WONDERLAND: BOOK 3
AVAILABLE IN PRINT: March 31, 2020
ADD TO GOODREADS
BLURB: A Clash of Queens
Once upon a time, three sisters were destined to rule Wonderland. Separated from each other to oversee their chosen kingdoms, madness began to seep into their hearts. One by one, the sisters fell—one by death, one by banishment, and one to suffer from despair. Only two sisters, new to the realm, can help the White Queen survive…
Or can they?
Harold March has one simple rule: never get caught in a dalliance with a lady despite the fact he adores the company of women—behind closed doors. When a new findling appears, Marchy’s attraction makes him feel as though every aspect of his life is being rewritten, and he’s not so sure it’s for the better. Is romance in the cards for him, or does he only want a findling of his own because he’s jealous of his friends’ happiness?
April’s boss is obsessed with the concept of Wonderland. It’s all fun and games until April ends up being sent through a magic mirror and into the arms of the most gorgeous man she’s ever seen. What begins as a whimsical adventure quickly turns into the stuff of nightmares, as the very foundation of Wonderland is shook to its core, and her appearance there may have been the cause.
“Hawthorn?” Marchy stepped through another entryway that opened into a small corridor and ended at a door that had seen better days. A hole in the bottom panels was big enough for a rodent to pass through.
Marchy tried the knob, but the door didn’t budge. He was sure, on their way down here, Gareth had said all the rooms were open. Mayhap this one wasn’t to be cleared? He tried again and realized the lock wasn’t the issue. The wood was old and warped, and part of the top edge was stuck. This time, when he turned the knob, he also pushed down. The wood gave, and the door opened wide as Marchy stepped inside, glancing around.
A single stream of sunlight lit the area from a slit in the stone that allowed the light in to reflect off a grand, ornate, full-length mirror with a silver and gold frame in dire need of a good polish. Thorny vines from rose bushes in the gardens outside had climbed in through the window slit ages ago, but they weren’t currently in bloom along the walls. Hawthorn sat on his haunches in the middle of the dusty floor, transfixed by the mirror.
“Did you suddenly discover your own reflection?”
The dormouse paid him no mind. How very peculiar.
Marchy started to turn, set to leave the little creature to its musings since nothing in the room could fall on him, but then the mirror rattled against the stones behind it as if being shaken again and again. Perhaps harm could befall Hawthorn in here regardless. Before he could react though, a woman appeared behind the reflective silver and then tumbled out of the glass, shrieking. Hawthorn squeaked and ran for the corner to hide under a rose leaf. Without hesitation, Marchy shot forward to catch the woman before she landed on the stone flooring, losing his hat in the maneuver.
What just happened?
Then it dawned on him. This was no ordinary mirror, but the mirror. The one Alice had come through, as well as other findlings on different occasions. Alice had been the most notorious because, like Cadence, she’d managed to visit Wonderland more than once.
The second realization at hand was that the woman he’d rescued from a nasty fall had to be a findling. The first findling to appear since Melody and Cadence several years ago.
“Oh, my God. Did that really happen?” the findling asked and turned in his arms to seek his face. She blinked bright blue eyes and his breath caught in his throat at his first good look at her. Then, his cheeks heated as her gaze immediately focused on not him, but his ears. He was used to it, but sometimes it bothered him. “You’re—”
“Yes, like a rabbit. Don’t call me that though. Or a hare.” He hadn’t meant to snap and regretted he’d made the mahogany-haired beauty flinch at his tone. Ever since Alice left, findlings showed up calling him the March Hare like he was some animal on exhibit. He’d never liked Alice. Had warned Hatter against her, but had he listened? Nooooo….
“I’m sorry.” Her voice brought him back from the resentful past. The woman stepped away from him, and he clenched his fists awkwardly at his sides, not sure what to do as she glanced around. He focused on her hands, one of which shone crimson. She had cut herself somehow.
“Your hand,” he said, and sent a glance at the mirror to see if the thorns had grown too close or if there were sharp edges to the frame, but nothing seemed amiss. “You’re bleeding.”
“I…” She stared at her hand and shook her head, bringing her gaze back to his. “I…” She swayed, and this time, Marchy failed to reach her in time before she landed on the floor, unconscious, and on top of his favorite hat. He didn’t worry about that at the moment, and it had at least cushioned her head from the fall.
© 2020 Rebekah Lewis.