Page 33 of Wondrous

“Do they eat moths?” Jack said. “Grackle here can flush some more out.”

“You use your pet moth to hunt other moths?” I said. “How unnatural. And cruel.”

“It’s nothing of the sort. Moths are the most self-involved creatures on the planet. If they can step on other moths to advance their position in the world, they’ll do it. That’s why Grackle is such an excellent companion.”

He stroked one of Grackle’s wings, and the moth—well, sat there. But I supposed he could have been enjoying the attention.

“Really?” I said. “I didn’t realize. But then I suppose I’ve never gotten to know a moth on a personal level.”

“Trust me,” he said darkly. “They’re villains through and through. Grackle has personally led me to the hideouts of hundreds of moths, and in exchange, he gets to ride around on my shoulder like a king, hand-fed on the finest silks. He’s quite happy with the arrangement and feels no remorse whatsoever.”

“How beastly!” I exclaimed, looking at the moth with new eyes. Grackle’s wings fluttered with what I suddenly imagined as sinister amusement.

“Well, anyway, I’m going to leave the tea tray out tonight,” I said, placing it on a stump with the teapot and the cup. “If one of the mock dragons comes by, we’ll see if we can get them to drink from the same cup you drank from.”

“I wouldn’t recommend that,” Jack said drily. He popped another moth into his mouth—under the perverse gaze of Grackle—and reached out to scoop more from the pan.

“Why not?” I said. “I tricked one of them into drinking from my sleepiness cup. Maybe I can do that again with the less-dangerous cup.”

I told him about my encounter with the mysterious monster during the maiden voyage of Alice’s Traveling Tea Shop, but he shook his head.

“I’m sure you’d come up with a way to trick them,” he said. “You’re good at that. But your teacup doesn’t work.”

“It doesn’t work?” I gestured at him in astonished confusion.

“Not the way you think it does. I’m not any less dangerous than before. I still have some of my powers, and now I’m a two-hander. There’s nothing more dangerous in Wonderland—or probably all the worlds—than you two-handers.”

“But—” A sudden worry nagged at me.

No, I thought. It can’t be.

Hands shaking, I picked up the teacup. It was nearly a twin of the antidote teacup, in size and decoration. I’d painted the less-dangerous teacup with a pattern of swallows flying west, or what I assumed was west, if the top of the cup was north and the bottom south. The more-dangerous teacup had the swallows flying east.

The teacup in my hands had a pattern of swallows flying east.

“No,” I whispered. “Oh, how could I have been so careless?”

Jack was right. I’d packed the more-dangerous teacup by mistake. And then I’d used it to serve tea to a jabberwock.

I fumbled the cup, nearly dropping it as my mind raced. The teacups worked differently on everyone. It had turned a jabberwock into a human, and perhaps it would do the same to the mock dragons, or perhaps it would turn them into hundred-foot-tall mock dragons, who could incinerate all of Wonderland with a sneeze.

“That explains the beauty,” I murmured as the question that had been lingering at the back of my thoughts cleared like smoke.

Jack glanced up, still chewing loudly. Somehow he was just as handsome when eating moths, which made it very clear how dangerous his looks were. “What?”

“Well, wars have started because of it,” I said, thinking out loud. “And I suppose it might make it easier for people to fall in love with you, which would be very dangerous for them, given what you are.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. All you two-handers look the same, apart from coming in slightly different colors.”

He dusted his hands off and drained the last of his tea. “I’m going to sleep.”

“All right,” I said, curious about what this would involve. Jack climbed into a tree, pressed himself into the crook between the trunk and one of the larger branches, and wrapped his arms around himself. It looked like the sort of position that would only be comfortable for about a minute, and then either your legs or your rear end would fall asleep, but Jack seemed perfectly content. He pressed his head against his knees, his dark hair falling over his forehead, and seemed to drift off.

I watched him for a while, a curious mix of emotions swirling within me. Relief, certainly, that my colossal error hadn’t been the death of me, as well as the now-familiar guilt. But there was also gratitude that Jack hadn’t taken advantage of my mistake, or done anything other than be an unpleasant traveling companion. Yes, he needed me to turn him back into a jabberwock, but he could have broken our agreement and threatened me, or dragged me back to the Hare’s cottage by my hair. Instead he’d sullenly given way to me, trusting or at least hoping that I’d keep my word after he helped me. I wondered if the alternative had even occurred to him.

“Can you please stop staring at me?” he snapped, not opening his eyes. “I’m not going to run off.”

“Sorry,” I muttered.