beneath the doorknob and tug a wing over my shoulder. The gems blink through a rhapsody of colors, just like Morpheus’s eye markings when he’s anxious or perplexed. A while back, I discovered that my moods show through my jewels like his. It’s something Morpheus kept to himself, and one of the reasons he likes to have my wings on display . . . so he can read me.
But I’m the one who gets to decide when to let them out. I’ve been managing my netherling aspects effortlessly since I’ve been back in the human realm. Never once have I lost control. There’s trickery afoot here. And it started with that little blue cupcake that tasted of anise and honey.
Anise . . . a flavor startlingly close to licorice. Licorice tobacco.
I grit my teeth. “Morpheus.”
Last night, before I returned from my dreams, I hugged him, something we don’t often do. We’ve laid out strict boundaries for physical contact, to honor my human life. But he’d been grumpy and ill-tempered with my subjects, which he rarely is, and I knew he was suppressing his feelings about my pending marriage. So I wanted to comfort him, to assure him his patience had not gone unnoticed or unappreciated.
He hugged me back for all of five seconds, then pushed me to arm’s length. When he looked down at me, his expression was the furthest thing from sad or troubled. It was utterly composed, which is never a good sign.
“I’ve decided to give you and your groom a wedding gift tomorrow, plum,” he said, opening his hand. An electric blue orb ignited in his palm, then took flight, hovering between us. “Since Jebediah gave up his ability to dream for Wonderland, you may share your dreams privately on your honeymoon. You will not come to Wonderland for that one night. Instead, Jebediah can step inside with you and your dreamscapes will belong solely to him. But only if he can prove himself worthy of marrying a fairy queen.”
Before I could capture the floating blue light, Morpheus shoved me out of my dreamscape.
My hands fist in the netting covering my thighs. When I woke in this room this morning, I considered telling Jeb about Morpheus’s cryptic words, but didn’t have my cell phone because Jenara’s been doing her bridesmaid’s best to keep her brother and me from seeing or contacting each other until the ceremony.
There’s no more time to waste. He needs to be warned that Morpheus has arranged another test for me to pass. Or, rather, one for him.
I stumble over to the table for a second look at Mom’s birthday card, maneuvering my wings around the furniture arranged at odd angles in the too-small room. I lift the card, studying it carefully. Beyond the cute owl’s face on the front—subtle—and the “Whoooo’s birthday is today?” sentiment inside, Mom’s signature is in print. She always signs cards in cursive. Why didn’t I catch that? Or the fact that Dad hadn’t signed it, too? Come to think of it, I should’ve caught it all because I should’ve had my guard up. Morpheus has trained me better than this.
But he knew I would be distracted with my brain in wedding mode. He was counting on it. And to make matters worse, there were no bugs to warn me. The beach house was fumigated a week ago due to an ant infestation, and the silence has been deafening since we got here. I suspect he had a hand in that, too. Yet he’s still keeping his vow not to come between me and Jeb, because he’s managed to make it my netherling traits that are causing all the issues.
I’m on the verge of impressed, but it pales to the anxiety tying me in knots. How could I have been so careless?
“Bloody mastermind moth,” I seethe, expecting to hear an echo of smug laughter stirring in my mind. When there’s no response, I clench my teeth and rip the card in half, angry there are no answers to be found there.
“Okay, you got me. But you have to know you’re underestimating him,” I say aloud, in the hope Morpheus is at least listening. I sound strong and confident, even though nervous tears sting my eyes. “Jeb will find a way to make this work . . .”
“You’re right, Al.” Jeb’s deep, determined voice pulses through me from behind—an electric current, setting all my nerve endings alight.
I turn to see a single white rose wiggling through the cracked door.
“Let me