Splintered

“Jerk!” I lunge with an open palm, but Morpheus catches my wrist in midair. The impact rattles my bones and shakes my bruises.

“There’s that fire.” Morpheus cocks his head, the expression on his face somewhere between amused and impressed. “Nice to see it still burns.”

“Hands off, you son of a bug!” Jeb struggles against the smoky cuffs, face turning red as he growls with the effort to get to us.

Chuckling, our captor bends low over me, keeping hold of my wrist. “Oh, I do like him,” he murmurs. “Such a wordsmith.” He’s so close that his smoke-tinged breath seeps inside me—sweet as honey and binding as spider’s silk—a comfort from my childhood. “As for you … is that any way to treat an old friend? After all we shared? Tsk-tsk.”

I’m tempted to lean closer, to seek more of the seductive sensations. But the desire is not mine. He’s manipulating me somehow. He has to be.

I thrash against him. His fingernails dig into my glove, making my wrist throb.

Black eyes glitter, frigid and harsh, behind his mask. “Stop fighting and listen. Your mum didn’t have to turn her back on me. She didn’t have to go to the loon-house to protect you.”

“Wait.” An alarm goes off inside me. “You’re saying she chose to go there?”

“All she needed was a few miles of distance between you. She could’ve arranged a divorce, moved to the other side of town, given your father full custody. But she loved you both too much to hurt you like that. She wanted to be a part of your lives … yet still keep you safe. So she sacrificed her life. That is the purest of loves.”

“You’re lying.” My accusation comes out on a wisp of air.

“Am I? You’re the only one I’ve ever reached quite so young. You and your mum had a bond, stronger than any I’d ever encountered. I was able to use her dreams as a conduit into yours. When she realized what I was doing, she went mad. But that was only temporary insanity. Let there be no doubt—the Alice costume, the tea party obsession, the tongue clucks, talking aloud to the bugs and flow-ers—every tic she developed was orchestrated by her, so she would be kept away from you. Out of respect for her sacrifice, I vowed not to approach you myself again.”

“You broke your word, then,” I whisper.

“No. There was a loophole, you see.” The knuckles on his free hand graze my temple. His touch is warm and delicate. “You found me. Since you were the one to seek me out first, you released me of the bonds of the promise. Clever, clever girl. Now you’re here to set things straight, aren’t you, little plum? To fix what Alice put wrong. Make Wonderland right again, and you’ll break the curse that’s on your family name. The talking bugs and flowers … the ties to this realm. You will no longer be under their spell. At last, your mum can stop pretending to be a raving lunatic, because I’ll have no more need for any of your lineage.”

My chest hurts, as if someone used my heart for a punching bag. That’s why Alison said those things in the courtyard … that if I went through with my plan to find the rabbit hole, she’d have done it all for nothing. She put herself through years of overmedicated humiliation and horror because she hoped to keep me away from here. Then I went and ruined everything by searching Morpheus out.

Which makes what my dad and the doctors are pla

“My fault,” I whisper, trying not to cry. “Everything that’s happened to her … my fault.”

“Al, don’t let him guilt you!” The rustle of Jeb’s clothes as he strains against the cuffs barely registers.

Morpheus tips my chin up. “Yes, bear no guilt. Because you discovered the rabbit hole and were brave enough to leap inside. You’re the only one who’s ever had such cu

A loud snap cracks the air, and Morpheus breaks his hold on me. I rock back on my heels. The sprites screech as Jeb’s restraints break free of the mushroom.

Jeb rolls on the ground and whips his legs around. The broken cuffs—still attached to his ankles, neck, and wrists—trail him like a scorpion’s coiling tail, and catch Morpheus in the spin, slamming him to the ground. The impact knocks off his hat and evaporates the smoke, leaving both guys wrestling in a tangle of wings and limbs.

Jeb straddles Morpheus and cinches his fingers around his neck. “I told you not to touch her.” His deep voice is hoarse yet calm, making the hair on my neck stand on end.

Morpheus makes the mistake of laughing, and Jeb snaps. One hand clutching Morpheus’s neck, he punches him, crumpling the red satin mask. Morpheus twists his head to dodge the strike. His wings lie wrinkled and hapless beneath him.

My muscles tense. I’m at war with myself. A part of me wants to defend Morpheus—to plead his case with Jeb; the other part roots for Jeb to beat him to a puddle. I bend over, temples throbbing as I drown in a sea of distorted memories and disjointed emotions. The sprites whimper and swarm in the branches above. They’ve obviously never seen their master attacked by anyone.

Morpheus thrusts his knees out to knock Jeb off and they spin through the neon grasses, leaving a flattened trail. This time, Morpheus ends up on top. His wings enfold them like a tent. The outline of Jeb’s face appears, pressed against the black satiny membrane on the other side. A sucking motion reveals an imprint of his mouth.

He’s suffocating.

I burst through my mental haze and launch into Morpheus, toppling him. He rolls on the ground, wrapped within his wings like a pupa.

Dropping to my knees, I lower my face to Jeb’s. His breath warms my nose, slow and even, but he won’t open his eyes. “Jeb! Wake up, please …” I drag his shoulders onto my lap to cradle his head.

Morpheus stands and dusts himself off.

“What did you do?” I scream.

He repositions his crumpled mask, then draws each wing over his shoulders and runs his palms across them, checking for damage. “He’s merely unconscious.” Putting his hat back on, Morpheus touches the handprints on his neck, eyes darkening. “It was a kindness. I could’ve killed him.” He snarls. “Should’ve, actually. No doubt I’ll rue that decision.”

Glancing up at his harem, Morpheus motions the sprites down. “Take the pseudo elf back to the manor. Wake him from his slumber. Make him feel welcome as only you can.”

Gossamer is the first to descend from the trees. There seem to be even more sprites now. Following her lead, they drop down in torrents, a glimmering rainfall.

“No!” I throw myself across Jeb. I slash at them with my fists. On Gossamer’s command, they collide with my arms and ribs at full speed, stinging like hail. I refuse to move until Morpheus snatches my collar and forces me to my feet.

My writhing in his grasp only makes him more resolute. His arm winds around my waist, as hard and strong as a metal clamp. He holds my back pi

“Jeb!” I shout. Tears blur my vision when he doesn’t respond. “Be careful with him.”

The tiny females are only able to carry him a few inches off the ground, and the long grasses bend under his weight as he’s dragged from the clearing. Some of the remaining sprites tug the backpack behind the procession. When the last stretch of grass pops up in their wake, I shove against Morpheus and break free, though it’s only because he lets me.