16

Alice lands on her back for the tenth time that day. If only this were a fencing match! Learning to fight with her fists is like learning from scratch. She has no idea what she's doing, and despite the pillow strapped to her chest and the helmet on her head, she's still feeling a considerable amount of pain.

Baxton shifts his weight, bouncing on the balls of his feet, fists raised. "AGAIN!" he commands.

Alice pushes herself off the floor with a grunt. The practice room they've chosen is fairly spacious once the piano had been moved out, but Baxton had insisted that Mally, acting as their chaperone, would watch from the outside. After being knocked around the entire space for the past hour, Alice can see why. She raises her fists again just before Baxton makes another swing at her. She goes for his gut, but he dodges her just as fast, leaping out of the way only to come in towards her head. She ducks and swings, managing to catch him between the ribs for a split second before he dodges her again.

"C'mon, Kingsleigh." he growls. "Your fight is Friday. Stop dancing around and hit me!"

"I'm. Trying." she pants, hurling her fist only to have it blocked yet again.

"James is a lot cleverer than me." Baxton says, catching her leg and knocking her feet out from under her. "He's not afraid to fight dirty. If you can't even beat me," he makes to stomp on her side, but Alice rolls away and back onto her feet. "You might as well slit your own throat."

Alice lunges, only to hit the wall once again. Baxton roars with laughter. "Mirana chose you?" He snorts. "She must be desperate. Or stupid. Or both. You're tickling me here."

Alice growls and lands a punch square on his jaw, forcing him to stumble back a few steps. How dare he? She easily ducks his next swing at her head, landing a kick to his stomach. She leaps over his counterstrike, bouncing off his back and landing behind him. Not giving him the chance to turn around, she shoves her foot into his back, forcing him down with newfound strength. Baxton slams into the ground but wastes no time and rolls out from under her foot. He grins.

"Oh, so you can fight. All I have to do is insult your girlfriend."

Alice's eyes widen, startled out of her sudden rage. "She's not my girlfriend!" she sputters out. How could he think -? Are there cameras in their room? Did he see Mirana pull her into that closet?

Baxton snorts. "Oh, and I'm supposed to believe the way you look at her clearly isn't disgustingly lovesick? There were at least four other people in your room yesterday, and you didn't take your eyes off her once. That, and she touches you more than anyone else."

"How-?" Alice forces her jaw to close to a more reasonable degree. "Why are you watching us?"

"I'm observant. And your voice going up so much isn't helping your case much, either." Baxton moves over to unzip his backpack. "Take the armour off. We're done with that bit of training for today."

Alice loosens the straps holding the pillow to her chest before slipping it off. She really needs to stop being so obvious, at least until she and Mirana are actually together. "What else is there to do?" she asks, unclasping her helmet.

"James is a poisoner, first and foremost. He's more of a dodger when it comes to physical fighting, which is why he won't hesitate to use his specialty to his advantage." Baxton pulls out three bottles. "When he's faced with things like this, these are his usual tools."

Alice frowns, stepping closer to examine the bottles: car battery acid, bleach, and ammonia. Not exactly things to be taken lightly. "Things like this?"

"You think you're the first one to challenge Iracebeth?"

"I thought-"

"You thought wrong." Baxton rezips his bag. "The last person to challenge Iracebeth died. No one could trace it back to James, so there was nothing other than a funeral. Which reminds me: get your food outside of school from now on, and definitely don't take anything anyone offers you. Nothing's safe here. James can be everywhere and nowhere all at once."

"There's been others?"

Baxton chortles. "I tell you that there's a very good chance your own food may be poisoned, and you latch onto the fact that others before you have fought in Mirana's honour? There's no need to be jealous, Kingsleigh. She's never been this way with any of her past Champions. She didn't look at them the same way she looks at you."

"I didn't say I was jealous." Alice mutters, flushing, but silently grateful that she seems to be the only one to have captured Mirana's heart.

"You didn't have to. You're an awful liar."

"So I've been told." She picks up the ammonia bottle, feeling the weight of it in her hand. "What are we doing with these?"

"I'm going to throw some at you, and you're going to avoid getting hit, assuming you don't want to die."

Alice nearly drops the bottle, catching it just in time and setting it on the floor with the others. "What? We can't practice with water?"

Baxton unzips a smaller pouch and takes out a box of plastic bags and metal ties. A pair of thick, brown leather gloves follow. He rolls his eyes. "Sure. You can bring a water gun to the fight too, while you're at it." He closes the pouch and locks eyes with her. "If we're doing this, we're doing it right. So I need you to tell me now if you're really ready to stick your neck out to overthrow Iracebeth, or if you're just going to crawl back into that sheltered shell and watch the rest of us suffer."

Alice locks her jaw, biting back any retort she might have come up with, because despite how rigorous all this is, Baxton is right. She thrusts the ammonia into his hand and steps back, getting into a fighting stance — fists raised, left foot back, right foot forward. Baxton grins at that and fills the first bag with ammonia. After tying it off and putting on the gloves, he slits it quickly and hurls it at her without warning.

SPLAT!

The bag slams against the wall seconds after Alice manages to duck out of the way, the liquid dripping down from where it hit and pooling onto the carpet. The vapor fills the air, and Alice's eyes begin to tear up, but she doesn't say anything to Baxton in case he tries to use that as further ammunition. She ignores the stinging, burning sensation as another bag flies toward her chest, leaping to the left. Her vision blurs, but she continues, dodging bag after bag. Her throat is tightening, like someone is crushing her windpipe slowly, painfully. Baxton is relentless, barely giving her a chance to recover before he hurls the next bag, filling each one with a surprising lightning speed. Tears roll down her cheeks as her eyes overflow. It's burning her eyes. There's so much.

She moves too late on the next, barely able to see it. A few drops splash her arm, and she howls, the skin burning right away. Baxton stops immediately, dropping the bag in his hand and forcing the door open. He shoves Alice out of the room, she herself barely registering his hands on her back as she falls to the floor outside. Mally rushes to her side as Baxton slams the door behind him. Bile rises in her throat. Her vision is swimming, her head is pounding. Colours fade in and out. She hears Mally yell her name, feels Baxton shake her…

And then there's just blackness.

The first thing her eyes register is the head of platinum blonde hair resting on her chest and the slender, pale fingers entwined with hers. A soft aroma of vanilla bean tickles her nose, and before Alice can stop herself she's buried her face in it, pressing her lips to the top of the head, smiling despite herself. Her surroundings don't even register with her.

Mirana lifts her head and smiles gently at Alice. Her fingers thread through her wild blonde hair, untangling a few locks. "Good morning." she says sweetly.

Alice smiles back at her, then realizes what she's said. "Morning?" She glances around her rapidly. Sickly, yellow tiled walls. Bleach white paper thin sheets. A metal cart with an assortment of bottles and full bags full of clear liquid. She feels a plastic mask on her face, a pouch sitting on her collarbone, tubes stemming from the mask running across her chest, leading to another pouch of clear substance hanging above her head. She lays back, groaning, now painfully aware of the sound of her breathing, puffing and clouding up the pouch on her chest. The place where the drops splashed her arm are angry, red sores, and it's nearly enough to make her feel sick again. "Fuck. What happened?"

"Well, Mally said that you passed out after your session with Baxton." Her eyes darken to nearly black. "The only reason I haven't had him killed is because he's the one that carried you here while Mally ran ahead to get you seen as soon as possible."

"Hey, hey." Alice says, recapturing Mirana's hand. The darkness in her eyes sends an uneasiness throughout her body, and she makes sure to quell it, drawing little circles on the back of her hand. "I know what I signed up for. I'm alive, aren't I?"

Mirana sighs. "I know. I really don't want you to do this. You fight tomorrow. I should just —"

Alice presses her finger hard against those dark cherry lips. "Don't say it. You're not going to. This is my decision, and I say I'm still going through with it."

Mirana nips her finger in retaliation. "Fine." she says, annoyed but with a hint of a smile. "But we're getting you some protective clothing as well as a mask." She glances at the door. "You've got visitors."

She makes to get up, but Alice keeps her seated. "Wait." she says. She moves the mask off her face, pushing it down to her chin. Mirana starts to protest, but Alice shushes her, leaning in and pressing her lips gently against hers, caressing, loving. She feels Mirana smile into it and twine her fingers in her hair once more. When she pulls back, she's got a dazed smile on her face. "I'm glad I woke up with you here."

Mirana flushes. "Me too." She pushes the mask back up. "Don't do that again until you're better." she mock-scolds.

"Promise?" Alice asks with a smile.

Mirana swats her arm, and with a roll of her eyes, goes to open the door. Tarrant and Mason go in, Mason launching himself into Alice's arms, causing her to grunt from his sudden weight.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Okay enough." Alice says.

Tarrant sits at the edge of the bed. "You're absolutely mad, Alice, you know that?"

Alice grins. "No more than you are."

Mason peers over at Mirana. "Mirana, your lipstick is smudged."

Mirana colours. "O-oh, is it?"

"Yeah, especially around your lower lip."

Alice bites back a smirk and instead locks eyes with Mirana, licking the residual lipstick off her lips before the boys can see exactly where it went. Mirana shoots her a glare, a "don't-you-dare-say-anything-or-I'll-murder-you" look, as she goes to stand by her side.

"We came to check on you," Tarrant says, stopping any further conversation on that subject. "And we also have some news. Professor Flora —"

Mason halts him. "Can I tell them?" Tarrant looks a little surprised, but he nods. Mason sits up, facing them both. "I wanted to know where my parents went. Why no one ever came looking for me, why I was left for so long. None of it made sense. They loved me. So I bothered Professor Flora about it, since she's the only one I really know here that might know something, until she finally told me. Well, she showed me, actually." He gnaws at the inside of his cheek, remembering reading through the article, then the file showing his current parentage. "I don't want to be Bumby's son, even if not by blood. I don't want him to have any claim over me at all. So I asked her if someone else could adopt me." He looks at them meaningfully. "She said she'd be more than happy to, if I wanted."

"Mason, that's wonderful!" Mirana hugs him tightly. "You said yes, didn't you?"

Mason squirms a little. "Well, no. I didn't give her a definite answer yet."

Alice frowns. Professor Flora is a lovely woman; why wouldn't he jump at the chance? "Why not?" she asks.

"Mason hasn't known her for as long as we have." Tarrant explains.

"It might seem stupid, but I don't want her to be like Bumby later, because Bumby started out nice too." Mason says sheepishly.

Alice reigns in the urge to tell Mason how insulting it is to even compare Professor Flora to Bumby. "That's… understandable." And it is.

"Well, you don't have to say yes right away, but I can vouch for her personally." Mirana says. "She's trustworthy."

"Thank you." Mason says. "That really helps." He thinks for a moment, and his eyes light up. "Wait, why don't your parents adopt me? You could be my sister!"

Alice and Mirana exchange a look. Someone clearly didn't tell this kid that if that were the case not only would he have Mirana as a sister, but Iracebeth as well. Not to mention the conservative nature of their parents.

"While that would be lovely, Mason," Mirana says. "I don't think it'd be the best idea."

"Why?"

"Iracebeth is my sister. You would be her brother as well."

Mason pales. "Oh." He stares down at his lap, fiddling with his fingers. "Never mind then."

"Why don't you go spend some time with Professor Flora, get to know her better?" Tarrant suggests. "That way you can decide sooner."

Mason nods. "I guess. I'll see you lot around."

He pulls the bill of his hat down over his eyes and leaves. Tarrant lies down, a deep sigh escaping him as he relaxes.

"That's really good news." Alice says. "For Mason."

"Yes, I'm glad." Tarrant props himself up on his elbows. "Are you prepared for tomorrow, Alice?"

Alice tries not to give away her uncertainty. "I believe so."

Of course, Tarrant doesn't buy it. "I can go in your place." he offers. "It's not too late to make the switch. The Red Queen can't do anything about it if we do."

Alice furrows her brow. First Mirana, now Tarrant? "Honestly? Do you both really believe in me so little? I said I'll do it, I'm doing it. Baxton has been a wonderful help, and now I have an idea of what it is I'm going up against. We shouldn't be talking about who's fighting the Jabberwocky, because it's too late for that now. I'm tired of running that path over and over again. It's a dead end in a maze of possibilities! What we should be talking about is what I'm wearing tomorrow so I don't die from this, and how I'm going to get him to submit, because I am not going to kill him. We are better than Iracebeth. This fight will not end in death, but surrender."

There's a bit of silence, then:

"Wow, Alice." Tarrant says. "You ought to run for Prime Minister."

Alice chortles. "I'd rather not be trapped in a stuffy office, thank you."

Mirana smiles fondly at her. "No, that would be awful." She grows serious. "Well, we're going to layer you, obviously. Long sleeves are a must."

"Leather is essential as well." Tarrant chimes in. "Real, thick leather. I can make you a jacket and gloves."

"The pants should be flexible. You'll need to be fast when you're fighting him. A tight pair of leggings?"

Tarrant nods. "Shoes don't matter too much, as long as you can move in them."

"She'll need a helmet as well."

"We can go shopping later while she recovers."

Alice smiles as Mirana and Tarrant discuss more details of her battle suit. Finally, they're really getting somewhere.

It's a few hours later when they finally wrap up the last few aspects of the outfit. It's going to be leather heavy, mostly, and Tarrant's going to be making all of it to make sure it's tailored to Alice. They plan to head onto Crofton to pick up the material. Alice can do nothing but lie back and try to gather some strength. They make to leave, but Mirana tells Tarrant to go ahead. He gives her a strange look, but goes to wait outside. As soon as the door closes, Mirana sits at Alice's bedside and begins to run her fingers through her hair.

"I won't lie, I do miss your long hair." she admits, her fingers lingering a little by her cheek.

Alice grins sheepishly. "Sorry." She leans into Mirana's touch, closing her eyes a little. "Maybe you should stay here until it grows back."

Mirana giggles. "You're awful." Her hand comes to rest on one cheek while she brings the other hand to cup the other, forcing Alice to look at her, and her alone. "Promise me something?"

Alice sighs. "As if I could tell you no."

"You have, actually."

"You know what I mean."

Mirana laughs. "Mmmhmm. Promise me, that if you feel you're going to die, that you will surrender. The scholarship won't be worth it anymore if I lose you. Nothing is worth more than your life."

"That's not exactly an 'I love you', but I'll take it."

"Alice."

"Alright, alright. I promise."

"Thank you."

Alice chuckles. "I really do love you, you know that?"

"I do, and it frightens me a bit just how much."

"In a good way?"

"In a good way."

"Then I'm not sorry for that."

Mirana looks at her meaningfully. "So, you truly promise?"

Alice moves one of Mirana's hands from her cheeks, twining their fingers together. "I truly promise."

"Good." Mirana leans in and presses a soft kiss to her forehead, and Alice smiles at the feel of those soft lips against her skin.

Yet underneath the scratchy hospital sheets, the fingers on Alice's other hand are crossed tightly.