“What good is my imagination if it
can’t bring happiness to every Wonderlander?” she asked, biting
her
lip to stop herself from adding “myself included.” “I wouldn’t think I’d have to answer that. We’re here, aren’t we? Redd and The Cat are not.” “That’s not what I mean.”
Redd’s more public works might have been dismantled or renovated into oblivion, but her influence on Wonderland’s culture was still noticeable. Redd had rewarded the worst in them. Their narrow-mindedness, selfishness, and pessimism had flourished at the expense of kindness, generosity, and goodwill toward others—the fundamental principles of White Imagination. General Doppelgänger insisted on retaining peace-keeping contingents throughout the city, and at least once between every rising of the world’s twin suns, a Wonderlander would approach one of these to report a parent or neighbor for treason.
Arch was right about one thing. Never mind contending with forces outside one’s borders, there will always be enough trouble dealing with disruptive elements from within. “It’s just…peace really isn’t so peaceful,” Alyss sighed. Whether Dodge was annoyed by her conversation or the plea for sympathy in her tone, she didn’t know; he changed the subject.
“How’s Molly working out?”
“Fine.”
He twisted his features into a doubtful expression. “What? She’s better than fine. Great, really. We all know how skilled and courageous—” “It’s not her skills and courage I’m worried about,” he said. “It’s her maturity.” Alyss almost laughed. Here she was, twenty years old, having passed through the Looking Glass Maze and defeated her evil aunt so as to govern the queendom in the name of White Imagination, yet she hardly felt more mature than when she used to play harmless pranks on Bibwit—turning his food into a plate of gwormmies or imagining a thick bushel of hair on his powdered head. Sure, she was more powerful than she used to be. Her strength came easily and she could feel it tingling every nerve. But maturity? What was that?
“It gives Molly confidence to hold the position,” she said. “Besides, I know what it’s like to exist in two worlds as a halfer does, being neither wholly one thing nor another. And most of the time, I like to have her around.”
Dodge bowed. “Then I must trust Molly to keep the most beautiful of queens safe.” Alyss looked at him. He’d never been so direct with his affections before. “You think I’m beautiful?” “So-so,” he joked. “I know of this other queen a few nations over…” She slapped him playfully on the arm. Tell him you love him, that his being the son of a palace guardsman doesn’t matter if he still loves you as you hope. But when Alyss found her voice, she was surprised at what came out.
“Do you think Hatter might have gone to Earth?”
lip to stop herself from adding “myself included.” “I wouldn’t think I’d have to answer that. We’re here, aren’t we? Redd and The Cat are not.” “That’s not what I mean.”
Redd’s more public works might have been dismantled or renovated into oblivion, but her influence on Wonderland’s culture was still noticeable. Redd had rewarded the worst in them. Their narrow-mindedness, selfishness, and pessimism had flourished at the expense of kindness, generosity, and goodwill toward others—the fundamental principles of White Imagination. General Doppelgänger insisted on retaining peace-keeping contingents throughout the city, and at least once between every rising of the world’s twin suns, a Wonderlander would approach one of these to report a parent or neighbor for treason.
Arch was right about one thing. Never mind contending with forces outside one’s borders, there will always be enough trouble dealing with disruptive elements from within. “It’s just…peace really isn’t so peaceful,” Alyss sighed. Whether Dodge was annoyed by her conversation or the plea for sympathy in her tone, she didn’t know; he changed the subject.
“How’s Molly working out?”
“Fine.”
He twisted his features into a doubtful expression. “What? She’s better than fine. Great, really. We all know how skilled and courageous—” “It’s not her skills and courage I’m worried about,” he said. “It’s her maturity.” Alyss almost laughed. Here she was, twenty years old, having passed through the Looking Glass Maze and defeated her evil aunt so as to govern the queendom in the name of White Imagination, yet she hardly felt more mature than when she used to play harmless pranks on Bibwit—turning his food into a plate of gwormmies or imagining a thick bushel of hair on his powdered head. Sure, she was more powerful than she used to be. Her strength came easily and she could feel it tingling every nerve. But maturity? What was that?
“It gives Molly confidence to hold the position,” she said. “Besides, I know what it’s like to exist in two worlds as a halfer does, being neither wholly one thing nor another. And most of the time, I like to have her around.”
Dodge bowed. “Then I must trust Molly to keep the most beautiful of queens safe.” Alyss looked at him. He’d never been so direct with his affections before. “You think I’m beautiful?” “So-so,” he joked. “I know of this other queen a few nations over…” She slapped him playfully on the arm. Tell him you love him, that his being the son of a palace guardsman doesn’t matter if he still loves you as you hope. But when Alyss found her voice, she was surprised at what came out.
“Do you think Hatter might have gone to Earth?”