The foremost thought in Alice's mind as they approached the Casino was that it was not quite what she had expected. There were plenty of individuals roaming the underworld of Wonderland who had spent time in the palace. Some passed through for brief periods of time, and some passed in and out of it on a regular basis.
People talked.
Some told stories about the Queen, who's outsized-ego seemed to permeate everything about the place. She had been in power for a very long time, and to the observant visitor it could seem like the very walls of the palace had her loyalty and were working for her in some strange sentient way – closing off the threats outside, and vigilant for threats from within.
There were cameras everywhere, so people said.
Once Alice overheard a conversation in Ricky's shop about the food. The palace was equipped with the finest kitchen imaginable. It sprawled across multiple large rooms, and could literally feed an army. Yet somehow the food itself was lacking. The spices were bland, the bread always a little stale, the textures just bordering on unappealing. Maybe this was not surprising in a palace built around tea. For most tea-heads, even a gourmet meal couldn't measure up to a single sip of tea, so perhaps the cooks had given up trying for substance and relied on appearances instead.
They served fabulous, intricate, tasteless feasts. So the woman in Ricky's shop said, with a wistful sigh.
The Palace was 105 stories tall. This was a fact. But Alice had heard ominous whispers about the infamous 106th floor, where minds were melted and wills were broken.
Rumor had it that it smelled like freshly-baked cake.
Once, over a game of shribble, Hatter had mentioned to Alice that the Palace was the best place in Wonderland to be a magician. The Queen loved card tricks. The real game was for the magician to predict which one would let him leave with his head still attached.
And that was why Hatter was such an excellent card player.
Once, the Queen had transformed an entire floor of the palace into a giant chessboard. Oysters had been removed temporarily from the Casino and conscripted as live chess pieces. The ones who survived the week-long nightmare, during which they had been forced to behead each piece they "captured", had their memories wiped.
Sometimes the Queen was merciful, after all.
Alice had always wondered about the Hall of Mirrors, said to be on the 70th floor. Anyone who looked into the mirrors there would see their ideal selves. This was a little spin of magic put into them by the designers, no doubt done out of a healthy sense of self-preservation. If the Queen or a particularly insecure courtier ever passed through and did not like what was reflected back to them – well, who would pay the price for that?
There was more. So many stories, all perniciously laced with the Queen's tyranny and malice. To Alice, even the most sumptuous promises smelled like death.
But then, she was an oyster.
All of the stories floated around her head as she sat in the small speeding watercraft, the palace looming tall and getting closer by the minute. The fast, chopping motion of the waves only aggravated the coil of fear in her stomach. They were crossing the expanse of the lake that separated the palace from the city. Hatter was seated across from her, and though she could tell he was alert to his surroundings, he kept his gaze fixed at some nothingness between her feet. Two Suits sat in the prow watching them both, and Mad March was behind them, steering the boat. The members of the Resistance had been picked up by the Suits too. They were in three other boats not far behind this one.
Alice wondered how Hatter was faring. No doubt he was thinking of a way to turn the situation to his advantage. Her anger at him rose again, but she forced him out of her mind. Easier to try than to do when he was sitting within arm's reach. She closed her eyes, and though she knew it was futile she tried to relax. She needed to think about her options. The most tempting one was to jump out of the boat and swim for it. But she knew that wouldn't work. At best, they would scoop her up and put her right back where she was, but wetter, colder, and otherwise worse for the wear.
Or they would just decide she wasn't worth it and shoot her.
She turned over the conversation with Mad March in her mind. He thought he didn't know anything. "You don't even remember the Other Side, Alice. You know nothing. Now let the grownups talk."
So Mad March was an Other-Sider.
Surely wasn't the only one operating in Wonderland? Other than the captive oysters?
The thought made her pause to consider. No, he surely wasn't. Her mind raced as she recognized the beginnings of a plan that might get them out of this mess.
Eventually she heard the engine winding down. They cruised into a dark tunnel, water slapping against concrete on either side of them. The flat stone roof was close above their heads, lit by small, pale lights. The splash of the boat's wake echoed loudly.
They pulled up next to a small landing platform which allowed access to a discretely-placed door. Mad March hopped out and secured the boat to an iron hook affixed to the platform. He retrieved a key from his breast pocket and opened the door. It swung silently inward. One of the Suits nudged Alice, and she climbed out of the boat and followed. She sensed Hatter and the two Suits close behind her.
Alice had been on her fair share of elevator rides recently, but the one that came next felt like the longest in her short life. She stood next to Hatter under the flickering glow of the fluorescent lights as they moved steadily upward. The guards were impassively stationed on either side of them. Mad March stood by the door and watched them silently the entire time.
At last, the bell dinged. They were on the 99th floor. The Suits stepped out, pushing Hatter and Alice with them. Mad March remained in the elevator. Alice glanced back and caught a glimpse of his expressionless mask before the doors shut. She held herself steady and did not allow herself to shudder.
They were led to a small room with hideous yellow hardbacked chairs, a coffee table with that day's edition of [the newspaper], several gold-filigreed rose paintings, and very little else.
The Suits indicated that Hatter and Alice should take a seat.
"How about something to drink then?" Hatter said, choosing a seat opposite Alice, with the coffee table safely between them.
The men ignored him and left the room.
They were alone.
Alice shivered. It just a little too cold to be comfortable. Was that intentional?
The air was a little stale, and the room had no windows.
There was nothing here, as far as she could tell. She wondered what awful thing Mad March had in mind for them.
She looked over at Hatter. He was leaning back in his chair, feet on the coffee table, seemingly very at ease in this strange space. He had pulled his hat as low as he could without covering his eyes, and looked for all the world like he was about to take a nap.
But she immediately noticed that he was staring at her with an intensity that was anything but relaxed.
"What now?" She asked him.
"Now we wait." He said, then quietly mouthed they're watching and winked at her.
Alice, understanding, looked away. Her eyes fell on the newspaper. In search of a distraction from the pit of anxiety in her stomach, she started to reach for it. Hatter gave a slight cough.
She looked up.
You can't read. He mouthed.
For a moment she was puzzled, then she realized what he meant. So that was how it was. The less they knew about just how aware she was the better. It wouldn't do for them to realized he'd taught her how to read.
Her mind was racing. As much as part of her wanted nothing to do with Hatter, she wished she could talk to him now, only to tell him what she was planning. It would be so much easier if he was in on it.
Well, since the Suits were listening, maybe she could give them something to think about.
"I'm sorry I got you into this mess," she said quietly.
He grunted in response. His eyes narrowed as he noiselessly mouthed: Stop. Talking.
She pretended not to notice. Instead she sighed and slumped into her chair, looking thoroughly demoralized. "You would have been better off without me around. I'm sorry I ruined it for you. You weren't asking for this."
He looked ready to throw his hat at her. But, apparently realizing she was not going to take the hint, he played along. "Even a man like me has some morals, eh? You needed help and I was there for you. Besides," he shrugged. "It could be worse." He lowered his voice as though he did not want to be overhead, but somehow managed to be very clearly audible. "At least she's in the clear."
"For now." Alice let her shoulders droop a little further toward the floor.
"Now, now, Alice. What I have I said about your negative thinking?"
Nothing, ever, Alice thought dryly. But she allowed herself to smile. "Do you think they'll behead me or send me to the Casino?" she asked.
He chuckled. "Beheading, obviously. Maybe after a six-month tour in the Casino though. You've worked hard, you deserve the break."
Alice had to keep from laughing aloud. He had no idea how well this conversation was playing into her fledging plan. What peculiar mix of emotion was she feeling now? Some strange form of Happiness? Pleasure?
Hatter relaxed back into his chair and appeared to settle in for a nap.
Alice decided to do the same, hugging her coat around her and shifting to find a more comfortable position – not an easy feat in a chair that seemed designed to be incredibly uncomfortable.
They were kept in the room for hours with no sign of anyone.
She eventually drifted off to sleep, and had a vivid dream of a dark tunnel with a mirror at one hand. Chez was in front of her, walking toward it. His tail swished and his keen eyes were reflected back at her through the mirror, watching her.
The mirror got bigger and bigger as they approached, until it stretched to fill the whole tunnel. The tunnel itself grew, the ceiling vaulting far above their heads.
Chez sat down in front of the mirror, contemplating it calmly. Then he stepped through and vanished.
Alice was about to follow when he felt someone shaking her. "Wake up Alice." Hatter's voice. He came into focus and the dream faded. He was standing above her, and nearby she saw three men in suits. New Suits. These ones had Clubs on their uniforms instead of Spades.
It was a very long elevator ride to the top of the casino, and Hatter could feel Alice's tension. She did not once meet his eyes, but stared steadily at the floor, the way she had the first time he met her. He longed to explain everything to her, but there was no time for that yet.
The wide double doors to the throne room swung open. It was an immaculately polished space, with rich, ostentatious décor befitting of the Hearts. The room was drowning in gold and red and velvet. The throne itself was positioned on a dais against the opposite wall. The Queen, in turn, was positioned like a spreading mass upon it. It was a familiar sight.
Like a cow chewing her cud, or a well-placed tumor, Hatter thought with no small amount of spite.
Jack stood to the side of the throne, hands behind his back, face perfectly impassive. He was the picture of polished, aristocratic control. Hatter noted Alice's slightly dazed expression as she took in the richness of the room. Of course, she had never been in a place like this before. His shop was probably the nicest place she'd seen, and well…it left a little to be desired.
As he watched, her gaze fell on Jack. Her eyes lit up for a fraction of a second, and Hatter felt like kicking something. She quickly averted her gaze, no doubt not wanting anyone else in the room to catch on to her fondness for Pretty Boy. Especially not his mother.
As the Suits shoved them into placed side-by-side in front of the throne, the Queen looked them over. "These are the felons you were so proud of bringing me? How ridiculous. Which one of you idiots oversaw this? Where is my ring?"
The Eight of Clubs spoke up hesitantly. "Mad March, Your Majesty."
"Mad March? Don't be absurd." Just then, the doors opened. "Ah, so glad you could join us," she said. Mad March strode in and positioned himself near the wall, in full view of the prisoners.
"Marchy, am I to understand that this is your work?" The Queen demanded.
Mad March merely nodded.
"And where is my ring?"
"It is being retrieved from the docks as we speak, Majesty. I've brought you the culprit who stole it and her accomplice."
The Queen rubbed her hands together and stood up. "Excellent. Let's have a closer look. What are they?"
A Suit shoved Hatter forward. "This one was caught trying to interfere with the arrest operation, Your Majesty. He tried to free the other one."
The Queen squinted, scrutinizing him. "Marchy, is that who I think it is?"
"Mad Hatter. Yeah, it's him." Mad March glanced at Hatter disinterestedly. Hatter felt his hackles rise at the unspoken insult, but said nothing.
The Queen smirked, then turned to appraise Alice. "And who is that disgusting little oyster? She's not one of ours, is she?"
Alice nervously placed a hand over her Glow.
A Suit stepped forward. "She's contraband, Majesty. We caught her with the Resistance. We have reason to believe that she was being illegally held by the Mad Hatter, and prior to that by an illegal draining operation in the Piles District."
"Really?" The Queen looked at Hatter again. "Oh dear, what have you been up to?"
"I can answer that," said Alice.
Oh Alice, don't even try, thought Hatter, feeling the clench of genuine fear for the first time since they'd arrived. No good could come of this.
The Queen fixed Alice with a stare that would have curdled milk. "And did I ask you?"
"No, but you should have. Hatter doesn't even know what he's been up to. But I do."
"Pray tell." Hatter recognized the danger in the monarch's icy tone all too well. If she would only leave things be, he might be able to get them out of this somehow. But apparently his oyster was not going to leave things be.
Alice, if we survive this, you are so fired.