A Court of Hearts and Hunger (Wicked Darlings, #2)

by Rebecca F. Kenney

“Anything else you’ve conveniently left out of your dire tale of carelessness and stupidity?” Fin asks my godfather. “Just the maid’s name,” says Drosselmeyer. “She’s called Alice.”

Maybe love is simply reminding someone how wonderful they are, how strong they are. Showing them the shining potential you can see. Lifting them up to be the best of themselves.

“But part of you loves that I’d fracture the world for you.”

“Where are we going?” I ask. “From one side of the coin to the other.” “The truth, not riddles.” “Truth must be earned. Riddles are free.” “How do I earn the truth?”

“Because she’s mad,” says the Cat airily. “Of course, we’re all mad here, but she’s madder than most.”

Now it’s the Cat’s turn to stare at me. “What were you in the human world? A lawyer? A judge?” “A caretaker of children.” The Rabbit straightens his cuffs. “Abominable creatures.”

“But one person's freedom is another's oppression. What you call freedom is just an excuse to be cruel to the weak, the defenseless, and the less fortunate.”

Clara holds my heart. My soul and my mind—they are always secure in her. And suddenly my fear of fate, my anxiety, my superstitious caution—it all shrinks down to nothing, and I crush it into dust. I love you.

“Clara.” I clutch her shoulders, seeing my strength in those brave brown eyes. “Dearest, I love you.”

Alice crawls to the Rabbit, stroking his broad lips with her finger, then petting the long ears that lie limp on the ground. Those ears seem so odd to me, but she seems to like them.