We step back through the portal to find the room exactly how we left it, minus the tea party guests who traveled through the portal with us in the first place. White is still sitting in the same spot, constantly checking his watch. What he sees in that watch face, I have no idea. I plan on asking him that soon. Cheshire has his feet up on the table again, a toothpick sticking from the corner of his lips. He looks incredibly bored as he flicks open a pocket knife over and over again. Tweedledee and Tweedledum sit further down the table, as motionless as statues. Dum blinks, and I’m reminded that they are, in fact, alive and not just wax figures of the twins. No one is talking or paying attention to each other.

White looks up as we walk further into the room. When his eyes land on the Queen, he jumps from his seat, quicker than my eyes can follow. He sprints across the ballroom towards us. Cheshire looks at him quizzically before he notices the Queen. He stands, too, pocketing the knife before he walks across the room in our direction at a much slower swagger than White. The twins show no emotion whatsoever. They just watch blankly. Doesn’t seem like they care about the old Queen then.

“White! Cheshire!” the Queen exclaims, opening her arms wide.

White walks right into her embrace, but instead of being able to hug her, he walks right through her. It startles me so badly that I squeak before I remember what Hatter had said. She’s essentially a ghost. No one will be able to touch her.

White looks stricken for a moment before he gathers himself, straightens his waistcoat, and smiles.

“You look lovely as ever, your majesty.”

“Yes,” she giggles. “Death does wonders for your appearance.”

White frowns, but he doesn’t comment. Cheshire stands a healthy distance away, watching.

“Cheshire.” She smiles at him. She doesn’t try a hug again as she looks at him fondly. “How I’ve missed you all.” She glances towards the Tweedles. “Even you two.”

The twins nod their head cordially but don’t respond. The queen dismisses them, not giving them any more of her attention.

“Come,” the Hatter says. “Let us sit down for tea. You’ll be able to enjoy the options, your majesty. The table is enchanted to enable the deceased a meal.”

“It’s been so long since I’ve sat down to the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party.”

She flutters her eyelashes at the Hatter when he offers her his arm. She seems to be able to hover her ghostly hand over his, giving the appearance that they’re actually walking arm and arm. I watch them walk away, chatting animatedly about nonsense. My skin is still crawling from having been in the Hereafter and almost fading for the second time. It’s almost like my body needs time to get used to its own skin again. It’s an odd feeling, to almost die, knowing how close you are. I trust the Hatter, trust him to make sure I always come back, but that doesn’t make the feelings disappear. I have skirted death too many times since I fell down the Rabbit Hole and yet, I don’t seem to be worried. My priorities have obviously changed since I’ve been here. I just hope I have them in order.

White follows behind the Hatter and the Queen, taking his seat at the table with them. Cheshire still stands beside me, his eyes looking towards the portal gate longingly.

I worry my bottom lip between my teeth, shifting uncomfortably.

“She said to tell you she loves you. And to stay out of trouble,” I whisper, sure he’ll hear me.

Cheshire’s eyes jerk to mine, some emotion flaring, strong enough to make my heart hurt. I fight the pain there, knowing Cheshire won’t accept my empathy.

“She spoke to you.” It isn’t a question, but I answer anyways.

“Yes. She’s amazing. And Beautiful.” I mean it. I can see Danica and I becoming fast friends in the Hereafter. I just wish it was a possibility in the land of the living.

“Was,” Cheshire bites. “She was amazing. She was beautiful. Now, she’s just dead.”

I’m shocked at the anger radiating from Cheshire, the rage simmering in his eyes as they meet mine. There’s so much there, so much repressed. His eyes go full cat, turning into a thin slit and glowing bright-yellow. His ears lay flat on his head.

“Cheshire, I didn’t mean— ”

“Back off, Clara. Go back to your Hatter.”

“But she’s there, and she seems happy. She might not be in this world, but she exists. When it’s your time, you’ll see her again.”

Cheshire looks at me, really studies my face.

“Didn’t Hatter tell you a Son of Wonderland can’t die?”

Realization dawns on me. I open my mouth, unsure of what is going to come out. Nothing does. Instead, I end up closing it again, my eyes watering from the pain I see reflected in his eyes. What do you say to someone when they know the worst pain? When they know they’ll never again see someone they love? There’s nothing I can say to make that better. Nothing.

“Spare me the water works, Clara. I don’t need the pity.” He looks towards the table where the Queen is laughing, White and Hatter smiling along with her. “Save it for someone who deserves it.”

He starts walking towards the doors, obviously intending to leave the awkward and sad situation I had walked right into. I don’t try to stop him this time. What else can I say? ‘I’m so sorry you won’t ever see your sister again’ doesn’t seem like it will cut it. I’m beginning to see that Wonderland isn’t the only thing damaged. Its inhabitants are suffering just as much if not more. The Hatter’s mind is like a prison, driving him mad. White’s incessant watch checking has to be from something, some form of obsession birthed from horror. And Cheshire. Cheshire is angry. Angry at the Red Queen, angry at me, angry at the world. That anger is going to eat him alive.

Cheshire is halfway to the doors when they slam open, the wood panels making marks in the walls on either side where they crash into the plaster. The Knave stands framed, Dormouse held up in front of him, bloody and broken. I watch in horror as the Knave tosses his body onto the ballroom floor at his feet. Bright red begins to pool beneath him, and I gasp. Dormouse isn’t breathing. Dormouse isn’t going to tell Cheshire to keep his boots off the table ever again. I take a step forward, no idea what I mean to do.

The Queen makes a strangled sound, her hand covering her mouth at the scene in front of us. The Knave glances at her but doesn’t acknowledge her identity. It doesn’t even seem like there’s recognition there. I begin to worry our plan might not work.

“Sorry I’m late for tea,” the Knave announces. “But I come bearing gifts.”

He opens his arms wide, and Cards begin spilling into the room.