Dad nods and squeezes my shoulder. Mom kisses my cheek reassuringly. Holding hands like teens, they leave the room and shut the door behind them.

“This magic”—Ivory points to my chest—“is made of the most innocent love, Alyssa. The love of children. Pure and unconditional.”

Chessie launches from my hands and flutters about the room with Nikki in tow. I look down at the faint glow behind my sternum. “I don’t understand.”

“Come.” Ivory leads me to the fireplace. The silver flames blink, brushing Ivory’s pale irises, eyebrows, and eyelashes with glitter, like snow in moonlight. We sit together on the crystal lounge and she winds her waist-length silvery hair to one side on the white cushion. Nikki settles atop the coiled spiral and spins herself up in the strands.

The graceful turn of Ivory’s long neck reminds me of the swan form she sometimes takes. Just like Morpheus takes the form of a moth. It fully hits me that my alternate appearance is my human one . . . that my magic will never have a telltale color, because I’m a half-blood. This sets me apart, just like my dreams and imagination. It makes me special to both worlds. Which is what Morpheus has been saying all along. Which is exactly what Red hoped to accomplish by spawning a race of half-bloods, before she lost sight of her original noble intentions.

Red stirs at the back of my head, shrinking in agony.

Ivory holds out her palm and a softball-size bubble appears, luminous and clear.

“Another vision?” I ask, remembering all too clearly the last one she showed me and the life-magic vow that ensued. I don’t plan to make any more vows for a while.

“This is not a vision. Rather, it is a glimpse into your recent past.”

Chessie drops down and, with a poof, dissipates to orange sparkles and gray smoke. His haze drifts across the bubble like a cloud, bringing clarity to the blurry image that takes shape inside.

All of my senses tune in: I see, hear, smell, feel, and taste the moment:

Morpheus carries my unconscious form into this room and places me on the bed atop the snowy quilts. He pauses, staring down at my face, the jewels under his eyes the stormy gray of a tempest. Mom moves around him, her wings fluttering nervously. He steps back as she blots blood from my lips and collapses over me, crying.

Chessie hovers anxiously.

Morpheus turns to him, jaw clenched. “Go through the mirror passage . . . bring Thomas and Jebediah. Hurry!”

Chessie flurries away.

There’s movement at the doorway and Ivory steps inside. “There is only one means of saving her now.”

My mom looks up, the whites of her eyes rimmed with red. Even in her sadness, she’s beautiful, her skin luminous and smooth as if she were twenty years younger. “No. Not yet. She still has another life to live.”

Ivory winds her snowy white hands together. “If you want her to live at all, this is the only way. I’ve already summoned Grenadine to send the crown via Rabid. They’re in the north tower, so he shall be here soon.”

“We can’t do this.” Mom stiffens her shoulders. All vulnerability has faded from her expression. Her wings rise tall behind her. She’s determined, ready to fight.

Ivory steps closer and places a hand on her arm. “By putting the crown on her head, we will renew her netherling heart. She will return to the age she was when she came last year, the age of her coronation. And she will be stronger than ever before.”

Mom arranges the dreadlocks around my head. “But her human half is too weak to endure the surge. It will die. And she’ll always be haunted by its absence.”

“We can give her a forgetting potion,” Ivory suggests. “Banish the memories. She’ll be the Red Queen, with nothing human to impede her reign.”

“And in the process,” Morpheus says from beside the fireplace, “you’ll destroy some of her best qualities.”

Mom and Ivory glance at him, as if taken aback to hear those words coming from his lips.

He sits hard on the chaise lounge, wings draped over the back, then slouches with elbows on knees. The silvery flames flicker across his bejeweled face. “What of her whimsy and curiosity, her compassion and loyalty? Her imagination, her dreams. These are all part of her humanness.”

My mom stares at him in disbelief. “This is thanks to your schemes. You pressured her to choose you . . . to choose Wonderland over her other side. What did you think would happen?”

Morpheus hunches lower, miserable.

“Alison.” Ivory sits beside Mom on the mattress. “You are being too harsh. This rift was not caused merely by her efforts to choose between her worlds or between her love for Morpheus and her mortal knight. Red put a spell upon her netherling side, in hopes it would dominate and destroy the other one. You cannot blame him for that.”

“I can, because it all started when Allie came here last summer.” Mom glares at Morpheus again. “Now you’re finally going to get what you wanted. To have her here in Wonderland with you. To have her break all ties with mortals forever. You should be celebrating. You won.”

“Won what?” Dad asks from the door.

Before anyone can answer, Jeb comes up behind him. He curses and rushes to the bed with Dad.

Ivory moves aside while explaining everything, including the plan on the table.

Dad starts toward Morpheus. “Are you happy? You made it all about Wonderland. Now she’ll be a queen without a family who loves her.”

Jeb grabs Dad’s arm before he can get across the room. “Thomas, it wasn’t just him. We were pulling her apart, too. Trying to convince her to stay in our world. We have to be unified now, to think of Al and how to keep her alive.” There’s torment behind his green eyes, because he knows he’s about to give me up forever. But there’s no doubt, only pained resignation.

“Jebediah is right.” Morpheus meets Jeb’s gaze. An unspoken understanding passes between them. “But this isn’t the path to Alyssa’s salvation. Were she able to speak for herself in this moment, she would insist there must be another way.”

“I can think of none, and we’re out of time,” Ivory answers sadly. Her wings hang low at her back, appearing heavy.

“Put her on ice then,” Morpheus suggests. “Freeze her heart and give us a chance to come up with options.”

Ivory agrees.

An arctic surge rushes through me and my blood slows in my veins, like icy slush. The pain in my chest vanishes.