The Red Queen: Wonderland University Book One Page 2

  Constance studied her face, clearly not believing her, but keeping her mouth shut.

  That’s all Beth wanted was for everyone to stop making a big deal out of it. She’d survive.

  She always did.

  “Good idea,” Constance said, taking her by the hand. “No need to eat with the peasants when we have perfectly good credit cards waiting to buy the best sushi in all of Wonderland.”

  Giddy, Lora nodded. “Yes. I approve. To Upstream we go! We can take my car.”

  The first day of her second year at the most prestigious school in all of the magical realm, and she was already physically and emotionally exhausted. Still, as they left the Campus Green and headed to the valet parking to retrieve Lora’s car, Beth made a pack with herself.

  She wouldn’t let Chess or Alice get her down. One day she’d be queen, and one day they’d both bow to her.

  Until then, her sights were set on someone a little hotter.

  A little madder.

  Chapter 3

  The moonlit sky welcomed Beth as she and the girls returned to the university after dinner. Sushi and sake seemed to calm the butterflies in her stomach, but warnings replaced them as she stepped onto the bottom stair that led into the Royal Suites where she resided.

  “Beth.” Every nerve in her body vibrated in harmony with the sound of his voice.

  She turned to see Arthur Cheshire approaching.

  “Chess?”

  “You look...tired." He sounded puzzled, as if he was still searching for the right word to describe her. Well, she could supply him with a few: forlorn, despairing, depressed, exhausted, heart-broken, abandoned, and oh-look-at-that-welcome-to-the-pity-party royally pissed off.

  “Well, look at this,” Constance said with her hands on her hips as she glared at him from the top of the steps. “What does he want?”

  Chess strode toward her in his maroon combat suit. Boots that came up to his knees, supple leather pants, and a tunic. Warriors-in-training weren’t allowed to carry their weapons on campus outside of the training facilities, but Beth knew just how good he was with hand-to-hand combat. She’d seen him in action back at the palace, where he apprenticed with the general of her father’s army.

  Chess didn’t need a weapon. “How...how was your summer?”

  “Grand, thanks.” She refused to look at him turned to continue up to the double doors that led into the west tower of the castle, the most lavish of the university suites.

  He hurried to stand before her, blocking her way.

  “Hey,” he ran his hand through his dark purple hair and gave her a brooding look. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

  “No,” Constance said, answering for her. Snow princess was an appropriate title, for she could have frozen him with the icy look she gave. “You had all summer to talk to her. How about you piss off.”

  Beth cringed. How could she tell Constance that she would very much like to talk to Chess without looking desperate? She looked up to her best friends, the girls who would do anything for her and cared about her as if they were sisters.

  “Go on up to my room, guys,” she said. “I need a minute with Chess.”

  Constance hesitated, keeping her glare fixed on Chess. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive,” she said.

  “Fine. We’ll be waiting,” Constance said, and she and Lora went inside the building.

  The cool night air was quiet and with the faintest breeze. She covered her exposed arms and looked down at her feet.

  “Well.”

  “I can explain,” he began, and she frowned, shooting a look at him.

  “What is there to explain? You didn’t say one word to me all summer. I waited for you back home, and you never even came back to the Red City.”

  “Look,” he said. “I can’t really explain what happened. It’s complicated.”

  “Oh,” Beth said, widening her eyes. “Things are always complicated with you, Chess. My life has enough stress in it with my upcoming coronation once I graduate. I don’t need to worry about you.”

  “Hey,” he said, taking her hand and unfolding her arms. “I still love you.”

  “That’s just rich,” Beth said, stepping away from him and taking her hand back. “Why don’t you tell me about Cannes, Chess? That’s right. You didn’t think I knew. But, I’m the bloody heir to the Wonderland throne. I know everything,” she shot back, torn between instantly regretting her words at the way he stiffened up and feeling gleeful for getting a bit of her own back. She took advantage of his surprise and dodged him, taking off at a run up the stairs and into the Royal Suites.

  He wouldn’t be allowed to chase after her. Men weren’t allowed, and he was far from royalty or nobility.

  She was out of breath when she reached the guarded doorway that led to the Red Hall and trudged wearily up the stairs to her room. Down the hall in the best room on the floor—corner with two walls of windows and a fantastic view of the forest and hills beyond, she heard the silvery tinkle of Alice's laugh. How she got into her hall was a mystery. She wasn’t royalty and as far as Beth knew, was broke.

  Some girls just had all of the luck.

  She let herself into her own room. Constance and Lora looked up to her from her lush queen-sized canopy bed with a crimson coverlet and fluffy white pillows.

  “What did he say?” Lora asked.

  “It better be good,” Constance said.

  “It’s not,” she said, turning her back on them.

  “You better not cry. No tears over that jerk,” Constance warned.

  Beth walked over to her window and folded her arms across her chest. She wanted to cry, but she refused to do so until the girls had gone and she was alone. As the tears burned in her eyes, she realized it would be harder to keep them at bay than she would have liked. To her surprise, she looked down at her desk and found two message bottles waiting for her.

  “Oh, yeah,” Constance said. “Looks like the campus messaging system has already started rolling out our marching orders.”

  She picked up the first one and read the tag. It was from Professor Hatter in the Dark Arts Department. Anxious, she readied herself for his first message. She’d spent her summer preparing herself to impress him with her skills, and after meeting him, the stakes were even higher.

  She popped the cork and drank the contents.

  Curious. It tasted like anise. Not her favorite, but not unpleasant.

  The potion took effect, and Professor Hatter's voice played his clipped, blunt message in her head.

  'I expect you at ten o'clock in the morning precisely tomorrow to discuss your senior thesis. Do not be late.'

  Well, that hadn't been too bad. She was prepared for that meeting. She had worked all summer, drowning her heartache in research for her topic. She looked at the next bottle. It was from Coach Hook, Director of Athletics. She drank the potion, which was sickly sweet, and she could detect the additions of various nutrient supplements. Yuck. Bloody awful. Coach Hook’s voice boomed out in her head, making her wince.

  'This is notification of the Senior Battle Schedule for Princess Iracebeth, student identification number one-zero-four-six. Your final arena battle of your Wonderland University term is scheduled for three weeks from Tuesday at two o'clock in the afternoon. All questions should be directed to Mrs. Tweedle, Athletics Department secretary. Thank you.'

  Three weeks? That meant she would be the first of all the seniors to do battle. Her face paled. That was just perfect, because at that moment she wanted to die from embarrassment and betrayal.

  Lovely. Fantastic.

  FIRE.

  It burned the ground behind her, and chased her through the woods of the Wonderland University arena. Beth knew it was coming to kill her. To destroy her. But, she didn’t know how to stop it or who had sent it to her. Fighting to breathe through the smoke that began to rise from the ground, she glanced over her shoulder to try to get a look at who was behind this.

  A scream erupted fr
om her lungs as the flames increased speed and heated her face.

  This was a premonition, one she hadn’t anticipated on having. She’d known since she first began to have the nightmares as a child that she’d been born with her mother’s gift of the second sight. Still, it didn’t mean she had to like it.

  Wake up, she commanded herself.

  Nope. Not yet. It wasn’t done with her.

  As she ran from the raging flames that seemed to cling to the dark tree branches and lash out at her like a whip, she dropped to her knees and in the span of a single blink lifted both hands and cast a shield of air and turned toward her opponent. The heat from the flames made her face sweat and the bright light had her turning her head to the side and wincing.

  Whoever was on the other side was strong, way stronger than her.

  She screamed again as the fire whipped out like a lasso, and ripped her from the clouds and broke through her shield.

  She woke up in a panic, wiping her face of sweat and trying to catch her breath.

  It was widely known that students actually died in the arena. It was a very real possibility. But, she was the future queen. She wasn’t supposed to die before she even sat on the Red Throne.

  Her room was dark and quiet.

  She was alone.

  Spent, she fell back onto her pillows and covered her face with both hands.

  This would not do. She needed to get it together.

  Fast. Before she really got herself killed.

  Chapter 4

  By the time she reached Professor Hatter’s office, Beth almost felt normal again. The nightmares of the night still haunted her, but she was over it. A large coffee with lots of cream and sugar had helped, along with the sticky currant bun. She was energized, if a bit shaky from the combination of sugar and caffeine.

  It was nine forty-five, a perfect fifteen minutes early for her appointment. Feeling calmer and more confident by the second, she sat down in the chair opposite Professor Hatter's door and pulled out her notes to review them. After meeting him in class the day before, something told her that they were going to get along splendidly. Strict or not, he was hot and he seemed to have a kindness no one mentioned when they spoke of his dark powers.

  Five minutes later, she heard voices approaching the other side of his door. Apparently, his first meeting of the day was over. He opened the door halfway and paused, smiling approvingly at whoever was in his office.

  “I believe your thesis is going to be quite successful,” he said. “It's an incredibly original idea, you know, coming up with an actual paint that can be used to paint roses different colors and experimenting with a select group of chemical binders and extenders to determine the most effective combination.” He laughed and shook his head. “You might find that even the Royal Family becomes interested in your little venture.”

  The leaden pit in Beth's stomach told her exactly who was about to reply even before the first irritating bell-like tones hit her ears.

  “Thank you so much, professor,” Alice gushed. “I just am really scared that someone is going to try and copy or steal my idea. I spent all summer developing the concept and doing research for it.”

  “Don't worry. I would never allow someone to do that to you.”

  Beth fought the urgent need to be sick, swallowing back real bile this time. She didn't know how, but that didn't matter.

  Somehow, Alice had gotten hold of her thesis idea. Of course, the Royal Family would be interested in it. Mother had asked her to consider using her senior thesis to do just that. It was a shame to be constantly either ripping up rose bushes and trees that had sometimes stood for generations, simply because a Red monarch or a White monarch took the throne.

  Magic could change the color, but it required extensive and expensive preparation and was terribly draining, and only the king or queen could perform it. The last thing any newly-seated ruler could afford was to be broke and exhausted during the tricky transition of power.

  Professor Hatter ushered Alice out into the hall. Alice gave Beth a satisfied little smirk and went on her way, leaving Beth staring open-mouthed after her.

  “Your Royal Highness?” Professor Hatter prompted.

  Beth stumbled into his office, knocking over two towering stacks of paper and tripping over small piles of books that lay about the floor like murderous stepping stones. Mumbling apologies, she slunk into the chair before his desk, eyes downcast and wishing venereal Spitter Pimples on Alice.

  “So, your Royal Highness,” Professor Hatter began, but she cut him off in her nervousness.

  “Beth," she said. “Call me Beth, please.”

  “Very well...Beth.” The professor's voice had the smooth, soothing tones of a tenor, and her name sounded lovely when he said it. Too bad the next time he said her name would be to tell her what a failure she was. “Do you have any ideas of what you would like to do for your senior thesis?”

  “No,” she whispered, keeping her eyes firmly on the way the magical paint on his desk peeled and unpeeled itself.

  “None whatsoever?”

  “No.” Could the earth please hurry up and simply swallow her whole? This piecemeal business of humiliation and despair was really beginning to get on her nerves.

  “Well...that's all right.”

  What?

  Professor Hatter chuckled, and Beth realized she had said that out loud. She dared to venture a glance at him and was floored by the way he was looking at her with kindness and understanding. He rubbed his hand over his jaw, and she noticed the pale ginger stubble that complemented the shock of vibrant paprika-colored hair on his head. He smiled, and she could see the lines that frequent smiling drew on either side of his mouth and corners of his bright green eyes, giving him a rugged, masculine look.

  He got up from his chair and came around to her side of the desk and leaned against it, and my goodness, he had never seemed so tall and muscular when she had watched talk at the front of the lecture hall.

  “Not to worry,” he said, smiling even more broadly. “It's not uncommon to have trouble finding a topic. A lot of seniors have that problem. The good news is that we still have time. The even better news is that I will help you.”

  “You will?” she asked stupidly, blinking rapidly.

  “Indeed, I will. We will come up with something smashing! You've always been a bright student, Beth. I've long admired your work ethic and your talent with potions and agri-chem.”

  “You have?” She felt like a dolt for asking such questions.

  “Yes, of course. I make it my business to check into each student I’m blessed with advising. And, you...are remarkable.”

  Princesses were not supposed to blush, but bloody hell, this was absolutely blush-worthy praise coming from one of the university's most demanding, perfectionist professors.

  “I, uh, thank you.” She stumbled over her words, blanking out on a lifetime of royal etiquette in the face of praise for her intellect for once, not just her birthright and rank.

  “I have office hours and the usual chaos of first week classes, but I think it might be safe to say you could drop by on Thursday evening, perhaps after tea? I should be free by then, and that gives you two days to come up with some ideas. Will that work?”

  “Yes!” She cleared her throat and viciously squashed down her unseemly, over-eager enthusiasm. “I mean, yes, indeed. That will do quite well. I am very grateful to you for your offer of help.”

  Professor Hatter pushed off the desk and offered his hand to help her stand up, giving her a friendly wink. “Well, it's not every day I get to do a favor for a young woman of both brains and beauty."

  Beth very nearly let go of his hand and fell back down into the chair in surprise. Two compliments, and neither one fawning about her royal status! Wait, did he just call her beautiful? Was that...it was...why was it making her toes curl? His grip on her hand tightened, and he steadied her on her feet.

  “Right,” he said, once more pleasant, but business-like.
“See you Thursday, then.”

  She nodded and fled his office, breathless, confused, and maybe even a little hopeful.

  Hope grew little wings and gained some height when she saw Maleficent crossing the quad. Mal was the reigning arena battle champion of her class every year. She had a perfect, undefeated record, despite even the attempt of a rival in sophomore year to discredit her by starting a rumor of her using ancient spinning wheel magic to toy with her opponent's energy levels prior to the fight.

  A commission had investigated and tested Mal and her equipment thoroughly, and not a single trace of dark faerie magic had been found. She was vindicated and pounded her way through the rest of her battles, sending all the varsity-level opponents to the infirmary or various long-term convalescent homes after that.

  At least she would never have to face Mal in the arena. Beth was totally happy dwelling on the D Ladder of the junior varsity rankings. Her upcoming fight in three weeks began to look less like another awful thing to deal with and more like just a thing to get through. She'd show up, make an effort, get defeated, and go on to focus on her thesis, whatever it was going to be about.

  Mal sauntered up to Alice and Chess, greeting them both with bone-crushing hugs. Alice said something, and they all laughed as she tugged Chess' arm more tightly around her shoulders.

  Hope's little wings suddenly developed a cataclysmic system failure, and it crashed and burned.

  And, oh, look, it was almost time for her four-hour senior-level seminar on Advanced Card Casting and Counting, the driest subject in Wonderland.

  Lovely.

  She hurried from the Dark Arts Hall and out into the quad. Fresh air greeted her and wiped away the claustrophobic aura that seemed to smother her the moment she saw Alice and Chess together. Thankfully, none of them had seen her.

  She sighed and closed her eyes, letting the wind blow her hair around her face. She didn’t care that it was messing it up. It felt good, and her nerves were too shot to let another thing get her down. What she needed was a break from everything. Sure, it was only the second day of school, but her anxiety was already near debilitating.