White Roses a.b

chapter 21

Ash was still staring after the Jabberwock, the stick clutched in her shaking hands, when a shadow of feathers and bells dropped from the sky. Andy grabbed her shoulders. His gloves carried the memory of soft quills before they were leather once more.

'Are you all right?' he asked, breathless.

'N-no,' she stammered. Her eyes were full of the horizon and the memory of the Lion's body, all grace and muscle, so quickly taken. So easily defeated.

Hatta was there too, then, in the corner of her vision. 'Come,' he ordered, shoving the two of them towards the forest. 'Let's get to safety, in case the beast comes back.'

'The Lion . . .' Ash's voice cracked with a sob.

'I know,' said Hatta. 'I saw.'

Hatta ushered her past Haigha, whose eyes were glistening with tears. She heard Raven's wings beating behind them. She spotted the Turtle's shell past the Crossroads door. Everyone was waiting for them on the other side, clustered together on the black-and-white tiles. Their frightened eyes began to turn away when they realized that one of their party had been lost.

The Crossroads felt too quiet, too ordinary, too safe after the horrors of the glen.

'He's gone,' Ash stammered. 'He . . . he saved me.'

'He was a king among beasts,' said Jest. It sounded like a memoriam.

'He was indeed,' said Hatta. 'Some might call that a checkmate.'

Ash put up no argument when Andy offered to take her home. Though there was a sense of protection in the Crossroads, with its mismatched doors and access to all corners of the kingdom, as soon as they stepped on to the shores of Squeaky Creek, Ash felt the same terror wash over her.

Hearts was not safe. The Jabberwock was real and it was here and they were not safe.

'My lady,' said Andy, his voice heavy. They had hardly spoken once the other guests had scattered and headed for their own homes. Even Raven had seemed happy to abandon them, flying off into some unknown corner of Hearts. 'I am so very, very sorry. I put you in danger. I—'

'You had no control over the Jabberwock.' She stopped and turned to face him. The creek burbled behind her. 'Did you?'

Their hands were intertwined and had been the entire walk, but it didn't seem as romantic as it had when they had left her home earlier that evening. Rather, there was a need pulsing through her fingertips. For touch. For security. She felt safe with him there, whether or not it was warranted.

'If not for me,' said Andy, 'you would have been safe in your bed, and wouldn't have had to witness something so dreadful.'

She looked down at their fingers. Hers so pale against the black leather of his glove.

'Perhaps tomorrow, when my senses are clear, I will feel that the whole night was a mistake. But I don't feel that way now.' She took in a long breath and raised her eyes again. 'Monsters notwithstanding, I enjoyed my first real tea party.'

A ghost smile flickered at the corners of his mouth. 'And I enjoyed taking you to one. Monsters notwithstanding.'

'Then let us not end our night with talk of dreadful things,' she said, and though there was a sting of guilt at her words – how could she dismiss what had become of the brave and gallant Lion? – it was refreshing to think back on the music and the hats and the tea that had come before.

'As it pleases you, my lady,' said Andy, and he, too, seemed willing to think of more pleasant things. He tugged her up the bank of the creek. 'I didn't have a chance to compliment your performance. The macarons were marvelous, just as you said.'