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  The Enchanting

  Wonderland Book Three

  Rebekah Lewis

  For Elizabeth Evans, who dearly loves Wonderland.

  Contents

  I. Wonderment

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  II. Enchantment

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Books by Rebekah Lewis

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All characters, themes, locations, and aspects from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland as well as Through the Looking Glass, and What Alice Found There belong to Lewis Carroll. All mention of historical figures and Lewis Carroll himself are used in a fictious way and do not represent the author's personal beliefs.

  Copyright © 2020 by Rebekah Lewis

  Edited by Sandra Sookoo

  Cover Design by Victoria Miller

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  www.Rebekah-Lewis.com

  Part I

  Wonderment

  "Let the Looking-Glass creatures, whatever they be, Come and dine with the Red Queen, the White Queen, and me!"

  -Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass

  Prologue

  Red.

  Everything was red, as though awash with blood. Like someone had left violent strokes of it with a brush across her vision. Adelaide, the White Queen of Wonderland, cried out and pressed the base of her palms against her eyes as she fell to her knees. The scurry of those around her rushing to her aid blended with the concerns expressed in voices she couldn't pinpoint as her vision was taken over by crimson.

  The fragrant scent of roses filled her senses and pain pounded against her skull, between her eyes. Dread, frozen like ice, sat heavily in her gut, spreading outward to consume her. People were touching her now, but she couldn't open her eyes. Laughter broke through the voices, and oh it sounded so much like her sisters…

  But her sisters were gone.

  Wilhemina, the Queen of Hearts, had been executed for her crimes against the realm. Her head cleaved off like she had ordered done to innocents for no reason other than sick amusement. Matilda, fierce and quick-witted, the most beautiful of the three of them. Before her banishment, she had plotted and schemed to take over Wonderland and perhaps even do harm to her own flesh in blood to do it. She had been the Red Queen.

  Red.

  Matilda couldn't return to Wonderland, and without the realm, her madness would ease and leave her to live out her life without such burdens. The new Red Queen hadn't been in Wonderland long enough to suffer from any such madness.

  But Adelaide herself…

  The premonitions used to be quick images showing her things that were to come, but lately… they attacked her with flashes of color and gripped her within intense feelings of rage, of sorrow, of dread.

  Whatever loomed in the near future, it had chosen Matilda's favored color as the means to torment her. Perhaps, it was grief at losing her sisters forever. Perhaps it was guilt to have sent her away and stayed here instead of leaving with her. She had always feared losing herself like her sisters and becoming cruel. The fear increased each time the red visions came. The surge of conflicting emotions. Were they at war? What if the wrong one took over by the end and she was lost?

  Whatever it was, the episodes were becoming more frequent. Red. So much Red.

  The Red Kingdom was soon to throw a grand masquerade ball, and even without suffering from visions and dreams for most of her life it didn't take much thought to assume whatever happened may well occur during that event. The question was…could she be brave enough to face it, or would she hide away in her castle?

  She didn't know, and that frightened her worst of all. She'd never seen herself as one who hid away, but much more of this and she would be forced to take to her bed until whatever happened came and went. How did one fight an attack to their mind they could not control?

  "Your Majesty?" Words began to make sense to her ears as the red faded from her vision and the pressure in her head started to dim. Adelaide lowered her hands and looked up at her husband, Nathanial, and into his kind, dark eyes.

  "My love," he said bringing her into his arms. "They're getting worse. Are you sure there's nothing I can do?"

  "Be here for me," she whispered and clung to his shoulders as though she'd sink away without him there. "I don't know what I would do without you by my side. Don't let me become lost." With her sisters gone, she had no one else. The madness was getting worse. The grief, the guilt, the sorrow, or whatever it was. It was getting worse. Without him, nothing in the entire realm of Wonderland mattered to her anymore.

  Chapter 1

  The silver, ornate frame around the full-sized mirror belonged in a horror film. Gothic, ancient and twisted, the knotted scrollwork never revealed a discernable design. Most likely the original glass attached to it, age had left brown and purple splotches behind, marring an already a gaudy antique with even uglier colors. A lot of restoration would be required to sell the mirror unless a buyer specifically sought the object, which still wouldn't explain its sudden appearance in the most prominent spot of the showroom if one had. Hopefully the item wouldn't remain in the shop long.

  "You're letting in flies. Close the door!"

  April Evans snapped her gaping mouth shut and stepped fully inside the antique shop, the little bell on the door jingling with the movements. She worked there on weekends when she didn't have classes at the small community college in the next town over. Since she didn't want to be burdened with student loans forever, and she was doing the best she could.

  The shop owner, one Ms. Matilda Scarlet, gestured her closer. Her long, black hair was pulled back in a slick, high ponytail, and dust had left a streak of gray across her delicate cheekbone. She smiled at the mirror—a full, toothy, maniacal grin—and then turned to face her. "I've been hunting for this mirror ever since I arrived in this damned place," she said when April moved beside her. "Isn't it wonderful?"

  Er... More like hideous. April nodded. "Sure." No reason to argue with her boss. Ms. Scarlet didn't appreciate disagreements of any kind, a lesson quickly learned and understood in the past. So now, April picked her battles. If it wasn't worth arguing, she didn't bother. Made life easier. The woman paid her a great deal more than minimum wage for only two days a week, and bluffing about whether or not she liked an antique here or there was worth it.

  Ms. Scarlet strolled behind the cash wrap, leaned down and then pulled out a leather-bound sketchbook she often doodled in when customer flow was sluggish, which happened often in a small town. Weekends were busiest with tourists passing through and stopping to shop after seeing the signs near the highway.

  April ran her finger over the frame's elaborate scrollwork. "Have you been searching for this mirror for a client?" Her curiosity got the better of her, and something about it seemed…foreboding. Maybe it had fallen and crushed a person, who now haunted it. The mirror certainly looked haunted.

  Ms. Scarlet shook her head and flipped through the pages as April moved next to her. "No. T
his is a personal piece." Interesting choice, since Ms. Scarlet tended to go for simple and elegant. With a lot of deep reds. This seemed more horror show extravagant than posh.

  "Then why did you bring it here? Won't people be interested in buying it?" Please, let someone buy it. How long would she have to look at such an eyesore?

  At this, her boss snorted. "If anyone knew what this is, they'd sell their firstborn for a chance to own such a unique device."

  Device? April glanced at the mirror and back to Ms. Scarlet. What was she missing? "A really old mirror would be that big of a deal? Who owned it, the Pope?"

  "It's not just a mirror," her tone was sharper now. The questioning must've irritated her, so April would have to tread lightly to keep her in a pleasant mood. Ms. Scarlet held up the sketchbook and pointed at a drawing of a mirror with a similar frame surrounded by briars and budding roses against a stone wall. If antiques didn't bring in enough cash for the woman, her art skills might pay bills on the side. "It's the mirror, well…one of them. This is the one used by that blasted, insufferable little twit, Alice."

  Alice? Her confusion grew exponentially since the only Alice known for a connection to a mirror was a fictional character. Surely, she didn't mean it was the mirror from Through the Looking Glass. Ms. Scarlet didn't seem the type to believe in flights of fancy. "Okay, but did it belong to someone important?"

  Ms. Scarlet slapped the book closed and slammed it on a table in a huff. Trinkets on the shelf behind her trembled from the vibration. "This mirror belonged to the Liddell family, who acquired it shortly before they moved to Oxford in 1856."

  April blinked.

  Ms. Scarlet seemed to expect a different reaction, and when none came, she huffed out a breath and rolled her eyes and began explaining, with no attempt to disguise her impatience, "Charles Dodgsen, whom you may know as Lewis Carroll, wanted to buy it from Alice Liddell's parents, but they refused, intending to keep it a family secret. None of the other siblings had been able to use it, you see."

  April didn't, but she nodded.

  "Later, when Alice and her sisters, Edith and Lorna, took a tour of Europe together, Prince Leopold became quite taken with Edith. She'd tried to impress him by telling him the family secret. This made Alice very interesting to him, and he'd wanted to impress her as well, but she saw through his machinations. Shortly thereafter, the mirror disappeared from the Liddell home, without a trace."

  Well, that was interesting for sure. April always did enjoy learning the history behind antiques, even if this one had a bit of fiction entwined with fact. "Did Leopold steal it?"

  "Of course he did, keeping it in a private collection—the location of which has never been revealed."

  "So how did you happen upon it?"

  Ms. Scarlet stood straight, an arrogant tilt to her chin made her seem taller than usual. "I owned its twin once. It used to hang in a chamber in my castle, locked away so nobody entered through it without my knowledge." A glossy, far-away look appeared in her eyes. "The vines from my red roses climbed the tower walls, into the room with the looking glass. They intertwined with the frame, holding it firmly to the wall. Standing guard."

  Ah, the castle. April could never tell if Ms. Scarlet was telling the truth that she'd lived in a castle earlier in her life, or if maybe she had just come from a well-off family and they referred to their mansion as such. She was from another country, or her parents were. Probably England judging by her accent, but April had never pried because Ms. Scarlet's past seemed to make her irrationally cranky if asked about it. Then her thoughts returned to the mirror and the idea that this one really had a twin. "There's more than one?" April shuddered at the thought.

  "Of course there's more than one! Pay attention. It's the looking glass, you silly girl. With this mirror, one can travel to Wonderland." Her tone implied that only a fool wouldn't recognize that.

  "Wonderland?" April snorted. "Like, talking caterpillars and the Queen of Hearts? You expect me to believe this mirror…" April gestured wildly at the eyesore. "…is a doorway to a fictional world?"

  Ms. Scarlet turned a remarkable shade of her own name. "Why is it Wilhelmina and her penchant for beheadings is the one who is oft remembered, yet I'm not?" She took a long, deep breath and placed a hand across the mirror's glass. Maybe the lighting was playing tricks, and maybe staying up until three in the morning writing an essay on Wuthering Heights hadn't been the best decision, but the glass seemed to ripple under the woman's hand.

  Don't buy into the fantasies. April had learned at a young age that reality never gave way to magic and fairy tales. There's no such thing as Wonderland. Ms. Scarlet was a loon, nothing more. Perhaps this was the fate of anyone who spent all their time surrounded by old objects that she longed to know the stories behind. For such an imposing mirror, it wasn't hard to picture it being a doorway to a fantasy world. Unfortunately, things like that didn't happen in real life. April turned toward the backroom, realizing she hadn't even put her bag away and clocked in, and knocked into a table holding an ancient-looking chessboard. Pieces toppled over, some scattering to the floor. She quickly dropped down to collect them.

  "I can send you there," Ms. Scarlet whispered.

  Stopping, she peered over her shoulder at her boss, who hadn't noticed that April had made a mess of the chess set, or if she had—didn't care. Ms. Scarlet stroked the blemished surface of the mirror. The warped glass made it appear to shudder at the touch, but that was more likely just her overactive imagination. "I think I'm good, thanks." She set the chessboard to rights, lining up the red and white pieces, and frowned. She was missing one. April squatted to search under the table to see where it rolled off to, but the white king was nowhere to be found. Shrugging it off to hunt for it later, she stood and then walked into the backroom and office, setting her bag in the little locker with her name on it. There weren't locks on the door, but no one ever came in there, and she was Ms. Scarlet's only weekend employee.

  "Think about it." The words floated into the backroom. Obviously, the woman wasn't going to drop this nonsense. How long would she keep it up if April never fell for it? "Tomorrow, if you don't wish to go and see it for yourself, I'll move the looking glass to my apartment, and you'll never have to see it again."

  And good riddance to it.

  Marchy rolled over to his back and sighed contentedly as the woman in bed with him giggled and rubbed the hair from her eyes. He always enjoyed a visit to one of the castles. True, if he was discovered lying with a woman, he'd be forced to marry, but discretion was his specialty. He also knew which women should be avoided at all costs and picked his conquests with care.

  "That was exquisite, Harold," the woman said, and his good mood faded. He despised his name. Though, to be fair, he had forgotten hers entirely. She leaned upward, resting her face in her hand and stared down at him with bright amber eyes and a mess of golden waves.

  He didn't direct her to use his nickname. It was best she used his formal name, as it was far less intimate despite what they'd done moments ago. He had a full life and didn't need matrimony. It was bad enough that Hatter had gone and found himself a bride who always imposed on their teas and chats. Marchy was still trying to acclimate to her presence and didn't need to deal with another new addition who'd be more than a visitor. He had enough stress.

  A series of excited squeaks broke the silence, and suddenly a little brown dormouse came tearing up the side of the bed to rest on his chest, squeaking all the more. His bed partner scrambled away, squealing, and Marchy sighed once more, this time with relief. Hawthorn was his pet and his lookout. He was trained to break up any awkward conversation or snuggling session to keep Marchy safe from discovery, or worse—forming attachments.

  "Well, darling, it appears we're in danger of being caught." They weren't. Hawthorn was more discreet in case his presence caused a woman to panic, loudly. This was a purely routine rescue, bless him.

  "There's a mouse!" the woman shouted.

  He sighed
again and patted the dormouse's head. "Hawthorn would prefer if you'd keep your voice down, if you please." Marchy sat up, and the little creature hopped onto the short bed post behind him and sat, watching as the woman hastily pulled her dress back on.

  She left moments later without so much as a goodbye, and that pleased Marchy just fine. "Thanks," he told the dormouse. The creature chittered at him as though to say it was the least he could do.

  In case the woman was one of the more determined types, the ones who thought they could force him into matrimony despite their dislike of Hawthorn, Marchy quickly dressed himself and then set the bed to rights. Scooping up the dormouse, he deposited him into his jacket pocket and took a glance in the mirror to run his fingers through his shoulder-length, dark wavy hair before donning his top hat. Two long rabbit ears poked out from the sides of the hat, which Hatter had fashioned in a way that wasn't a discomfort for them. They were a soft shade of brown, similar to his skin tone. They were also the saving grace, he felt, for why he hadn't been caught in a marriage trap yet.

  Many women avoided halflings all together even though his appearance wasn't as outlandish as others in his species. His children could end up with gills or snouts, mayhap claws or a beak. Halflings were a gamble many women didn't bother with as they each took on one stray beastly attribute, and in many cases, a skin tone that matched that part. He was lucky he'd only ended up with a set of peculiar ears and had his good looks, or he'd go longer lengths of time without bed sport.