I snuggle closer to his chest so I can hear his heartbeat. Shutting my eyes, I replay in my mind that moment we first officially met as if I were viewing it on the screen across the room.

I had sat beside the bed and kept vigil that night, after breaking all my mirrors so Morpheus couldn’t find his way back into my room. I knew I’d let him down. I also knew he would be furious. But I didn’t care. All I cared about was helping the boy in the web.

Knowing he’d have no identity when he woke, I named him as he slept. He reminded me of a painting I once saw in one of my foster homes. They were religious people, and a portrait of Saint Thomas hung over their fireplace. His hair was brown, his face young but etched with wisdom, and his dark eyes sympathetic and soulful. He was the patron saint of people who struggled with doubt, and I had never believed that I had a place in the human world. So I appointed him my personal saint.

But as I watched the dream boy sleep that night in my bedroom, a boy I’d helped save . . . a boy I’d given a home, I knew I would never doubt my place again.

Nervous and insecure, I watched his brown eyes flicker open the next morning. A peachy dawn danced upon the walls in the room, animated by the tree branches swaying outside my window. I wondered if he would fear me, if he would panic or lash out. But when our gazes connected, I felt—for the first time in all my years—safe. He reached for me as if he’d known me forever. Considering how long he’d been without human contact, I didn’t hesitate to reach back. Silently, I took his hand and slid under the eyelet quilt, nestling into his side. Without a word, his fingertip glided over every feature on my face, his breath sugary and sweet across my skin—a residue of the forgetting potion Ivory had poured into him. To me, it was the scent of fresh hope and new life. Then he stopped at my mouth, cupped my chin, and pressed his lips to mine, his touch so tender yet so confident for a nineteen-year-old boy who had never kissed a girl. It was my first reciprocal kiss, the only one that reached into my heart and lit me up like a torch standing strong against the wind. I stayed there in the warmth of his arms and we slept for hours, until the sun peaked in the sky and it was time to give him answers, however false they were.

Thomas couldn’t speak for those first few months. He understood the things I said, but he had to relearn words—how to articulate and read them. It was as if Sister Two not only drained away his dreams and imagination, but also stole a lifetime of communication. Though it was frustrating for him, it made it easy for me, to tailor his impairment and amnesia to a car accident and head injury.

I look back now at the lies I told in hopes to keep him sane, and wonder how different things might have been had I brought him here to the train for his truth.

But the past can never be undone. He’s forgiven me, and loves me despite it all.

“I only wish I could’ve saved all those other children along with you,” I say, clenching my hands in Thomas’s shirt. “Or saved Alyssa from the pain she went through.”

“Come on, sweetie. Can’t you see how many lives you did save? Not just mine. You and I were both destined to be a part of Wonderland. No matter what paths we might’ve chosen. We were caught in that web from the moment we were born. Which means it was inevitable that our daughter would be as well, and that her part would be bigger than both of ours.”

“I understand that, but—”

“But what you keep forgetting,” Thomas interrupts gently, “is that without your role in all of it, our girl would’ve never been born to begin with, because I would’ve ended up a pixie, constantly in search of that missing sparkle of inspiration, never knowing exactly what I’d lost. I can’t think of a more tragic ending. Can you?”

A new emotion rises inside me. A splash of righteous indignation for all the lost human children and the one I was able to save, hot and overpowering.

“By stepping into Wonderland in the first place,” Thomas continues as he takes my hand and presses it to his heart, “you gave our daughter life, and a chance at life to all the children Sister Two would’ve caught and used up in the future. Morpheus’s luring Alyssa into being queen led him to fall in love with her, which in turn gave a selfish, solitary fae the chance to grow and do something honorable . . . She’s with us now because of it. Jeb giving up his muse for human children—a boy who didn’t have much of a childhood himself—another honorable sacrifice. We’re all better people . . . or netherlings in some cases . . . because of you being brave and daring enough to seek a better life for yourself. Because of your choices as that young, lonely thirteen-year-old girl, and then again as that righteous and caring sixteen-year-old princess, countless lives were saved and improved. And by saving Alyssa’s father, you gave her the chance to exist in the first place.”

I stave off a sob. “Which gave you the chance to raise her. She’s strong and amazing because of you.” I take his hand in mine, curl his fingers to a fist, and kiss his knuckles. “Thank you for never giving up on me or our girl. You’re our hero.”

“You’re my hero, Alison. Literally.” He brushes a strand of hair from my face that has fallen from its pin. “How many men can say that about the woman they love? Huh?”

I stop fighting the tears. I let them stream quietly down my face. These are different than the others I’ve cried. They’re pure, healing, and happy. Blissfully happy. In spite of the darkness we’ve all faced, I have my family. I’ve honored my mother’s death by enabling others to live. Just like Morpheus once said . . . he gave me a chance to make peace with her death. And now Thomas has given me a chance to make peace with my life. Everything is as it should be. At long last.

There would be times the dark thoughts would revisit, I was sure. But now . . . now I had a light to shine upon them. A beacon to guide me through.

“No more looking back,” I say to my husband, my voice surprisingly strong.

“No more train rides.” He strokes my jawline with his knuckles. “Only forward, from this day on. Cherishing each and every moment we have left together in this world. You with me?”

“Until the very end,” I answer.

Thomas dries my tears. “Happy anniversary, Ali-bear.” He draws me into his lap on the chaise lounge, and kisses me until I’m breathless and blushing like a new bride. After he stands me up to straighten my clothes, he whispers in my ear, “I’m starving. How about some spaghetti Bolognese?”

I laugh. “You read my mind.”

As we make our way off the train toward the mirror, he holds my hand. The boy in the web, and the man of my dreams. Always and forever, my anchor.

THE MOTH’S MACHINATIONS

“You’re sure about this, Morpheus?”

“I am,” Morpheus answered, dragging off his gloves and tucking them into his jacket. “You, however, appear to need convincing.” Magic tingled at his fingertips, a pulsing blue light just beneath the skin. Due to the iron bridge outside, his powers were limited to a few benign tricks. But it would be enough to get his point across if necessary.

The carpet beetle—who stood as high as Morpheus’s collarbone after Morpheus had consumed a shrinking potion—gulped behind his many clicking mandibles. His carpeted hide quivered. “No, no. Please, you misinterpret my reservations.” The insect’s twiggy arms trembled as he flipped through the alphabetical tally on his clipboard of all the memories that had been lost in Wonderland. “It looks like a boring way to spend an afternoon, is all . . . spying on a human’s forgotten moments.”