“Whatever?” I ask.
As she nods in response, the door bursts open with the help of a battering ram. Both courts pour in from the outer hall. Even the clams and zombie flowers have found their way through the hole in the wall.
Soon, I’m surrounded by a celebration of creatures both winged and wily, left to decide my own fate for what feels like the first time in my life.
“What will it be, Queen Alyssa?” Ivory asks.
I bend over to pick up Morpheus’s hat and place it on my head over my crown, tilting it at an angle. “Let us feast.”
In the realm of humans, a proper high tea would’ve better served negotiations between two kingdoms trying to reestablish peace, but watching my albino ferret friend pound the roasted goose into submission, and seeing all my guests plunder the giggling main course for its succulent, aromatic meat, I know I made the right choice.
The maniacal laughter, smacking lips, and uncivilized conversations provide a comforting backdrop while I square away things with my new royal friends. I sit at the head of the table with Ivory on my right and Grenadine on my left and catch a floating bottle of wine sent my way by the woolly-headed netherlings at the other end. Pouring a glass for myself, I toast them, then take a long drink. The flavor of berries and plums rolls down my throat, thick and sweet like honey.
Dad wouldn’t approve, even though this is nothing like the wine at home. All I know is, I need something to warm the chill in my chest that hits each time I see Morpheus’s fedora on the arm of my chair—the red moths fluttering with the movement around me.
Morpheus’s sprites share my grief. They bob and weave around the table like hiveless bees, unsettled. Gossamer hangs limp from the chandelier above, crying inconsolably.
Rabid White entertains Grenadine with a joke while passing a plate of moonbeam cookies. The ribbons on her fingers that reminded her of her king’s whereabouts and the skeletal netherling’s betrayal mysteriously flew off when we first sat down to eat. I tuck the red bows beneath my leg to be destroyed later.
Rabid has sworn a vow of loyalty to me and whomever I choose to rule in my stead while I’m gone. Grenadine will need an experienced royal advisor, and I have no reason to doubt his devotion after everything he did to see me crowned.
“You are resolved in your decision?” the Ivory Queen asks me.
“It’s better this way,” I answer, touching the necklace around my neck. This key is mine to keep. A ruby embellishes the top, in honor of my kingdom.
“You should know …” Ivory lifts a crystallized candy, sucking on one end. “Since you’re a half-blood, the realm in which you live shapes your form. Your wings and eye stains appeared here but will vanish within hours there. Your powers are eternal but will become dormant if neglected. The more you avoid reminders of your stay in the nether-realm, the more human you’ll become.”
Nodding, I take another sip of wine to ease the ache in my stomach. I smooth out the dress Grenadine gave me after I cleaned up—a red strappy one-piece with black hearts, spades, diamonds, and clubs appliquéd just above the knee-length hem. The black petticoats rustle under my hands. She offered boots, but my arches are killing me, so I’m barefoot.
Attending an important political dinner only half-dressed. I couldn’t do that in the human world.
I never thought I would feel so torn about going home. Then again, I never thought this place would feel like home. “I want to experience everything that Alice missed out on,” I finally answer Ivory.
“I understand. Your heart belongs in the mortal realm for now, with the knight you told me of. He sounds very brave and noble.” A dreamy look passes over her face.
A pang of sympathy hits me. She’s always been so isolated—Morpheus must’ve seemed like a dream come true. Even if she can’t find the right guy, there are other ways to curb her emptiness, friendships she can forge. Maybe she just needs a nudge in the right direction.
I glance over at Grenadine, whose mouth glows with moonbeams as she laughs, oblivious to us. “While I’m gone, would you and Grenadine meet once a week or so? Eat together, play croquet, whatever you like. You know, to keep foreign relations balanced. You could take turns hosting …”
Ivory’s beautiful, icy features warm at the thought. “Of course.”
“And you might take the sprites back to your castle. They’ll be lost without Morpheus.”
The queen smiles sadly. “Yes. They will. I would be glad to take them in.”
We both pause as the conversation around us turns to stories of Morpheus’s antics throughout his life. The dinner guests snort and smile upon each telling—a transparent ploy to cover their sorrow.
I look down at my plate.