some people can't be hypnotized!"

"Snap out of it!" Malice shouts at the Knight. "Place Froud under arrest. Oiy! You, Knight, stop being hypnotized!"

But the Knight doesn't even flinch, just stares creepily ahead.

Malice steps toward the Knight, determined to shake him out of it, or maybe even slap some sense into him if she can persuade him to lean his face down within reach.

But when she is halfway there, Froud blurts, "When I snap my fingers, you'll see Malice in her true form—as a little girl." And he snaps his fingers.

The Knight shrieks and is trembling violently now. "Back! Get back!"

"What?!" Malice says. She takes a few steps backward, and looks to Hatter and Humpty, who are staring at the Knight with their mouths hanging open.

"Stay with me!" Froud shouts to the Knight, because he looks like he's about to flee. "Remember your calming exercises! Remember to breathe!"

The Knight takes a deep breath.

Malice says, "No need to be afraid. Because, I am not a little girl!" She stomps her foot and pouts severely.

Froud points at her, says, "Don't believe her. She's a pathological liar, and I say this as a trained psychiatrist. But we can make good of this situation. Think of it as a test of your coping skills, part of your desensitization. Do not fear her..."

"That's right," Malice says, putting on her best charming smile. "No need to be afraid of little ol' me."

The Knight looks at her doubtfully, and cocks his head to the side, says, "Why shouldn't I fear you, when..." He gestures with his sword up and down towards her. "You're so girly and littlely."

Froud says, "As frightening as she is, you can fend her off, with your sword, and the coping tools we have practiced together."

"This nonsense," Hatter shouts, "has gone on quite long enough. Time to knock some sense into you two." He takes some steps toward Froud while raising his fisted arms up in a most threatening manner.

Froud waves his sword back at him. "Eh, eh eh, that would be a most unwise decision on your part, for I shall surely skewer you without compunction."

Hatter looks at the sword and stops in his tracks while raising his hands in a placating gesture.

Froud sneers at him. "Those two," he says, while pointing with his chin at Humpty and Hatter, "are also little girls in disguise. And when I snap my fingers, you shall see their true natures." He snaps his fingers.

The Knight lets forth a long, shrill scream. He sways his sword back and forth at the group. "Back, you vile little cutesy monsters with your frilly dresses of doom!"

Humpty and Hatter take a few steps back. They look down on themselves at their trousers.

Malice gasps in mock horror. "Oh, dearest me! That's a laugh!" She holds her left hand palm up and says, "Little girls." She holds up her right hand to form the other side of her mimed scale. "Jabberwocks." She moves her hands up and down, comparing their weights. "Little girl." (left hand) then on her right hand, "Bandersnatch." And now, she throws her hands down and declares, "Codswallop." She crosses her arms and scowls.

"Funny that you should compare little girls to jabberwocks," the Knight says, "considering what they did to the jabberwocks in the past." He sniffs. "Of course, Froud said I was being irrational, letting my fear control me. He told me that was all in the past and little girls are much sweeter now. I knew he was feeding me gobbledygook." He shoots Froud an accusing look.

"I apologize," Froud says. "I didn't recognize how truly dangerous they are, before. But now I do."

"What are you on about?" Malice says.

"Vindicated!" the Knight says. "Finally!" But now his smile shifts into a frown. "But that means they're truly the vicious monsters I thought they were. Oh me, oh my! I like my arms! I can't possibly fend them all off! There are three of them!"

"He's gone mental," the Cat remarks. He's floating partway between the two groups, now facing Malice and the others, but he swivels back to face the Knight.

Such a good little spectator, Malice thinks to herself. "Useless prat," she mutters under her breath.

Hatter holds his hands palms facing the Knight in a nonthreatening gesture. "My good fellow! I like my arms as well. It seems we have much in common!"

The Knight shouts back, "Do not attempt to woo me with your dimples, villainous scamp. You are a vicious tiny tyke."

"Am I?" Hatter looks down at himself. "I just don't see myself that way." He looks at Humpty. "Do you?"

Humpty says, "See you that way, or see myself that way?"

"Either," Hatter says.

"Well, then, no," Humpty answers. "I must admit, that I'm still a bit confused by the Knight's remark about liking his arms." He turns to look at him. "Praytell, what do you mean?"

The Knight shrugs. "Since I haven't got wings, little girls would tear off my arms instead. Oh dear! Now I've gotten that image in my head! I really think I must go!"

"No!" Froud shouts. "Stay with the emotion. You can cope, using your techniques!"

The Knight whimpers, but gulps and nods.

Malice stomps her foot. "This is ridiculous! First of all, I'm not even a little girl! I passed all your little tests!"

"She cheated!" Froud says.

Malice gestures at Humpty and Hatter, "And these two...are blokes."

"Another lie," Froud says. "They are clearly little girls. You can see with your own two eyes!

The Knight nods at this. "Two dreadful, ferocious little girls I see with my own two peepers!"

Malice curses to herself under her breath. "Even if we were little girls, they aren't such dangerous creatures at all. In fact, they can be quite sweet and nice. Haven't you been going through therapy to convince yourself of that very thing?"

"Yes," the Knight says, mulling it over. "During therapy, Froud told me my fears were irrational."

Malice nods. "Now we're getting somewhere. Pardon my presumptions, but other than Alice snapping your neck once, has any little girl ever harmed you?"

"You drove a stake into my heart."

"I was 15."

The Knight says, "Well, there are all the legends about vicious little girls, and especially the ghastly things they did to the jabberwocks."

"You should heed the lessons of history!" Froud says.

Malice says, "You keep bringing up some dastardly things little girls did to jabberwocks. But our Jabberwock never mentioned anything of the sort. Praytell, what are you yammering about?"

As Froud rummages in his watch pocket for some reason, the Knight says, "I don't know why the Jabberwock never mentioned the tales and songs. Perhaps he is embarrassed or ashamed. But Froud told me to pay them no heed—that the stories were just old fables used to scare misbehaving children."

Malice looks to Froud to gauge his reaction.

Froud meets her eyes and begins to swing his pocket watch on its chain back and forth, left to right.

How curious.

Froud says, "All the legends are true. I downplayed the risks of little girls as part of my process of opposite-therapy." To Malice, he says, "Just watch the swaying watch—I mean, the swaying clock. It shall likely make you sleepy."

Now Hatter speaks up, saying, "Hold on...opposite therapy? Did you ever use that on me?"

Froud says, "We are not concerned with you right now, and no I didn't."

Hatter seems perplexed. "If it's opposite therapy, if you say you didn't, does that mean you did?"

"No, you daft clod!" Froud shouts. "You know there's a difference between being wonderfully mad and woefully stupid. You should learn it." The whole time he's speaking, he manages to keep the watch swinging quite rhythmically, Malice thinks. She finds the swaying motion quite calming.

The Knight says to Froud, "So are you telling me that my fears were justified all along?"

"Quite," Froud says. "Malice shall tear your arms off if you let her close enough."

"Preposterous!" Malice blurts.

"That would be a sight to see," the Cat remarks.

"You're being excitable," Froud says to Malice. "Focus on the watch. Let it lull you. You too, Humpty. Now, my good Knight, the reason I'm revealing this to you now, is that I judge you to be finally ready. You can face your fears. And you can fight back and bravely smite down any of these little girls should they approach you or me, right? I believe in you."

The Knight nods weakly and turns back to squarely face Malice and the others. "Yes, I can smite them. I have a sword, surely that will be enough?" He looks to Froud for confirmation, who nods, says, "Yes, confront your fear."

Malice shouts in outrage and frustration. "For the love of Pete, Knight! I'm not going to tear your arms off! I'm your friend!"

Hatter says, "In Malice's defense, she has never torn my arms off, though she did poison me once. But that was when she was heartless."

Humpty adds, "And she only killed me once, that I remember."

Froud notices that he has stopped swaying his watch and resumes once again.

Malice says to Humpty, "You're not helping. Now cease this nonsense at once, Knight! Froud is lying for some reason." She shoots him a scowl. He gestures at the watch.

"He wouldn't—" the Knight says, before being cut off by the Cat saying, "She killed me once as well, she did."

The Cat's about to speak more, but Malice silences him with a look.

Froud says, "Of course, she doesn't want to kill those two." He points his sword at Hatter and Humpty. "They're little girls as well. They stick together. No, little girls are the enemies of grown men and especially the jabberwocks, as you well know."

"Jabberwocks?!" Malice shouts. "Our Jabberwock is my friend and I am quite cordial to him. He's one of my royal guard!"

"And his wings?" the Knight says doubtfully.

"They're attached, you numbskull! I haven't torn them off."

The Knight raises his index finger in the air. "Ah, but can he fly?"

Malice stammers, "Well, no, but—"

"Exactly," the Knight says smugly.

"But no jabberwocks can!"

"Because of little girls!" the Knight shouts.

Malice says, "Now you're just being ridiculous. What did you call it? Irrational. Now little girls are the cause of all the world's woes, is that it?"

"Maybe," the Knight says. "Go ask the poor jabberwocks."

Malice shakes her head. "Sorry, you've obviously fallen for a load of rubbish. Praytell, what can a little girl do to a jabberwock?"

The Knight looks shaken up. "There are legends of what the little girls did to the jabberwocks. Horrible legends. The jabberwocks tell and sing of their woe in poems and songs. But Froud told me they were just exaggerated stories."

"I was protecting you," Froud says, "until you were strong enough to know the truth, that all the stories are absolutely true, every single one of them. All those wonderful songs, those 'little-girls-goodbyes', are based on fact. And that makes them all the more brilliant!" He tries to clap his hands together, forgetting what he's holding. "Oh, the black rose is helping me to fully realize the beauty and poetry of those little-girls-goodbyes! I feel moved to sing one!" He looks down at the watch twirling upon the chain before remembering himself and starting it swaying again, but since it is now both swaying and winding and unwinding, it looks more chaotic than calming.

Humpty says, "There are little-girls-goodbyes about little girls doing things to jabberwocks?"

"Yes, little girl!" the Knight says. "But I don't wish to hear them at the moment." He looks to Froud. "Please don't sing one. For, I know you said I'm ready and such, but I feel quite certain that if I hear one of those horrible songs, in my present state, that I shall quite unravel—no offense meant to your expert therapy, of course, my good man."

Froud giggles and says, "Very well, but I must admit, I can barely contain myself. This black rose within me helps me more fully realize the beauty, the art of those songs."

"He's gone mad, a complete nutter," the Cat says, hovering next to Froud.

Froud merely says, "Cat, you may watch the clock as well, if you think you're capable. Malice, keep watching..." He sways the watch. "Humpty, you as well."

Malice snarls and doesn't even look at the watch. Instead she glares at Froud. "Why are you doing this?"

"To calm you. You seem a bit worked up."

"No!" Malice shouts to Froud. "I meant...this!" She waves her hand at the Knight. "Why are you lying to the Knight? Turning him against us? Accosting and kissing me? Why?"

"The intoxication of the black rose," Humpty says.

The Cat says, "Perhaps he's caught the madness from his patients."

"Yes, gone completely mental, he has," Hatter says.

Froud's grin widens creepily, he looks a bit demented. "No, not completely. Not yet."

"What do you mean?" Malice says.

"You want to know why I'm doing this? Hmmm?" Froud says while tilting his head to the side, teasing.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

"Yes," Malice says. "Did you do this all just to get a taste of the black rose? Became a criminal just to get a bit walloped?"

Froud merely stares at her with that grin upon his face, looking creepy, swinging his watch, which Malice ignores.

"He'll soon be in the dungeon, no doubt," Humpty says.

Hatter says to Froud, "Of course you understand that I no longer want you treating me, considering your unprofessional behavior."

"He shan't be treating anyone anymore," Malice says. "He's ruined his career. And for what?"

"I told you," the Cat says. "He's completely lost it. The doctor becomes the patient."

"Aye," Humpty says while sneering at Froud. "He's a bloomin' whackjob, gone completely mad."

But Froud merely smiles back, as if he's holding a secret. "No, little girl," he says, "I haven't gone completely mad, not yet. That's the second part of my plan."

"Come again?" Humpty says, taken aback.

Froud says, "And it's only partially true that I shall become a patient, for when I reach the next stage, I shan't be in need of treatment..." He directs his gaze to indicate the ottoman.

Hatter says, "You would never tell me what was in that blasted container. Shall we finally find out?"

"You shall indeed." Froud gestures with his chin to the Knight. "Come here, my fine phobic fellow, and guard this cache of weapons. We wouldn't want those three getting their vicious little-girl hands on them, would we?"

"Definitely not," the Knight says as he walks toward Froud.

Now Froud stands by the ottoman, whilst the Knight is in front of the stockade of weapons.

Froud places his watch back inside his pocket. "Now, my good little child queen, you wanted to know why I'm doing this."

"To feel the effects of the black rose?" Humpty says.

"Partially, my sadly sane little girl. You see, I don't mind at all that I won't be able to treat the insane any longer. For you see, I no longer feel they should be treated at all. And the fact of the matter is that... I wish to become one of you." He's looking at Hatter.

Hatter says, "It's jolly good fun, being mad is. I always wondered why you were so adamant about curing me—I rather resented it actually."

The Knight calls out, "Well then why did you keep attending his sessions?"

Hatter looks down. "I enjoyed the attention."

Malice says, "I'm sorry, I just really have to ask." To the Knight she says, "You know this is the Mad Hatter, right?"

"'Tis," the Knight says with a nod.

Malice continues, "The one always wearing a top hat, known for being mad."

"Aye," says the Knight.

"So when you look at him, what sort of person do you see?"

"When I look at her, I see a little girl, of course."

"In a top hat?"

"Of course. She wouldn't be much of a hatter without one, now would she?" And he rolls his eyes.

Hatter is looking down at himself and patting his body in dismay.

Malice points at the Cheshire Cat to the side. "And that's the Cheshire Cat, correct?"

"Unfortunately," the Knight says.

"So when you look at her or him, which do you see? A floating full-sized girl head, or a miniature-sized little girl?"

The Knight chuckles. "Neither! I see a floating cat head, you silly billy!"

"Of course," Malice says. "How ridiculous of me to suggest otherwise. Now you..." She points at Froud. "Carry on." She can tell by his expression that he's trying to remember where he left off. "You were saying you wish to become a mental patient..."

"No, my little girl queen. Not a patient. Something greater. For, I won't have a 'condition' that needs to be treated, I shall have a glorious gift to be envied!" He lifts his index finger to accentuate his point.

"Because of what's in the ottoman?" the Cat says.

"Indeed," answers Froud.

Hatter says, "Oh won't it be marvelous fun to try and guess what's in there? Why, the one who guesses the closest could win a prize of some sort."

"Hatter!" Malice shouts. "This is not some game."

Hatter's shoulders slump. "My apologies, My Queen."

"A severed head," the Cat says. "That's what I venture to guess is in there. How close do I have to get, exactly, and who's the judge of it? And also, I should like to know what the prize shall be."

"There is no prize!" Malice shouts. "No, I take that back, the prize shall be you being slapped silly if there is actually a severed head in there! Now that's enough guesses. I'm sure this traitorous prat shall reveal the box's contents shortly." She looks at Froud. "So go on then, finish your speech."

Froud clears his throat. "Well, I started my career holding quite conventional attitudes. I believed that the mad needed to be 'fixed'—to be made rational, sane...normal."

"I tend to be mad, normally," Hatter says.

"Yes, indeed my good chap, errr..." Froud's eyes shift side to side. "I mean my chappy, er chapped, little girl who's not a chap. And when I first started treating you, I pitied you."

Hatter frowns and says, "'Tis a pity."

Froud says, "But, as time went on, I came to see what intriguing places your thoughts went to, feasting upon ideas a sane person could never attain."

"Do go on," Hatter says. "I like your assessment."

"Yes, my fine fellow...err..." Froud's eyes shift side to side.

"'Felon' I'm sure you meant to say," the Cat mocks. "Or perhaps you meant 'feline' like me."

"No, I meant 'fallow'. Now, Hatter, I am a highly intelligent scholar, and I do so love books. But the ones I studied to become a psychiatrist all followed the conventional view, the wrong view, I'm afraid. But actually interacting with you began to change my views upon the matter, my good ma—" His eyes shift side to side. "...maiden, little maiden."

"Next you'll be calling me a mermaid," Hatter remarks.

Froud chuckles. "I may very well be doing such things quite soon. So, after interacting with you, I began seeking out different sorts of books. These were books that spoke of the connection between genius and madness! That spoke of poets and artists caught up in the throes of that glorious state known as divine madness! And so, once these books opened my eyes, Hatter, things changed so that when I looked at you, I no longer pitied you. No, I came to envy you!"

"It seems I'm in an enviable position," Hatter says.

Froud says, "I want to be possessed of the divine madness! But it's not easily attained by someone who doesn't naturally possess it. Through books I learned about the effects of the black rose. But I never imagined I'd have the opportunity to partake of it. But then you, Malice, brought it within my reach, or perhaps it's more accurate to say: within my kiss."

"You fiend!" Malice shouts. "So now you feel this 'divine madness' as you call it?"

"Not yet. The madness of the black rose is not powerful enough on its own, especially since I got a diluted dose. But in combination with what is inside that ottoman, I believe it shall be enough."

"Brilliant!" Hatter exclaims and he claps enthusiastically.

Humpty scowls at him, says, "I don't think you should be encouraging him."

"No, you're right, little lass," Froud says, speaking to Hatter. "Madness is brilliant! Just as you are, my madgirl."

"I'm brilliant?"

Malice says to Froud, "Now don't you go encouraging him. He'll get a big head."

"Oh, my dear!" Hatter says as he lifts his hands up and feels the top of his hat. "Will my hats still fit?"

"I think you should be more concerned," the Cat says, "that your head shall explode."

Hatter lets forth a squealy sort of whimper.

"Oh pay him no heed," Malice says. "Your head's not going to explode."

Froud says, "But I do think you're brilliant." And despite the nasty look Malice shoots him, he continues, "Brilliantly mad. I can't explain to you what torture it was to pretend to try to cure you, when all along, I knew that your mental state was a thing of majesty! Of beauty! A glorious thing that the common, unsophisticated boor would never be able to understand, let alone appreciate!"

"You don't say!" Hatter says, while straightening his posture regally.

"Are you quite done buttering him up?" Malice shouts. She strongly desires to stomp her foot, but refrains from doing so, and manages to maintain her tact.

"I'd fancy something buttered up, right now," the Cat says—his tongue flicks out in yearning.

"Hush, Cat," Malice says.

Froud continues speaking to Hatter: "I spent years applying useless treatments to you while the whole time, I admired your insanity. It was a privilege to be close to it, and I even siphoned off some of my own, hoping that one day the right opportunity would present itself."

"What do you mean, you 'siphoned off some of your own'?" Malice asks.

"I stored some of Hatter's madness away, but alas, even though Hatter is quite spectacularly mad, he has not attained that kind of madness that would be considered the divine sort...no offense."

Hatter crosses his arms, but gives a nod of acceptance.

"So what's in the ottoman box, then?" Humpty asks.

Froud doesn't even acknowledge him, as he says, "However, I believe, that now..." He bends down and grabs the top of the ottoman with his hand that's not holding a sword. "...I shall be able to shift my mind into divine madness, forever!" He opens the lid of the ottoman and brings out a top hat. "Using this!"

"Hey!" Hatter says. "That's my bloodletting hat!"

"Bloodletting hat?" the Cat echoes excitedly.

"Yes, but not in the literal sense," Froud says.

"Figurative!" Hatter proclaims excitedly, eager to show off his knowledge.

"Yes, my friend," Froud says. "I—"

"We are no longer friends," Hatter says. "You offended my Malice's honor."

"Very well. In any case, many months ago, I told Hatter to construct a magical hat that would be used to lessen his madness in a way similar to bloodletting. During the so-called therapy, I would help him to think mad thoughts while he wore this, and a portion of his madness would be 'bled' away, lessening the amount still within his mind."

"Those were the times I felt frighteningly close to sane," Hatter says, and shudders.

"I apologize profusely for that."

Hatter shrugs. "At least I always grow back more madness rather quickly."

"Indeed," Froud says. "I envy you."

"Thank you," Hatter says, with a little bow.

"I must admit to deceiving you as to the true purpose of the hat. I had no intention of treating you. In fact, I now feel quite the opposite—I want to encourage you to attain even greater heights of madness. I know you have experienced the Black Rose Kiss, but have you ever directly ingested any of the petals?" He shakes his head. "Never mind that, since, as you say, we're no longer friends. Here's the fact of the matter: after you created your magic hat and entrusted it to my care, I brought it to a local witch I know to have even more magic placed upon it. The end result is that the hat has been storing up a portion of your madness, like a kind of insanity battery, waiting for the appropriate moment for it to be unleashed. And that moment is at hand! When I place this hat upon my head and recite the special word to invoke the spell, all your stored madness shall flow into my mind like a reverse bloodletting."

"Bloodlettings can be reversed?" Humpty says.

"That would be an intriguing sight to see," the Cat says.

Froud glances at them without replying and continues, "I hope that the Hatter's concentrated madness, combined with the black rose's, will be enough to raise me to the level of divine madness! Hopefully, permanently." He places the hat on his head.

"You fiend!" Malice shouts. "You could kill yourself or irreversibly alter your mental state, and not in a good way."

Froud rolls his eyes. "Is that so? Matters of the mind are my expertise. Have you come up with something I don't know?"

"Your head could explode," the Cat offers.

"It might," Froud concedes.

Hatter lifts his index finger in the air, says, "You might grow an elephant's trunk—"

"Not bloody likely," Froud says.

Hatter says, "You didn't let me finish. You might grow an elephant's trunk...from your belly button."

"Oh," Froud says. "Well I suppose that's possible."

Humpty snaps his fingers. "Paralysis. Might that be a possibility?"

Malice rubs her chin. "More likely than the elephant trunk, I'd say."

The Cat says, "I can't say I fancy the paralysis possibility, because that wouldn't be very exciting, now would it? No blood, no gore...unless he fell and hit his head, I suppose, even so—"

"Enough!" Froud shouts. "I shan't be discouraged. I've waited years for this moment."

"Well, then I suppose this is your last chance," Malice says. "Unhat yourself and surrender to the mercy of the crown."

Froud smirks. "Your Highness is not wearing one."

"You know what I mean. Put an end to this madness."

"Clever. But no, I intend to put a beginning to my madness, my divine madness! And now, without any further ado, let the procurement of madness ensue!" He taps the top of the hat and proclaims, "Insanityhatthwapzoomzoom!"

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Froud's eyes jolt wide open like he has been startled by someone popping out of a box. But now his facial expression droops. He drops his sword and loses his balance, and very nearly stumbles onto the ground before lazily righting himself.

Malice is thinking this is a good time to rush him, but he bends and picks up his sword again. His hand is trembling, but not out of nervousness—it is as if he is surging with energy.

He is breathing heavily, his eyes vacant, as if he is busy assessing his feelings and thoughts. And now an overly huge smile stretches up his face—it is the smile of a madman.

"No paralysis, unfortunately," Humpty states quietly, so as not to be overheard by Froud.

"There is still hope his head might explode," the Cat says, not bothering to quiet his voice.

"But if it does," Hatter says, in a normal-volumed voice, "it shall ruin the hat."

Froud's eyes shift into focus, and now they crinkle. "I feel it!" He giggles. "The great madness within! I am filled to the brim with it! I'm very nearly to the boiling point with it, at which point my brim shall boil over with divine madness!"

"Oh! Shall your head boil, then?" the Cat asks hopefully.

"I am speaking metaphorically!" Froud proclaims overly-dramatically, as if he is an actor upon a stage.

Hatter says, "I fear a boiling head may quite ruin the hat as well."

Froud says, "No, my fellow madman—"

"Madgirl," the Knight shouts in an offended tone. "You keep referring to her with male terms when she is obviously a loathsome little girl."

"Yes, obviously I was being ironic. And I thought I told you not to interfere. Now, as I was saying, no, my fellow madperson, my head won't boil literally, but shall figuratively boil over with the ideas of genius! And it shan't explode in a gory way, but it shall metaphorically explode with divine poetry and artistry!" He leans his head back and lets forth a devious, maniacal laugh.

"You're mad!" Malice says. And now she realizes what a silly thing that was to say.

"Yes, divinely mad!" He winks at her. "And now that I am, I shall surely become a famous artist of some sort. I can't decide whether to be a poet or a sculptor! Perhaps both!"

"If you can evade my guards," Malice says.

"That shall surely be easy for me! For I shall be possessed of masterful cunning and intellect sprung from my glorious divine madness. Oh, Hatter! I am even madder than you! Perhaps I could henceforth be called 'the Mad Therapist'."

"My nickname is 'Hatty'. Would yours be 'Therapy'?"

Froud says, "Perhaps it shall be 'PowerPillow'."

"Why Powerpillow?"

"Alliteration?" Froud waves his hand dismissively. "But enough about how the history books shall refer to me. I feel like boinging."

"Boinging?" Malice says, but before she can even finish the word, Froud is hopping up and down whilst shouting, "Boing! Boing! Boing!"

Hatter joins in. "Boing! Boing!"

"Cease that, you two!" Malice shouts, and they cease boinging.

Froud proclaims, "I'm utterly, gloriously, divinely mad!"

"Me too!" Hatter says, sounding a bit rankled.

"No, you're not as mad as I! Why I bet I can even..." He untucks his shirt and places his hand upon his belly, and begins giggling. "Ha ha! I'm tickling myself. That proves how mad I am, in a supremely divine manner!"

Hatter mimics him but doesn't giggle. He frowns. "I'm incapable of tickling myself."

Humpty looks as if he wants to give it a go, but refrains from doing so.

Malice doesn't even bother. She places her hand on her hip and says to Froud, "Is that all your so-called genius is good for? Silly words and giggles? I should like to hear some of the wondrous, genius poetry you've been prattling about."

"Why?" Froud says, "So you can steal it? No, I shall compose my grand works in private, away from common, boorish plebeians such as yourself. Only the exalted and refined aesthetes capable of truly understanding and appreciating my poetic arts shall be gifted with the unveiling of my poems. It pains me to spend a single moment more amongst such unsophisticated clods."

"Hmpph," Malice says. "So you're going then? How far do you think you'll get?"

Froud says, "Speaking of poetry, I am reminded of the little-girls-goodbyes of the jabberwocks, particularly those that reference the little girls' cruelty toward the poor jabberwocks of the past."

The Knight shrieks. "Oh no! That is not a good thing to remember!"

Froud says, "Well I admit, they're unsophisticated and sing-songy, but they are after all, meant for little jabberwock children. However, they do have some foundation in events of the past. And the Queen and her entourage seem quite interested in the history. Perhaps if I sang some, it might shed some light—"

"Please, sir, I beg of you!" the Knight pleads. "My phobia! You know how those songs affect me!"

Froud dramatically rubs his chin. "Ah yes, I remember from our therapy sessions. I seem to recall one little-girls-goodbye in particular...well, when I sang that one, it was hard to keep you on the couch. Do you recall which one?"

"Yes, but I shan't tell you, you mind meddler! Don't toy with me!"

Froud snaps his fingers. "Ah! I remember now."

"Well then sing it," Malice says. "Now that you've got our curiousity piqued."

"Please, My Queen," the Knight says. "Don't ask him to do that. You don't understand."

"Pish posh," Malice says. "I'm your Queen again now? Why should I care for your wishes after you've pulled a sword on us?"

The Knight's jaw works silently but no words come out.

Froud sings to him, "Hush little jabberwocks—"

"Stop!" the Knight yells, but Froud continues singing:

"Sleep soundly, sleep tight,

And don't let the little girls come out to bite."

The Knight shouts, "Oh, their jaws that go snicker-snack! Don't bite me! Don't bite me!" He begins swinging his sword through the air, at the height of what would be a little girl's head.

Malice says, "It's the vorpal blade that goes snicker-snack in that Jabberwocky poem, not girl jaws, you dolt!"

And Froud sings:

"Mama's gonna check underneath your bed,

For any hiding girls who want you dead."

"No!" the Knight yells, while swinging his sword more frantically and looking about, twitching his head this way and that. "No! I don't want to die! Don't let them tear my arms off and feed them to me!"

"That's a bit much, isn't it?" Malice says. She wonders if the Knight is actually hallucinating a horde of murderous little girls.

Now Hatter is looking frantically about. "Well don't expect the little girls to eat me! I'd much rather they eat the Knight. After all, he's the one that's been afraid of them this whole time."

"There are no little girls, Hatter," Humpty says. "He's imagining them."

"Now why would he do a silly thing like that?" Hatter says.

And now Froud sings, while giggling some between some of the words:

"Oh, hush little jabberwock, don't you cry,

Even though little girls stole our wings to fly.

Oh, ever since the little girls clipped our wings.

Little-girls-goodbyes, we jabberwocks sing.

Malice says, "Oh, bravo for the scary song about the boogeymen, or 'boogeygirls', as it were."

But the Knight is freaking out, twisting, and looking over his shoulder. "They're so stealthy! They surround me, but evade my sight! They're like little ninjas! I am not safe here! Queen, please call them off!"

Malice shrugs. "I can't control the little urchins." She waves at empty air. "Oh, hi, little Miss Emilia McKnightshebops, nice battle mace."

The Knight shrieks and Malice grins, the Cat chuckles, and Froud sings some more:

"So rest your weary head tonight,

And dream your wings are capable of flight,

In a dark and gloomy world,

Where there are no little girls."

"Ah," the Knight says and closes his eyes. "A world without little girls. How pleasant that would be..."

"What's with the 'Dream of a dark and gloomy world' bit?" Malice says.

"The jabberwocks fancy dark and gloomy things," Humpty says.

"Ah yes, that's right," she says.

"They also fancy red and bloody things," says the Cat. "A predilection I wholeheartedly approve of."

The Knight has been muttering to himself. Malice wasn't paying attention before, but now she listens to him saying, "'Twas all my imagination, yes. I must use my coping techniques. I can handle this. Yes. Yes." Despite his words, he's trembling, though.

Froud places his hand next to his mouth, and quietly addresses Malice and friends. "I taught him various coping techniques to manage his fears. But as his former therapist, I believe I know my patient better than he knows himself. Behold."

Malice thinks it strange he said 'Behold' so quietly, when usually one would expect the word to be loudly shouted, but Froud didn't want the Knight to overhear.

Indeed the Knight seems to still be lost in his internal reverie, his eyes still closed, saying to himself, "Yes, stay calm. Use your breathing techniques. If you can control your breathing, you can control the fear."

Froud sings:

"Hush little Knighty, just give in,

The little girls will punish all your sin.

The ruthless girls who feed on fears,

Have come to take away your ears.

They'll woo you with their dimpled charms,

And leave you with no toes or arms."

The Knight gives a high pitched shriek that echoes throughout the cave. He drops his sword, turns, and runs toward the door in the back, howling the whole time.

Froud shouts after him, "Run! Run free and embrace your madness!"

The Knight disappears from view, but his howls can still be heard.

Froud waits patiently for the howls to go silent, before stating, "I made that last stanza up myself."

Humpty says, "We figured."

"Ooh!" Hatter proclaims while raising his hand like a schoolchild. "I knew that after only three lines."

Froud waves his hand in the direction the Knight had fled. "Behold the power of poetry! The poetry wrought of my genius!"

"It was hardly genius," Malice says, and rolls her eyes.

"I scoff at your naivete." He makes a scoffing sound. "The effects upon my specific audience speaks for itself. The Knight found my poetry so inspiring, he had no choice but to run and inform all of Wonderland of my greatness."

"You inspired fear," says the Cat.

Malice, speaking to Froud, says, "Your interpretation is interesting."

Froud lets loose a shout frustration. "I cannot bear to be in the presence of such mental inferiors a single moment longer. My madness is so great, that to you simpletons, it is like gazing upon the sun. My level of madness is so grand in comparison to yours, that it is as if you are ants at my feet, each carrying teeny tiny crumbs of madness, whereas I am like a huge, giant-sized ant carrying a huge boulder of madness, like the giant, Atlas, carrying the world upon his shoulders."

Humpty says, "I thought you were an ant."

"At least I'm not a pissant, like you!" proclaims Froud. A look of confusion comes over his face. "But if I was, I'd be the greatest pissant ever known to ants!"

"Wait," Malice says, "you do know a pissant is not a sort of ant, right?"

Froud thinks upon that for a moment. He shakes his head as if to clear it. "This grows tedious. You are not worthy to be in my presence." He dramatically places the back of his hand to his forehead. "Oh, the life of a genius is a lonely one, because of the lack of companions on my level, you see. And even though I am already a legendary poet of exalted status, I shall only accomplish even more in the future, causing greater envy in others. The common masses shall shun me, thus further increasing my loneliness."

Malice says, "How can you be a legendary poet, when you haven't composed any poetry, unless you mean that silly song of yours?"

"The genius of my poetry is self-evident. It needn't even be created yet for its gloriousness to be felt—that's how powerful it is."

"Interesting theory," the Cat says.

"Utter tripe," Humpty mutters under his breath.

Froud snarls. "I wouldn't expect such plebeians to comprehend. And now, I bid you adieu, for I must go seek solitude to contemplate the torturous thoughts of a mad genius that lead to all the greatest art."

"Whoa, horsey!" Hatter shouts. He pulls upon imaginary reins.

The Cat chuckles and says, "Blimey, the invisible little girls brought an invisible horsey!"

"He means halt," Humpty says.

"Yes," Malice says. "After what you've done to me, my friends, and the Knight, do you truly think we shall let you simply waltz out of here?"

"That's exactly what I think. For, I took precaution to aid my escape. Because, that whole time I was swinging that watch, I was hypnotizing you. So here we go. When I snap my fingers, you shall enter a hypnotic state." He snaps his fingers.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

A strange, trance-like feeling comes over Malice. Her arms drop to her sides and she stares blankly ahead. She feels utterly calm. In her unfocused vision, she sees Froud grin and wave at her.

Hatter says, "Humpty? Malice? Snap out of it!"

Froud says, "Malice, Humpty, when I snap my fingers, you both shall turn into chickens." He snaps his fingers.

Malice feels herself transform and begins flapping her wings and pecking her head forward and back just like the chicken that she's certain she is.

Humpty has been transformed as well. He peers at her, cocking his head in that peculiar way chickens have.

Hatter steps in front of her, meets her eyes and says, "When I snap my fingers you'll wake up." He snaps his fingers. "You're no longer a chicken."

"It's no use," Malice says. "I'm still a chicken, but I find it rather enjoyable," but since she's speaking in chicken language, it sounds like, "Buckbuckgaw! Buck buck."

Hatter nods at her words. "Yes I know it's very distressing to be a chicken. But the good news is that you're not one—you neither, Humpty. You're just hypnotized."

The Cat says, "I'm glad you're not one, because I'm rather hungry at the moment, if you catch my drift."

Froud has been laughing at them. He says, "The chicken gag never gets old. But I have more mischief in store for you. Malice, when I snap my fingers, you shall have the strong desire to kiss Hatter."

"What?" Hatter exclaims.

"Humpty, when I snap my fingers, you shall have the strong desire to kiss Malice. Oh, and by the way, I should tell you that, even though the phenomenon of hypnosis is quite powerful, it can't make you do anything you don't want to do already."

He snaps his fingers.

Malice feels the sudden urge to kiss Hatter, so she turns to him and says in chicken language, "I've wanted to kiss you, really kiss you, for a long time. Please allow me one passionate kiss—if you don't want me to, say so now!"

Hatter looks utterly perplexed, as if he can't even understand a word she's saying. "Huh?" he says. He looks past her, says, "Froud is dancing with one of the tall little girls!"

Malice turns to see that Froud still has his sword in hand, but now he's holding his arms in the air while performing a ball room dance. It is as if he is dancing with an invisible female partner, and yes, his partner is the height of a full grown adult woman. So, there is a bit of logic to Hatter's statement, because if Froud were actually dancing with a little girl, then she would be a quite tall one for her age.

But now Malice realizes it's all preposterous speculation, because there weren't any little girls around here to begin with.

The Cat shouts to Froud, "What the blooming heck are you doing?"

Froud shouts back, "I'm waltzing out of here!"

Malice watches as Froud sidesteps and twirls in the direction of the rear exit. But she doesn't watch any further, because she really really needs to place her lips upon Hatter's. And so she turns to face him, she meets his eyes and puckers her lips. It strikes her as odd that she now has lips on the end of her beak. Curiously, she can still feel the fake mustache clinging by its glue above her mouth.

Hatter cringes and waves his hands, palms out at her. "Whoa, horsey!"

Malice says (in chicken), "I'm no horsey, I'm a chicken, and chickens like pecking, and I want to give you a peck on the lips, baby."

Once again, Hatter fails to understand chickenspeak. He says, "You're only acting this way because you're hypnotized, but if—" He looks past her. "Froud is gone, the hypnosis should wear off soon."

Now Humpty steps out behind Hatter's shoulder and says (in chickenspeak) "Don't waste your time on him. I think you're a beautiful and charming chick, and I very much want to kiss you."

"Awww," Malice says, in human-speak this time. But she doesn't take her eyes off of Hatter—who she's very much focused on at the moment.

"Love triangle," comments the Cat, who is hovering above Hatter's other shoulder, opposite Humpty.

Hatter is still looking past Malice, making her angry by ignoring her, and he's saying, "He's getting away! There's no time for smooching! We must—"

Malice pounces on him and tries to kiss him, but he holds her at arm's length. "Whoa! Chicky! Wouldn't want to do anything we regret, now would we?"

Hatter seems a bit embarrassed as he holds her arms—his eyes linger upon her beak mouth, which she feels has become an odd combination of chicken beak and human mouth, for some reason.

"I like to think I'm a quite attractive, kissable chick," Malice says in English, since she seems to have temporarily forgotten how to speak chicken.

"You are," Humpty says in English.

Hatter twitches his head as if to clear it. "We must catch Froud! Come on!" He releases Malice and runs toward the door.

Malice finds herself staring into Humpty's eyes. She is intrigued by the fact that his face is currently a curious mix of chicken and boy. He doesn't have a beak—he has a mouth, with soft, pillowy-looking lips.

Those lips say, "He doesn't appreciate you and how wonderful it would be to kiss you."

She says Humpty, "I've wanted to kiss you for the longest time, but you didn't want to."

"Why are you two just standing there?" Hatter calls out from a distance away.

"I wanted to," Humpty says. "I was just afraid, but not now. Malice, I think you're the most beautiful, part-girl-part-chicken I've ever known."

"Am I exactly half of each?"

"Presently, you are mostly girl, and for that—"

"Hey horseys!" Hatter calls from a not-as-far-distance as before.

"For that," Humpty says, "I am grateful, for despite the attractiveness of your former beak, I yearn to feel your soft girl lips upon mine..." He leans forward.

Malice closes her eyes.

She feels his lips touch hers.

Hatter is screaming, "Noooo!" He's much closer now.

Malice's eyes pop open. Humpty's lips are jerked away from hers and he's carried off to her left.

She lets out an involuntary shriek and turns her head to see Humpty falling onto his side on the hard cave floor, with Hatter on top of him, his arms around Humpty's waist.

"Get off him, you brute!" Malice shouts. She runs over and slaps down a couple times on Hatter's shoulder, and Hatter is flinching whilst saying, "Ow! Hey!"

The Cat is floating next to Malice, laughing his head off, figuratively. "Bravo!" he proclaims. "What a tackle!"

Malice grabs Hatter's shoulder and with a rough shove pushes him off of Humpty. Hatter lands on his side.

Humpty is lying on his side as well—he grabs his arm and groans.

"Humpty!" Malice says. "Are you okay, honey?"

"Unfortunately, I don't see any blood," the Cat says, to no response from anyone.

Hatter says, "I had to stop the kiss! You didn't touch lips, did you? And don't kiss anymore."

Malice kneels, and her mouth forms a pout of sympathy as she meets Humpty's eyes. She can feel her heart beating erratically in her chest. Without turning to look at Hatter, she says to him, "Of course our lips touched, but not for long, thanks to you, you jealous kiss-cuckold." She strokes Humpty's cheek. "Are you okay, baby?"

"I think so," Humpty says to Malice. "He merely knocked the wind out of me."

"What's a kiss-cuckold?" Hatter says. "A type of chicken?"

Malice turns to glare at him. "No, it's not a kind of chicken, you brutish troglodyte. It means you couldn't stand seeing me kiss Humpty, and so you lashed out with violence like the vindictive clod you are." She turns back to Humpty. "There, there, sweety, you just lie there until you're ready. Don't let the bad man scare you."

Hatter murmurs, "I was trying to stop you from transferring the black rose to him, don't you see? Hopefully, I ended the kiss soon enough. Oh dear, oh dear. And I'm not referring to the four-legged creatures with antlers."

"We kissed," Humpty says with an alarmed expression as he looks into Malice's eyes.

"Bugger and blast. I'm sorry you found my kiss so deplorable."

"It's not that," Humpty says. "It's just..." His jaw hangs open, with him not being able to say more.

Typical Humpty, Malice thinks to herself.

"Wait!" Hatter says. He kneels next to her. "You've been speaking English." He nudges his chin down to Humpty. "Sorry mate, seems I gave you a bit of a rough shove."

Malice shouts to Hatter, "Of course I've been speaking English, you fiend!"

"Quite understandable under the circumstances," Humpty says to Hatter.

Hatter says to Malice, "So you don't fancy yourself to be a chicken?"

Malice turns her head to scowl at him. "What? Of course not, you cad!"

Hatter says, "So perhaps the shock of my tackle snapped you out of the hypnosis, or it simply wore off."

Malice returns her attention to Humpty, who is touching his lips with his fingertips, so she asks him, "What are you doing?"

"My lips, they're tingling."

"The black rose," Hatter mutters.

Humpty's eyes go wide in alarm and he jolts upright to a sitting position. "What's going to happen to me?"

Malice says, "You'll become a bit intoxicated, but don't worry, I'm sure you got a low dose, since Froud already drained a lot of the strength already."

"Oh, dear," Humpty says. "Listen, Malice, that— What happened was a mistake. I wasn't myself."

Malice scowls. "So you regret it."

"No, of course not, I mean to say, it just wasn't proper, what with us being hypnotized and all."

In her side vision, Malice sees Hatter standing up.

Malice says, "Froud said hypnosis can't make you do what you don't actually want to do in the first place."

"I don't think those were his exact words," Humpty mutters, with a blush forming on his cheek.

"Well, don't kiss again," Hatter says, as Humpty starts to get up.

"Why?" Malice says, "Because it would drive you mad with jealousy?"

Humpty rises to a full upright position, and Malice rises as well.

"Just don't want the lad to get too much of the black rose," Hatter mutters.

Humpty swoons, "Whoa," he says, and Malice places her hands on the sides of his arms to steady him— "There there," she soothes.

The Cat says, "I personally, would like to see him get more of that stuff. Might loosen him up, make him less of a boring prude."

"I feel a bit... peculiar," Humpty says.

"Quick, kiss him again!" the Cat goads.

Malice shoots him a look, before looking down. "I'm feeling a bit odd myself," she mutters. She presses her hand to her chest to feel the combination of coldness and a weak heartbeat.

"Oh bother," Hatter says. "We'll watch over you both, make sure you're okay. Unfortunately, Froud's distraction worked. While you two were snogging, he slipped away."

Malice watches as a dopey grin forms on Humpty's face, causing her to arch her brow at him. She says, "The Knight's gone as well. I suppose we can cross him off our list of potential team members."

A thoughtful expression forms on Humpty's face.

"Oh, what now?" Malice prods.

Humpty says:

"The Knight shall not go on our quest.

His bravery is not the best,

He'd scream and turn white as a sheet,

If ever a little girl, he'd meet."

The Cat groans. "Great. Another poet. They grow like weeds!"

Humpty giggles.

"He's lambasted," Hatter says.

"Makes me yearn for some catnip," the Cat says.

"I'm envious," says Malice. "For I fear that each time I was kissed, it robbed me of the levels of black rose within me. Also, it's been several hours since my last dose, so a lot of its effects are wearing off. I fear my heart may be malfunctioning again, for I can feel my old feelings of viciousness returning."

"Oh, dear," Hatter says. "We must return to the castle at once, so you can take more."

Malice snarls at him and points. "You! Don't act like you're oh-so-kind and caring! You tackled Humpty, and—"

"Please," Humpty says in that infuriatingly meek manner of his, "Calm yourself."

"Oh, shut up, Humpty!" She creeps toward Hatter. "You tackled him, and don't try to pretend you weren't doing it out of jealousy." She stands in front of Hatter now. "So, I'm going to give you what you deserve!" She raises her hand to slap his face, and Hatter cringes.

"What are you doing?" Humpty shouts.

Malice stays her hand, holding it in the air while looking at it in confusion, disturbed by what she was about to do.

"Go ahead," Hatter says quietly. "I deserve it."

Well you asked for it. Her hand rears back slightly in preparation. But there is a part inside of her that stops her, even though she's furious with him and wants to make him hurt for hurting Humpty.

"Don't do it," Humpty says. "Please."

Hatter is standing still, not defending himself. She meets his eyes and can see the fear there, which he's trying to hide. Fear of what? Not her slap, no. He fears that she might be losing control again, that must be it.

"Please don't," the Cat says. "I don't like to see my friends hurt each other." Malice has learned that, though the Cat likes gore and violence, he doesn't like to see his friends fighting or hurt in a serious way. And, though he likes drama between his friends, he doesn't like it to go too far.

Malice lowers her hand and lets out a breath of air. "Sorry. I lost my temper. Hatter, I know you were trying to help us when we were acting weirdly whilst under hypnosis."

Hatter says, "It was a tense situation, quite understandable if it upset you."

Malice smiles at him and laughs, but she feels both gestures must seem nervous and forced. "I just need to get home and take some more black rose. I think its calming effects have been good for me. I'd almost forgotten how I used to be without it." She gives another laugh that comes out sounding uncomfortable in her ears.

"You were beastly without it," the Cat mutters under his breath.

"Yes, well..." Malice says, trying to keep her composure. "All the more reason for me to partake of the black rose. Now..." she addresses Hatter, "did you see an exit back there?"

"Yes, and both the Knight and Froud must've gone through it. I imagine they must be long gone by now."

"Very well," Malice says. "We can exit and circle back around to retrieve my dress, then head back to the castle, where I shall partake of a little black rose to revitalize myself. Oh, and before I forget, I must take this blasted thing off!"

She rips the mustache off. There is a bit of a delayed reaction, three seconds or so, before she squeals in pain.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Back at the castle, Malice attempts to spend some time with Humpty, but he begs off, saying he wants to be alone. She had been hoping that the Black Rose Kiss would loosen him up, but instead he seems sullen and embarrassed, and after grabbing some paper and water, he leaves the castle to she knows not where. Soon after, Malice is informed that another note awaits her, sent by another mysterious carrier pigeon. She retreats to the writing desk in her chambers to read it in private, but not without first partaking of some of the black rose's solace. It gives her the courage to read:

For Queen (M)alice's eyes only.

I see that you have not smashed the statue yet. This pleases me greatly. Surely you realize that the longer you allow the statue to remain, the more of a fixture it shall become. With each day that passes, it grows more and more beloved. I'm sure you are becoming more used to it as well, and more resigned to its existence.

Why, it shall become a permanent fixture, an unending, silent mockery that only you comprehend! You dare not ever reveal its true nature, because of course you must save face. So instead, you shall have to gaze upon the face of the statue, so serene and noble that it puts the real thing to shame. Wouldn't you love to smash it to bits with a mallet? And yet, you are too afraid to do so. Because people would gossip, wouldn't they?

Oh, and I know of your fondness for the black rose. Soon you won't be able to quit it. What if I told you, that by smashing the statue, I shall reveal where you can find more? Hmm?

Ah, the delectable torture of my plan grows! With that, I shall leave you in suspense. I continue to hope, in my solitude, awaiting you from afar, praying you shall one day come to me and release me from my prison.

Until then, I can only speak to you through these messages, my dearest little queen (M)alice.

Sincerely,

He whose heart you hold captive

P.S. I suggest you burn this message after reading.

Malice screams and rips the note into pieces.

She finds it all quite insulting, and wonders who this "secret admirer"—more like "secret stalker"—could be? The Queen of Hearts? Well, she's imprisoned in the dungeon with supposedly no contact with the outside. So, perhaps it's a sympathizer of the Queen of Hearts. Or it's the Snark or someone working for him, like the former Cook. Who knows? Maybe it's Morley, or someone else she wouldn't immediately suspect, toying around with her and seeking petty revenge without ever revealing themself.

Well, she refuses to fall for whoever-it-is's obvious ploy to make her lose her composure and destroy the statue, with the obvious goal of making her look like some sort of unraveled weakling. After all, she is in control of her emotions, thanks to the black rose.

Yes, the black rose—the note had mentioned it, obviously appealing to her desire for it.

Ha ha, it might have worked if I hadn't just planted a whole bunch of seeds, so I shall have plenty if I ever need them, which I probably won't. I don't think I'll need the black rose anymore—it helped me through the hard times, but I'm past that now, and I can cope just fine now without it.

She sets the note aflame and goes about her business.

Her guards inform her that Sleepy B has spoken to her father. He gave her permission to go on the quest, but refuses to reinstate Sleepy B's storytelling powers. Malice only hopes the girl doesn't turn out to be more trouble than she's worth. It's just another matter to add to the pile weighing on Malice's mind. She is also concerned with the Jabberwock and getting to the bottom of what he knows—no more evasions.

Another one of her chores, before leaving on the quest, is to talk to the Tweedle twins to see if they want to come along—Malice decides she shall talk to the Jabberwock tomorrow, during the trip to the twins' tree.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

They're walking along a trail in the forest, heading to the oak tree where the Tweedles spend most of their time, bickering.

Malice had asked the Jabberwock to come with her—just him alone, because, frankly, she'd like to to talk to him. Also, it would've been awkward to invite Humpty, because he's been avoiding her, it seems, ever since he received the Black Rose Kiss. He's still going on the quest though, so they'll have lots of time to get comfortable around each other, again.

Malice stops walking. "Jabby, we need to talk."

The Jabberwock sighs, but it doesn't sound quite right—which Malice figures is due to the fact that his severed head is not connected to lungs. He stops walking and says, "About?"

"I recently spent quite a distressing bit of time with Froud. He had a lot to say on the subject of little-girls-goodbyes. He seemed quite knowledgeable on the subject, even sang us a few."

The Jabberwock groans. "Those songs are for children. You shouldn't put too much stock in them."

"And yet Froud seemed to think there was a great deal of truth in them. Even the Knight was familiar with many of the songs—songs that you've never mentioned."

"Well we haven't known each other very long."

Malice holds up her hand to silence him. "I asked the others—Humpty, Hatter, the Cat. You've rarely if ever talked to them about them."

"It's...not something I like to talk about."

"Why do you not fly, Jabby? Is it true that none of the jabberwocks can fly?"

"Aye." He tilts his head to look down at the ground.

"Why can't they?"

He shrugs the Horseman Body's shoulders. "Our wings just aren't capable."

Malice sighs. "Jabby..." she prods in a gentle voice. "Honey...I hate to make you uncomfortable, but if we're going to go on this quest and visit Jabberwock Valley, I need to be informed. I'll respect your privacy and won't tell the others unless you give me permission, but I'm the Queen, and the leader of this group—I don't want my ignorance to compromise our quest. Do you agree?"

The Jabberwock sighs, but nods his head. "Aye." He raises his head to look Malice in the eyes. "The reason the jabberwocks can no longer fly is a great shame of my monsters."

"Your monsters?"

"We say 'my monsters' like humans say, 'my people'."

"Oh."

"So, a long time ago, a bunch of human-sized little girls were banished from..." He thinks for a moment, with his brow furrowed.

"From where?"

"I can't seem to recall right now, for some reason. But the basic fact was that they were banished and they moved to Jabberwock Valley. When they got to the valley, they so much wanted to be big girls, that they used magic to transform themselves into giants. And then the giant little girls captured the jabberwocks and kept them as pets."

"Oh, dear," Malice says. "How big were the jabberwocks, in comparison with the giant little girls?"

"The jabberwocks were the same size we are today. But in comparison to the giant little girls, we were like little lap dogs."

"Awww how cute!"

The Jabberwock scowls.

"Sorry, didn't mean to offend your monsterliness."

"Okay. Unfortunately, that was part of the problem."

"What was?"

"The cutesiness factor."

"Pray tell, what is that?"

"I'll get to that. The little girls treated the jabberwocks like we were little cats or doggies." He sneers. "And, though the jabberwocks could fly back then, precautions were taken to prevent our escape, like closing the windows of their houses."

"Oh my!"

"Indeed! The jabberwocks resented no longer being wild monsters who could fly free, but, well, they became domesticated, I suppose."

"Did the jabberwocks hate the giant little girls?"

"Well, not at first—they gave my monsters food after all. But I think the jabberwocks resented them for limiting their freedom."

"Well that's understandable. I quite fancy freedom myself."

"But over time, the resentment grew. Even from the beginning, the jabberwocks were forced to sleep beneath the beds of the giant little girls, and never allowed to sleep on them."

"Oh, how dreadful! Why, the top is the softest part!"

"Quite."

"Why did the girls do that?"

"Maybe they did it to prove to themselves that they were no longer afraid of monsters under the bed. Or maybe they did it to mock my monsters, to show that they were no longer concerned with having jabberwocks under their bed, because they were no longer proper monsters, no longer scary."

"Oh. That would be a terrible thing for a monster to have to endure."

"And there were more atrocities. The giant little girls would dress the jabberwocks in all these colorful, cutesy, frilly clothes!"

Malice gasps. "Deplorable."

"Yes, and as time went on, it grew worse and worse. And my monsters' resentment grew and turned into hatred, and there was talk of revolt, but compared to the giant little girls' size, the jabberwocks were like..." He's thinking of what to say.

"Lapdogs," Malice offers.

"Well lapdogs aren't fierce warriors, but there was also the fact that the giant little girls had taken away the jabberwocks' vorpal blades, so they weren't as fierce warriors as before..."

"Maybe they were like bobcats."

The Jabberwock thinks. "Perhaps so. In any case, long story short, the jabberwocks decided they no longer wanted to be pets, but the giant little girls didn't want to set them free. So the jabberwocks got together and revolted. And there was a great war between the jabberwocks and the giant little girls."

"Crikey!"

"Yes, it was a dark time. The two sides fought, and many lives were lost. In fact, each side was in danger of being wiped out completely!"

"That's horrible!" Malice exclaims.

"Indeed, imagine if my monsters had been wiped out. Why, I wouldn't be the one standing here telling you this legend today!"

Malice thinks upon that, but feels confused.

"Don't think about it too much. Just nod."

Malice nods.

The Jabberwock says, "Both sides came to realize that if the fighting continued, it would be disastrous."

"Oh my. So what happened then?"

"They came up with a solution, a way to end the war, and prevent further bloodshed. A final battle between each side's champion."

Malice's brow furrows. "Champion? I'm not sure I understand."

"Each side chose one fighter to represent them. They'd fight each other, and whoever's warror won, well their side would be declared the winner of the war."

"High stakes," Malice says in awe.

"Quite. So the jabberwock fought the giant little girl. They were each great warriors, as well as magicians. And without getting too complicated, that duel itself was enchanted."

"Enchanted how?"

"Since each warrior was a champion of their group, the fate of each fighter was bound to the individual members of their group in some ways."

"Um, huh? In what ways?"

"It's complicated, so I don't want to get too much into it. But it's important to know, for what happened..."

"So the champions fought?"

"Yes, they did. I could tell you blow by blow what occurred—all jabberwocks are told from a young age, but I'll keep it short. At first it seemed like the jabberwock champion would lose. After all, the giant little girl was so much bigger than him."

"He must've been like a brave lapdog."

The Jabberwock gives her a look.

"Sorry," she says.

"At first, the jabberwock was losing, but then he cast a spell that shrank the giant little girl warrior down to the human size you're more familiar with."

"Oh, so now the jabberwock was bigger than the giant little girl."

"Yes, and she was no longer a giant little girl. She was just a little, little girl and you remember what I was saying earlier about how, it was an enchanted duel, and the fate of the champions was tied to the jabberwocks or girls they represented?"

"Sort of," Malice says. "I think, maybe I understand a little."

"Well, when the girl champion was shrunk, the magic rippled outward, and all the giant little girls were immediately shrunk to human size."

"Oh, wow, but if that's the case, then it makes it seem like the jabberwock was picking on a little girl, no offense."

"Actually no, the shrinking actually made it a more even fight than before. You see, one of the little girls outside the battle circle tossed their champion a vorpal sword. And the jabberwock had one too, so it was a fair fight."

"Oh my!"

"Yes, so the two warriors fought. It wasn't a duel to the death—they were trying to make their opponent surrender or get knocked out. Well, during the fight, the little girl champion cut both of the jabberwock's wings, but she held back, since she didn't want to permanently unwing him."

"Oh, no! So could he still fly?"

"No, and that was the moment that changed my monsters forever. Because of the enchantment of the duel, when his wings were cut, the magic rippled outward, and all the other jabberwocks were immediately rendered flightless, even though, to look at them, they were uninjured. And to this very day, no jabberwocks can fly."

"Oh, that's horrible! But I think the jabberwock champion must've still won the duel, right? Because the jabberwocks are free, right?"

"Yes. The jabberwock champion did indeed go on to win the duel—the little girl champion surrendered. And so the jabberwocks won their freedom and made a life for themselves in Jabberwock Valley. And from that day forward, they vowed never to sleep under a bed ever again, and that's why now, jabberwocks all make a point of sleeping in a bed every night and being grateful for it."

"What happened to the little girls? Were they slaughtered? I know how much the jabberwocks hate them."

"No, after the duel, they went their separate ways. The little girls never unshrank, so they all joined regular-sized human families. Ever since the war ended, jabberwocks and little girls have lived together in the valley. There is still a lot of hatred on both sides, and constant conflict, even though there is no official war."

Malice sighs. "I've heard so often, how much the jabberwocks hate little girls, but the fact of the matter is, that you're the only jabberwock Wonderland has ever known, and from what they tell me, you were always sort of sweet to Alice. And also, I've seen you being affectionate with Sleepy B, and she's a little girl, as well..."

The Jabberwock sighs. "I've always been considered strange, because I've always been...less vicious to little girls than most other jabberwocks."

"Nice. I mean, sometimes you're downright nice."

The Jabberwock nods. "It's just that I've always tried to see the inside of people, and judge them on that rather than what species they are. Oh, and when I say, 'see inside people', I'm not talking about ripping them open and seeing their entrails."

"I figured. Don't tell the Cat, though—he'll only be disappointed."

The Jabberwock chuckles. "I've always felt that we can't just keep holding on to what happened in the past. Even though, as a jabberwock, I'm not supposed to think this, I've always had hope that someday little girls and jabberwocks can live in peace."

"Awww. Would they cuddle, like I've seen you and Sleepy B doing?"

The Jabberwock pulls a face and the Horseman Body squirms uncomfortably. "I wouldn't call it cuddling."

"You're a sweet monster, Jabby."

"Oh, stop. You're gonna make me blush."

"That would be cute."

"Arrgh! So, now I've filled you in. I trust you'll keep it to yourself."

"I shall."

"Very well, let's go chat with the twins, then."

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

When Malice and the Jabberwock approach the oak tree where the Tweedle twins spend most of their time bickering, they see the two chubby twin boys seated at a table in front of the tree.

As they get closer they see that Tweedledum and Tweedledee are playing a game of checkers. Next to the gameboard sit two toy rattles. The two brothers are intensely focused on the game—they haven't noticed Malice and the Jabberwock approaching at all, so that now Malice is looking down at the board behind Tweedledee, the Jabberwock is behind Tweedledum, at least that's who Malice thinks it is—it can be tricky telling the two brothers apart, at times. She does notice that Tweedledee is wearing a whistle by a string around his neck, while his brother isn't.

Malice stares at the brothers, feeling awkward. They both look so focused, each boy like a mirror image of the other—each staring down at the board with a serious expression, each with their elbow upon the table and their chin resting on their fist.

Malice doesn't want to interrupt their thoughts, until one of them makes a move, but now the moment has gone on quite too long—why, neither brother has barely moved at all!

Are they breathing? Should I perhaps check their pulses?

But now, finally, Tweedledee removes his hand from his chin and moves one of the checkers on the board. "Was that a gambit?" he asks his brother. Tweedledee startles a little as he sees the Jabberwock. "Blimey! Gave us a fright!"

Tweedledum, meanwhile is still looking at the board. He says, "Gambit? You're thinking of that term that's in chess. And what's so scary about it?"

Tweedledee says, "I was referring to the Jabberwock there. And also, 'checkmate' must be the term from chess you're thinking of."

Tweedledum says, "Contrariwise, I was thinking of 'gambit'. And jabberwocks aren't pieces in either game." And now he looks up and sees Malice. "My Queen!"

Tweedledee raises his hands in triumph. "Yes! Checkmate!"

Tweedledum groans. "A checkmate is when the king is trapped, and I was referring to the Queen, behind you."

"No," says Tweedledee. Now he says like he's speaking to an idiot: "And you were referring to the game of chess, remember? And in chess, the Queen is out of play if she's not on the board. Unless there's a special exception when the Queen is behind the player."

Tweedledum lifts his hands in exasperation. "Even if there was, it would be irrelevant, because we're playing checkers."

Tweedledee scowls. "Then why bother, you dolt, to bring the Queen up?"

Tweedledum says, "Because she's behind you, you dunce!" And to strengthen his point, he points at Malice, who's (still) behind Tweedledee—she's smirking, and wants to laugh.

Tweedledee says, "Crikey! She is?" And he points straight and looks into the branches above.

Tweedledum lets out a shout of frustration. "Why are you looking up, you nincompoop?"

"Because you said you'd brought her up."

"You said that, and you weren't being literal."

Tweedledee mulls that over for a moment. "After further consideration, I've come to the conclusion that you're correct that you didn't say she was above me. I never should have doubted you. So the Queen is behind me, you say?"

"Quite," says Tweedledum.

Tweedledee strains his head to peer over his own shoulder—Malice grins at him—and he proclaims, "Oh! My Queen. So good to see you." He stands up and his brother stands as well. Tweedledee curtsies at Malice while his brother bows—but Malice doesn't like to quibble about the proper formalities.

Now Tweedledee points to the Jabberwock behind Tweedledum and says, "Her Highness is not standing behind you as well."

"That's a queer way to put it," Malice mutters.

So now Tweedledum turns to look behind himself—when he sees the headless body, he gives a little jolt of surprise.

"Down here, lad," the Jabberwock says, from his perch in the Horseman Body's hand. He grins. "I'm borrowing this body until I can find one more suitable."

Tweedledum says, "Ah, very good!"

Malice says, "Yes, we're going on a quest to Jabberwock Valley, where we're more likely to find a spare jabberwock body, and also we have to warn the jabberwocks about something. That's why we're here—to talk to you about joining our quest group."

Tweedledum says, "Well we've been waiting for you to show up!"

"Ditto," Tweedledee says. "Waiting forever."

"Contrariwise, we've been waiting less than forever."

"Oh why must you always contradict me, brother?"

"Nohow, that's absolutely untrue! We sometimes agree, like we agreed on the terms."

"Terms?" Malice says.

Tweedledee says, "Yes, we agreed on three terms we require if we are to accompany you on your quest. So terribly sorry to impose."

"Ditto," says Tweedledum. "We hate to be a bother, but we couldn't agree on having an absence of terms."

Warily, Malice says, "Very well, let's hear 'em, then."

"Well..." says Tweedledum. He wrings his hands and appears woefully uncomfortable. "I hate to impose, but I should like to bring my rattle." He points at one of the rattles on the table. "Again I hate to bring it up."

"Up?" Tweedledee points up, like he did before. "And I should like to bring mine."

Malice doesn't bother to correct him, she merely nods. I wonder if he's still confused from before, or if he's newly confused. "Will you be rattling often, because that could become bothersome."

Tweedledum says, "Most certainly not, for that would only alert any foes to our presence."

"Also, it would get in the way of holding a sword," the Jabberwock offers. "Believe me, I know the inconvenience of constantly having to carry an object in one hand."

Malice sees the Cat's head appearing in its semi-transparent way next to the Jabberwock.

Tweedledee says, "There is the second term that we both agreed on. Again we hate to impose, but at least it's not as much of an imposition as the first term."

"Here I am," says the Cat, whose head is floating fully solid now. "Hope I didn't miss anything violent."

"Hello, furball," says Tweedledum. "Will you be going on the quest as well?"

"I shall," the Cat says.

"Will you be searching for a body as well?" Tweedledee says.

"I have a body, I just never show it, because I don't want to be beheaded."

"Perfectly understandable," agrees the Jabberwock.

"But," Malice says to the Cat, "you acquired your whole body-less persona because you feared the Queen of Hearts. I'm Queen now, and have no intention of beheading you."

The Cat turns his nose up in the air. "Yes, well you've been known to lose your temper. You killed me once, remember?"

"Yes, and I've apologized for that."

"Hrrmph. You know, I do like bloody violence, but not on me."

"Again I apologize."

"Alright. But I shall keep appearing bodyless."

"Very well, then," Malice says. "The twins were just informing us of their three terms if they are to join our quest."

Tweedledum says, "My Queen, I mean no disrespect, but I must correct you. We were discussing the three terms we both agreed on."

Malice's hands form into fists, and she resists the urge to yell, "What's the bloody difference!" She only chewed a little bit of the black rose over six hours ago, so she doesn't feel as calm as she'd like. I really should take a double dose, perhaps, to take the edge off, but then I might run out!

Malice grits her teeth. "Sorry, I'm in a bit of a foul mood. But do go on—I recall you said the second condition is less bothersome than the first?"

It better be, or I might end up beating you both bloody. Stupid twins, with your stupid phrases.

"The second condition," Tweedledum says, "is that we shall be alloted an hour every day before breakfast, for us to duel."

"Oh dear!" Malice exclaims.

"Not to the death," Tweedledee says to calm her.

"Oh," Malice says, and presses her hand to her chest.

"I'm somewhat disappointed," says the Cat, "though I suppose I consider you two to be friends, and don't wish you to die...I suppose."

"We shall duel in various ways," Tweedledum says.

"I concur," says Tweedledee.

"What ways?" the Jabberwock says.

The two brothers exchange glances.

"Wooden swords, some days," says Tweedledee.

"Or pillows," says Tweedledum.

"Checkers, like today."

"Chess, on other days."

"But we don't mix those two."

"Except on that one day when we did."

"Which was a disaster, which is why we don't do that anymore."

"We've done foot races."

"And also handstand races."

"Enough examples!" Malice shouts. She immediately regrets losing her temper.

The Tweedles' jaws clamp shut, so at least it was effective.

"My apologies," Tweedledum says, and bows.

"Likewise," Tweedledee says, and curtsies.

Malice sighs. "So you two have to be allowed to duel every single day. Well, so long as you don't bother the rest of us, I suppose—"

Tweedledee makes a face as if he is sorry for imposing. "My apologies again, Your Highness, but there is another condition on the second condition."

Malice sighs, trying to calm herself. She wipes her forehead nervously. Cor blimey, I really need some more black rose right now, to keep me from going unhinged! "And what, praytell, is that?"

Tweedledum says, "You are to be the judge of each duel, and must declare a winner. You are also to watch over the proceedings to make sure there is no cheating."

"Ditto," Tweedledum says. "And if you catch a cheater, you are to have him executed, in the most painful, drawn out, yet...appropriate manner you can come up with."

Tweedledum says, "Poetic. It should be poetic."

"Poetic?" Malice says.

Tweedledee says, "Yes, like for example, in this game of chess, if you judged one of us to be a cheater, you might have him be sentenced to have each of his limbs tied to a very heavy, large chess piece on an oversized board, thus, as the pieces are moved about, various limbs would be torn off."

"Brilliant!" the Cat declares.

"That's a bit much," says the Jabberwock.

Malice squeezes the bridge of her nose between her thumb and finger. "So it all falls on me? And that's supposed to be less imposing than the first condition?"

"Oh, without a doubt!" says one brother.

"Ditto!" says the other.

Tweedledum says to his brother, "Though, we were playing checkers, not chess. I thought you'd come to understand that, dimwit."

Tweedledee looks mightily offended, and sits there with a perturbed expression for several long moments. He points at his brother. "My Queen, I propose that my opponent cheated when he attempted to bring the Queen into play during a game of checkers, which is not allowed!"

"Contrariwise! I merely announced the Queen's presence! And she's an actual queen, not a chess piece!"

"Aha! So now you're back to saying it's chess! Make up your mind!"

Malice groans. I really should've taken a full dose. Note to self to do that as soon as I get back to the castle.

"Whoa, whoa!" the Jabberwock says. "No one cheated."

Tweedledee places his hand on his hip. "Who are you to judge? You're not the Queen. Now, Your Highness, do you judge that my brother cheated? Also, how would you like him to be executed?"

Malice pinches the bridge of her nose again. "He didn't cheat. He shall live to see another day."

The Cat chuckles, and though Malice should appreciate his laughing at her quip, she's actually irritated by it.

"There you are," Tweedledum says. "It has been officially decreed that I did not cheat. Now, Your Highness, if you'd be so kind, please judge the winner of our duel." He gestures with his hand at the checkerboard.

"Ditto."

Malice looks at them in disbelief.

"Lads..." the Jabberwock says warningly, as he watches the anger increasing on Malice's face.

"It's a game of checkers!" she shouts. "The winner is not 'judged'. There are rules of play that guide the game, and then at the end, the winner is declared in an obvious, unquestionable manner! You numbskulls! Here!..." She bends down and swipes all the pieces off the board with her arm.

"Malice!" the Jabberwock says.

The Cat chortles and says, "Oh ho ho! Look at her go!"

Tweedledum, with a cringey expression, says, "Well how can either of us win, now?"

"Contrariwise, we both shall lose now."

"Nohow, brother, it must be declared a draw."

"Enough!" Malice shouts. "I've about had it with you two! But praytell, what is your third condition? I have a morbid curiousity to know! I suppose it's less troublesome than the first and second conditions?"

"Most certainly," Tweedledee says.

"Ditto," says Tweedledum. "The third condition is that, whenever we duel with those other than ourselves—"

"Such as with loathsome foes," his brother offers.

"Yes, such as with loathsome foes—during such battles, in the interest of fairness, each brother shall be allowed one minute to fight the villain, before switching off with his twin. The timing of each minute shall be conducted by Her Highness."

"Oh, of course it shall be," Malice says.

Tweedledee says, "So you agree?"

"I was being sarcastic."

Tweedledum says, "Yes, well all joking aside, we devised that solution, because we have a bit of a sibling rivalry—"

"You do?" the Cat says.

"Yes. And we each don't want the other to gain more glory from battle than the other, you see."

"Quite understandable," Malice says, being sarcastic again.

"Who would go first?" the Cat says. Malice shoots him a glare, but he continues, "In your battles. How would you determine whose turn is first?"

"Coin toss," says the one brother, at the same time his brother says, "Scissors rock paper."

They glare at each other.

Malice touches her hand to her forehead and shakes her head. "It just gets worse and worse. Am I to stand there as one of you fights, timing it with a stopwatch?"

The brothers nod. One says, "Quite," the other says, "Ditto."

Malice says, "And when I tell one of you to stop fighting, what if the villainous foe decides to attack me because I'm standing there like a loon watching a bloody stopwatch?! Oh, dash it all. Don't even respond, you're just sucking me into your idiocy!"

The brothers glance at each other, but don't speak, seeming not to want to anger her further.

Malice lets out a scream of frustration. "Alright, you've laid out your three conditions. Now, Jabby and I came here to talk to you about—"

Tweedledee raises his index finger in the air. "Begging your pardon, but we've only told you the three conditions my brother and I both agreed upon."

Malice grits her teeth. "Yes, that's what I said."

Tweedledee says, "It's just that there are conditions my brother and I did not agree upon."

Tweedledum crosses his arms. "We didn't agree on the conditions because they give him special privileges and are not equal between the two of us."

Malice sighs. "I do hope it shan't take too long to explain, as I must go back to the castle for my medicine. But again, my morbid curiousity... What is your condition, Tweedledee?"

Tweedledee says, "I hate to have to bring this all up." He points upward again. "But, you see, it has to do with my rattle. I shall need to carry my whistle for calling my rattle, as well as the antidote in case things go awry. My brother thinks I should carry neither."

"Quite," Tweedledum says.

"Wait, what are you talking about?" Malice says. "There's an antidote to your rattle?"

Tweedledee says, "Well, there are two sides."

"Two sides?" Malice says. "You mean to say there are two sides to every story?"

"Two sides to the tale," Tweedledum says.

Malice is getting irritated again. She says, "If a tale has two sides, it might be a lie."

Tweedledum looks confused. "Well it does lie, but it's not a lie, nor is it a tall tale, and because he can't speak, he's not a tattle tale, either."

"More of a rattle tale," says his brother. He points up into the tree.

"What, for the love of Pete are you prattling about?!" Malice screams, full of rage.

"Prattling about rattling," Tweedledum says.

"Rattle snake!" the Jabberwock blurts.

"But he's not a prattle snake," Tweedledum says, "because as we said, he can't talk."

"But he's an amazing rattle," Tweedledee says. "He comes when I blow the whistle." He blows it.

Malice and the Jabberwock shriek.

"Why did you do that?" the Jabberwock says.

"There's a rattle snake?" Malice screams. She looks around frantically, even into the tree branches but sees no serpent.

"He likes to show off his rattle," Tweedledum says, "but there are two sides of his tail."

"And the other side is venomous," Tweedledee says glumly.

Malice hears a rustling amongst the leaves above. She catches a glimpse of a large snake slithering along one of the branches.

"This I shan't abide!" Malice shouts.

"Do not be alarmed!" Tweedledee says. "That shall only make him more likely to bite!"

"I'm just curious," says the Cat, "as to why the snake comes when you blow the whistle."

"Envy," Tweedledee says. "He yearns to blow the whistle himself, so whenever I do so, he can't stand it, and he always approaches me to try to steal it. It is also when he shakes his most impressive rattle." (There is more shuffling in the branches.) "And also, he has on occasion bitten me. But don't worry. I have the venom antidote in my pocket." He reaches in his trouser pocket. Then he reaches in the other. "Goodness, where is it?"

In horror, Malice watches as a very large rattle snake coils down the tree trunk. As she watches in horrified fascination, she stammers, "I said— I, uh—we, came here to talk about uh—"

"Perhaps I should flee," mutters Tweedledee.

The Jabberwock, completing Malice's sentence, says, "About joining...."

(The snake is about halfway down the trunk.)

"Yes," Malice says. "We wanted to talk about the possibility of you two joining the quest group, and what we wanted to say is that we don't want you to. Well, ta ta!"

Malice and the Jabberwock begin walking briskly in the direction of the castle.

The Cat says, "I believe I shall stay, and see what happens."

The snake rests on the ground in front of the tree, now. It raises its head up in the air and shakes its rattle.

Malice feels she is a safe distance away, so she stops and watches it, listens.

"There it is!" Tweedledee exclaims. "My rattle, much more impressive than his."

"And more deadly," Tweedledum says. "But don't worry brother, I think he used up all his venom when he bit you this morning. It takes them a while to replenish."

Tweedledee meets the Jabberwock's and Malice's eyes, says, "Well, I must run. Best of luck to you on your quest." He turns and takes off running.

"Stay safe!" the Jabberwock calls.

The snake hisses and slithers after Tweedledee.

"Ta-ta!" Malice calls. "Good luck not being bitten."

The Cat says, "I would hate to see him killed, but a good biting would be a thrill to see!" And he zooms after the snake.

"Bad kitty!" Malice calls.

She watches the group get farther away. Several seconds of awkward silence follow.

She looks at Tweedledum, who is sitting calmly. He says, "My brother got a bit carried away in his effort to get the better of me." He picks one of the rattles from the table.

"Is that one your brothers'?" She's pointing at the other rattle.

"Contrariwise. It used to be, but he felt he needed a better one to compete with mine. Envy, eh?"

"Indeed," Malice says.

"But I had a feeling he might be wanting his old rattle back, so I've been keeping it for him, considering how his choice of a new one has come back to bite him."

The Jabberwock and Malice chuckle.

Tweedledum shakes his rattle. It's a respectably functional rattle, but in recent comparison to the rattlesnake...

"How underwhelming," she says.

"I'm sorry to disappoint, Your Highness. Best of luck on your quest. Good day to you, Queen and Jabberwock."

Malice and Jabby both say their farewells.

Malice adds, "And remember what I said about you not joining our quest." She mutters to herself, "Crikey, I really need that black rose."

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

As soon as Malice gets back to the castle, she takes another dose of about one and a half times the usual. It immediately calms her and makes her less vicious. It also makes her feel quite pleasant in that ironic way of being "drunk on darkness". It's good medicine, she decides, but she's running dangerously low, and needs to start gradually cutting down, to get her body used to it. After all, she'll be far from home and might not be able to easily attain more of the black rose, and the flower she has now is looking quite plucked and she fears it might even wilt and die.

But she expects the black rose plants she planted to be shooting up anytime now—it might be a while until she can harvest them, but at least they can carry the plants on their quest.

But until they ripen, she'll have to cut back some.

The rest of the day is spent getting ready for the quest. The Red Queen takes over as acting Queen of the castle at noon. There still haven't been any sightings of the Snark or former Cook, so they may have to set off on their quest without dealing with them. The next day has been set aside for festivities and celebrations for Malice and her teammates. They will set out on their quest the day after that at the break of dawn.

In the afternoon, the Cat shows up to tell what happened with the Tweedle twins.

Tweedledee was bitten several times, but the snake had already run out of venom, so Tweedledee wasn't poisoned.

"It was thrilling to watch," the Cat says. "He howled bloody murder. Bitten twice in the arm, and again in the neck. I felt sorry for the poor sod. Nonetheless, it was thrilling!"

"So you said," Malice says.

"So the Tweedle twins won't be attending the festivities, as the bitten bloke is lying in bed, recovering, and his brother won't leave his side. You know how much they despise being apart from each other."

"Of course."

After their conversation, Malice asks the Cat to accompany her to check on the black rose seedlings she planted. He's the only one she can trust with the knowledge of its existence.

"They're there, behind the barrier." She stops short, because all the flowers outside the black roses' area are wilted and drooping. "Oh no!" she exclaims. "Those other flowers were perfectly healthy this morning!"

"Can you ask them why they look so poorly?"

"No, they're the non-talking sort."

She kneels and peers over the wooden barrier at the four black rose seedlings. The tiny sprouts are all flopped over, looking wilted as well. "They're not thriving!"

"You watered them?"

"Of course! Maybe I watered them too much or too little?"

The Cat says, "Perhaps. Maybe they don't need water. Maybe they don't even like sunlight! I've heard it said that they're very different from other flowers."

"I've heard that as well, but nobody knows how to care for them."

"Perhaps they're like the opposite of most flowers that grow on water and rich soil. Perhaps they're like parasites that suck the life out of other flowers..."

"You think the roses made the other flowers wilt?"

"Well, were the other flowers okay before you planted the roses?"

"Yes. I think you may be right."

"Perhaps the black roses feed on the misery and woe of other flowers, which would make them pretty impressive."

Malice says, "Maybe they prefer to be alone and killed the other flowers to free up space."

"Or they're jealous of the other flowers' colors, or maybe they're just dumb plants that are poisonous or something. Who knows?"

"But the black rose seedlings aren't faring well either! This is horrible! Oh, I can't run out! I don't want my heart to malfunction!"

"Plus you seem to enjoy its effects on your mind."

"What do you mean by that? It calms me. It effects my mind by keeping away murderous thoughts. Oh, dear, oh my! This is a disaster. Should I water them more or less than before?!"

"Who knows?" the Cat says. "They're black roses, perhaps you 'water' them with the blood of virgins."

"You're being a smarty cat, but for all I know, it's true! What should I do? I know, I shall transfer them to individual pots, and water them the same, decrease their light, and hope they come around. Because, if they don't, I shall be in a sour mood when I run out!"

"Quite," the Cat agrees.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

When Malice awakens in the morning, most everything is prepared for their quest, and the four black rose seedlings sit in pots in her chambers—they don't look much improved from the day before.

She's dreading more and more that she may run out of her medicine within the next few days. At least if she runs out, she'll be forced to stop and learn how to cope without it—she doesn't want to use the medicine as a crutch, after all.

Unfortunately, a lot of the effects of the black rose wore off during her sleep. She doesn't want to be cranky during her last day of festivities—she doesn't want to seem ungrateful. So, as a compromise, she takes a half dose of black rose, and prepares for her fun day of parties and games.

When she makes her way to one of the dining rooms for breakfast, a guard card tells her that another message came for her by carrier pigeon.

She dreads reading it, and even contemplates waiting until the end of the day to do so. Why ruin the mood the black rose is bringing? The fact that her dose was only half strength is all the more reason to cherish it.

But she fetches her magnifying glass, unfurls the paper, unseals it. She steels herself to read the message.

As usual, it reads on top: For Queen (M)alice's eyes only.

If you are reading this, it means you haven't smashed the statue yet. I do hope its continued existence is upsetting you greatly. I hope the realization that you are too cowardly to destroy it with your own two hands makes you realize how weak you are, weak of both character and strength. The idea of it giving you inner turmoil pleases me greatly. And know that the longer the statue is allowed to exist, the more of a fixture it shall become, so that year after year it shall wear upon you, and you shall be tortured by the notion that you did not destroy it near the beginning.

But enough of that. I wish to further inform you that inside the statue's head is a map providing the location of a grove of black roses. Why, you ask? Because I know how shall we say, "fond" of the flower you are, so I thought it would be jolly good fun to hide the map in the statue. Only by breaking it can the map be retrieved. But, of course, you won't, will you? You just don't have the gumption. What would people think if they found out? You'd be scandalized. And so, instead, you shall sit and stew, and I shall stand by secretly and relish. Have you figured out who I am yet?

I hope someday soon, that all barriers between us can be removed, so that I can reveal myself to you. But my fate rests in your hands... I yearn for the day you shall finally come to me, and allow me to wrap my arms around you. Oh, how I wish I could just whisk you away, to a place where both our hearts can be free!

Sincerely,

He who yearns for your caress

P.S. I suggest you burn this message after reading.

Her hands are shaking badly now, her thoughts racing.

"Blast it! Who are you!" she shouts to no one, alone in her chambers.

Some coward, hiding, toying with me. A map to black rose locations? How obvious! And obviously a lie, a trick to make me smash the statue!

Anger swells in her, barely contained by the measly dose of black rose. She burns the message, and tries to forget it and focus on the partying and festivities.

It's a long day of goodbyes and fun, the last hurrah. It's all quite exhausting, really. And it's really not the best of days to be cutting down the dose of her medicine, because by midday she's feeling glum and edgy—but it would be terrible for her to go unhinged on this day when everyone is going out of their way to be nice to her. She mulls it over, and decides that if she's going to have to go through the withdrawals of abstaining from the rose, it's better to do it during the first few days of their journey, when at least her misery and unhappiness will be understandable, and almost expected.

But, on this day, she owes it to her friends and loyal followers to be festive, so after lunch, she takes the last of her black rose, trying not to think how she'll be feeling tomorrow, hoping that the black rose seedlings turn around and start thriving. The last of her black rose amounts to a double dose. As soon as she takes it, she feels calm and at peace, and a dopey grin creeps up her face.

Ah, back to the festivities!

And she plays croquet and cards, eats pastries and cakes.

There is however, much unfinished business. There has still been no further information concerning the Snark or the former Cook. And no one knows where the Knight and Froud have gone off to, either. And Sleepy B seems sadder throughout the day every hour that her father doesn't visit her—they still haven't made up. And things have been awkward between Humpty and Malice ever since the kiss.

But the festivities must go on, and go on they do. And Malice has quite the pleasant time of it, "under the influence", as it were.

But as the hours go by, the intensity of that feeling diminishes and she is loathing the dreadful empty feeling of waking up the next morning without the black rose's soothing comfort to help her through the day.

And still there is the so-called "secret admirer's" message nagging at the back of her mind—the possibility that if she breaks the statue, she'll be led to more of the black rose.

It's a trick. Surely it's a manipulation to make me break my statue, and mock me for it.

In disgust, she finally burns the message in mid-afternoon.

Good riddance. I shan't play the fool for that practical joker.

But as the afternoon drags on, she feels more anxious-she needs more black rose for the anxiety, but of course, she has none. By the time the dinner feast arrives, she is full of dread—she can no longer keep the thoughts from her mind—though she plasters a fake smile upon her face.

What if it's true? I know it's probably not, but what if it is? I have to take the chance, because I need any chance I can get to avoid a day without black rose.

And a part of her knows that she's being foolish—that the black rose still in her system is dulling her logic, but that part is dampened by the intoxication, and there is a part that simply hopes, hopes for a miraculous solution to her woes.

And so she rushes through the dinner—she begs off partying into the night because, she says, she must wake up early tomorrow to begin her journey.

If I sneak off alone, I can destroy the statue without anyone knowing it was me. I can act outraged and blame unknown vandals. And if there really are directions to more black rose, I shall keep them for my eyes only so I can stave off ever running out again!

And so at the twilight hour, she sneaks off to the statue.

She finds the mallet hidden in the tree—fumbling in her intoxicated state. She enters the clearing and stands in front of the statue. In the dimming light of twilight, the sun causes it to cast a long shadow upon her as she looks up into its porcelain eyes, as she glares at it.

She reads the words carved in the tablet the statue holds. "Better to try and fail, eh?" she says to it.

The statue doesn't respond—nor does she expect it to.

"That's a dig at me, isn't it?! Well I've had enough of your mockery...that smug impression. I shall try to knock your head off first, then smash the rest of you to pieces, you piece of junk! I've had enough!" The black rose is dampening her anger, but there is still quite a bit bleeding through—however, she should strike while the iron's hot—so, she gives forth a shriek of rage and swings the mallet up toward the statue's cheek and misses entirely—the mallet flings out of her hand and she drunkenly falls over.

Well that was embarrassing. Good thing no one was here to see that.

She picks up the mallet, gives another shout, swings another swing and this time the mallet slams into the statue's cheek with a satisfying crash of breaking porcelain mixed with a clank of metal on metal. White pieces of porcelain fly everywhere, but metallic silver is revealed in the lower mouth area where the porcelain has broken away—the blow totters the statue to the side, but it doesn't fall over, and wobbles back to an upright position.

Malice drops the mallet and stares curiously at the metal chin—at least, that's what it looks like. The upper part of the statue's face is cracked but still intact. Is there some sort of metal frame underneath? When I decided to break the statue, I assumed it was either hollow, or solid porcelain, and I would smash it to bits—a metal frame wouldn't smash as easily.

The head of the statue makes cracking noises and now the head turns side to side as cracks form and pieces drop off.

Malice gasps.

A metallic silver head is revealed with the face of a man, and he smiles down at Malice. Oddly, his facial features are set into the metal itself. A man made of metal? Or an automaton of some sort. Cracks form at the statue's elbows, now at its shoulders and its arms move—one arm punches up, slamming the statue's tablet against its head, revealing more metal underneath.

The man sets about striking the statue's body and royal gown—pieces of the broken porcelain fall away, revealing more of the metal man's body.

"Who are you?" Malice says.

"Hold on just a moment, love," the man says.

And upon closer inspection of his face, Malice now realizes that his jaws move on a hinge when he speaks.

He stands now with a wooden stick in his right hand—it had been inside the statue's scepter. In his other hand he holds some sort of iron object that had been inside the former tablet.

"What were you—" she starts.

"Crikey! Lay off will ya?" He steps off the platform, walks backward a few steps—his hinged joints creak, as if they're in need of oiling.

Malice stands with her arms crossed but remains silent.

The man made of metal presses the iron object in his hand to the top of the wooden stick and screws it on—he now holds an axe with a wooden handle.

Malice gasps.

"I'm the Tin Knight, Alice."

"I'm not Alice," she says while taking a couple steps back.

"Don't bother running, unless you want an ax in your back. I have very good aim."

"Why were you inside the statue?"

"I was waiting for someone to smash into its face so I knew it was time for me to come out of my shell. I assumed it would be you, and you'd be alone, because I masterfully manipulated you with my notes, didn't I?"

"So there's no map to the black rose?"

"No, but I assumed after I learned that you'd begun taking black rose, that you'd be craving more."

Despite the danger she's in, Malice can't help feeling curious, plus, the longer she can engage him in conversation, the greater the chance that someone might happen by, so she asks, "How did you send letters when you were inside the statue this whole time?"

"I wrote the messages ahead of time, making certain assumptions about what would motivate you, what would compel you to come out here alone and smash the statue. Seems my plan worked, Alice. Queen Alice now is it? My how things change."

"I told you, I'm not Alice. I'm Malice, Alice's twin."

He shrugs. "You look like Alice to me. I think you're lying, but whoever you are, you have my ticktock heart in your chest and I want it back."

"What?! Yours?! But—"

"Don't worry. I'm not going to tear it out of your chest. My orders are to bring you back intact."

"You can't take me! My guards and friends shall find you!"

"But you're a thief! You're being extradited to face your charges."

"I didn't steal it! It was given to me, by someone—they claimed they had made it."

"I wonder if everything you say is a lie. You didn't know the heart was stolen? Is that why you sent inquiries throughout the land seeking me? Thank you for that, that's how I found out where my heart went off to. I came here, found out you became a queen. The chief decided you'd become too powerful and it was time to bring you in, thief!"

"I told you, I didn't know it was stolen when I first got it. I—"

"Yes, you didn't personally steal it. I'm sure you sent one of your servants—perhaps you didn't bother yourself with the details, didn't concern yourself with the poor sod it came from. Do you truly know nothing about me? Nothing about the torment I went through to get that ticktock heart?"

Malice shrugs meekly, trying not to anger him, and wanting to stall for time. "I'm so very sorry. Please tell me."

"Bah. I doubt you truly care. Although, now that you have that heart, perhaps you do. But it's been malfunctioning lately, hasn't it? That's because it wasn't designed for a little girl."

"Crikey! Again I get called a 'little girl'!"

"It was designed for me. I earned it with my heartbreak, whereas you simply stole it. What happened to the one you already had, you greedy scamp?" He removes an oil can from his belt. "Apologies. I get a bit stiff sometimes. But I happened upon a fellow knight in black armor who gave me this super-oil. Better than regular oil, he said—said it will really strengthen my joints—his own invention, he said."

"I'm not greedy!" Malice snarls.

"Greedy and lazy. Another girl who stole my heart. That's how I became heartless in the first place—a girl. She manipulated me into cutting off my body parts, which were replaced by metal. Then she told me to give her my heart. Which I did, because I loved her so. Then she ran off with it."

"Oh, I forgot myself..." He squeezes the oil upon one elbow, then the other (a bit awkwardly while holding the ax, but he doesn't set it down). He bends his arms back and forth and grins, but suddenly his arms lock in place in a bent position. "What's this?" He struggles, but he can no longer bend his arms at the elbows. "What?"

"You got the oil from the Black Knight. His 'inventions' tend to be rubbish. Of course, the oil has strengthened your joints, I suppose."

From off in the distance, the Jabberwock is shouting, "Malice? Are you there?"

"No, no, no," the Tin Knight mutters while shaking his head. He drops the oil can, but keeps hold of his ax.

Malice chuckles, calls out, "I'm here! I'm in trouble. Hurry!"

"I'm coming!" the Jabberwock says.

Malice says to the Tin Knight, "Best scurry away. You won't be able to fight with your arms like that."

"Bah!" He backs away from her. "This isn't over, Alice."

If I can keep him talking long enough, perhaps Jabby shall arrive in time to capture him. "I'm just curious," she says. "Did you never get your original heart back?"

He turns partway toward the dense woods behind him. "No. I had to visit a powerful wizard, who gave me my ticktock heart. You might've gotten a heart from him too, if you weren't so lazy. He might even give your Jabberwock friend a body—he does that sort of thing." He turns fully around now, his back to Malice.

"I'm coming!" the Jabberwock calls, closer now, but still far enough away that the Tin Knight has a good chance of escaping. Everything shifts into the dark of night as the sun slips below the horizon.

With his back to Malice, the Tin Knight says, "If I were you, I wouldn't go on your journey into the wastelands, Queen Alice, because the chief will be watching for you."

"Well he'll leave us be if he knows what's good for him."

"You assume it's a 'he'. How sexist."

"Female, then? A human woman?"

"A girl. And she hates you."

"Her name?"

"Dorothy."

And with that, he flees into the forest, hidden in the darkness of nightfall.

THE END. Thanks for reading. To stay informed of future releases, simply subscribe to my newsletter by visiting loteyrose.com

Have you read the previous trilogies in the Malice in Wonderland Saga? If not, you owe it to yourself. Read the first Malice in Wonderland Trilogy, and the Malice Hates Fairy Tales Trilogy!

Lotus, or Lotey, as he keeps trying to get people to call him, lives in Austin, Texas, where he attended the University of Texas at Austin. He invented the corruptagram, a symbol he hopes will someday be banned in public schools. He enjoys Newcastle Brown Ale and gothic music.

His website is at~ loteyrose.com

Also by Lotus Rose, the first Malice in Wonderland Trilogy

Alice will have her heart returned to her even if she has to kill everyone in Wonderland one by one...

The truth is not what you were led to believe. Alice never left Wonderland. It wasn't all "just a dream."

It's a nightmare. A nightmare she can't escape, where formerly pleasant characters throw her unhappy unbirthday parties to torment her, while others like to make her cry so they can lick her tears.

But one day after years of this unpleasantness, she loses her heart. Literally. Well, technically someone steals it.

And she has to get it back. By any means necessary. And it's a lot easier to be ruthless now that she's heartless.

Also by Lotus Rose, Machoponi: A Prance with Death, the first book of The Poniworld Chronicles

In this "children's book for adults," MachoPoni has no choice but to enter the Dark Kingdom, where the undead ponies roam. He must rescue Dust, the poni he loves from the dark princess's castle, using wit, creativity and his magic bouncy blue ball to survive.

A twisted parody of My Little Pony, The Care Bears, and other 80's staples. Warning: contains gore and mild sexual content.

Note: Other volumes in the Poniworld Chronicles are now available. They're called Mein Poni-Kampf: A Biography of the Leader of the Nazi Ponies, My Brootal Poni: A Very Butch Poni Tale, and Dust in Your Eyes: An Erotic Poni Tale.

Also by Lotus Rose, SinEaster, the book that started the Twisted Holiday Specials

Like a naughty Easter version of The Nightmare Before Christmas mixed with Charlie and the Chocolate Factory... On the day before her 18th birthday, Charlee wasn't expecting to be transported to Easter Land. A princess informs her she must compete to decide which of three creatures will be the future egg deliverer. But a man tied to a dark holiday known as SinEaster is also aware of her arrival.

For more info about all my books, visit http://loteyrose.com/bookinfo.html

Books by Lotus Rose

More info at loteyrose.com

The Corruption of Innocence, The Doll Queen, Poniworld Chronicles, Faerie Brace-Face Trilogy

Twisted Holiday Specials

SinEaster

Merry XXXmas, Charlee Frown

BlackHearts Day

Gothic Lolita Series

Gothic Lolita

Gothic Lolita 2: Heirloom

Gothic Lolita 3: Pageant

Malice in Wonderland Saga

Malice in Wonderland Prequel

Malice in Wonderland #1: Alice the Assassin

Malice in Wonderland #2: Alice the Angel of Death

Malice In Wonderland #3: Alice the Girl Who Will Tear Your Heart Out and Show It To You Before You Die

Malice Hates Fairy Tales Trilogy

Jabberwocky Trilogy: Book One

Jabberwocky Trilogy: Book One: Sing Me a Little-Girls-Goodbye

Copyright © 2017 by Lotus Rose

Cover art copyright © annmei/123RF Stock Photo (http://www.123rf.com/profile_annmei)

Lower cover background design © smeagorl/123RF Stock Photo (http://www.123rf.com/profile_smeagorl)

Discover other titles by Lotus Rose at loteyrose.com
