Jeb clenched his hands, disgusted with himself. “Gossamer?” He flinched at the sound of his voice, gruff and raw with emotion.

A flicker of wings stirred on one of the chains suspending the bed from the ceiling. He exhaled, relieved to see the sprite. Though it seemed stupid to care, since he was about to try using Alyssa’s iron bracelet against her.

Gossamer settled on the floor next to the torn vines and the baskets he’d overturned yet again. Her shoulders were slumped in defeat. She probably didn’t know where to start counting all the spilled contents.

Jeb began digging through the backpack. The harp had stopped playing, and the silence taunted him like a clock’s ticking hands. Every second he spent away from Alyssa left her more vulnerable to Morpheus.

Cold metal finally met his fingers. He tossed the iron bracelet toward Gossamer but a few inches wide, hoping to weaken her without harming her.

She screamed and skittered into the air. “Please . . . put that away.”

“Not until I get some answers.” Jeb pinched one of her wings between his thumb and forefinger. He carried her to the bed and set her on a pillow, keeping the bracelet close enough to intimidate her. “Just cooperate, and I won’t hurt you.”

“It already hurts.” She groaned, her greenish skin tinged turquoise. “Mustn’t use my magic . . .” She slapped her palms to her face. “Will make me . . . hideous. Abstain.” Her voice softened, as if she were speaking to herself. “Abstain until the threat of pain and contamination are gone.” She gritted her teeth.

Jeb frowned. “So iron turns your power against you? The perfect weapon to use against your boss.”

“A piece that size . . . will only work on the smallest of our kind.”

Jeb bent over, holding the iron cuff closer to her. “Okay, then consider this a lie detector. Each time I sense you’re holding out, the iron gets closer. Where is Al, and what’s your creepy boss doing to her?”

The sprite’s color changed to robin’s egg blue. She rolled on the pillow, wings struggling to flutter. She pulled them over her shoulders and across her chest, as if to restrain her magic. “Your Alyssa is comfortable and cared for. Morpheus is watching over her as she sleeps . . .”

Jeb snarled. Last night, he’d been the one watching her sleep, in the rowboat. He’d rolled her to face him so he could make her a promise, even if she was too drowsy to hear it. He’d promised to watch over her, to get her home safely. He wasn’t about to break his word now.

He had to fight the urge to trash the room again. “How do I get out of here?”

“Only Morpheus has the means to open the doorway.”

Jeb leaned forward, his nose almost touching Gossamer’s face as he held the iron bracelet over her head like corrosive mistletoe. “You’re saying I’m stuck here until that winged cockroach decides to let me out? He’s going to make Al face Wonderland alone?”

She whimpered, laying a palm on her brow. “No. Since you’ve proved yourself so loyal, he will allow you to accompany her on her journey. You will attend his feast and make plans.”

“Feast?”

“Alyssa’s introduction. Morpheus wishes to put her on display to the others.”

“What others?”

Gossamer slumped in a purple heap and scooted off her perch. She dragged something from inside the pillowcase—a sketch of Al that Jeb didn’t remember making. Slowly, Gossamer drew up her knees and studied the lines. “You did this while you were under our spell. You have power within your artist’s heart—a light that can pierce any darkness. You’ve captured Alyssa’s inner self perfectly.”

“That sketch is pure fantasy,” Jeb grumbled. He laid the iron cuff on the paper next to Gossamer.

She rolled to the middle of the drawing, trying to escape the metal. “There is more truth to this likeness of Alyssa than anything you can force me to say.”

Jeb tugged at the picture, tumbling Gossamer and the iron bracelet onto the furs. He spread the sketch out on a pillow and traced the charcoal lines. This depiction was like all the other fairy drawings he’d made of Al over the years, but it couldn’t be any more different from the girl he knew.

He’d drawn her with her hair pinned up. She never wore it that way. A black spaghetti-strapped gown flattered her curves. She wouldn’t be caught dead in such a conventional dress. The only thing that looked like her were the lacy black fingerless gloves covering the scars on her palms.

Other than that, the drawing was a complete fabrication. Al was seated on a park bench. She held a rose. Mascara and tears streamed in graceful curls down her face. Come to think of it, it was similar to the way her makeup had looked the last time he saw her.

He still couldn’t figure out why, after nearly drowning in an ocean of tears, her mascara hadn’t washed away. Squinting, he studied the set of translucent wings spread behind her. The thin membranes shimmered in a single ray of sunlight slicing through the clouds. The wings made him uneasy, though he couldn’t pinpoint why.

Maybe because they reminded him of Morpheus’s wings, though a completely different color. Jeb’s temples pounded. Nothing could be worse than her being alone with that bug man. The freak had some kind of hold on her, had gotten into her head when she was little. The subconscious could be very powerful, and if Morpheus still had access to Al’s dreams . . .

“How do I beat him?” Jeb asked over the knot in his throat.

Gossamer’s bulging eyes turned up to his. She was too weak to crawl away from the iron cuff, which now nudged her thigh. “He will not be defeated. He’s waited years for this day.”

Jeb grimaced. “Okay, so he’s Superman. But everyone has their kryptonite. Something they fear.”

“Confinement,” Gossamer blurted, darkening to the color of a bruise at the confession.

“What do you mean?”

Gossamer pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “Please . . . you’re holding it too close . . . the iron . . . it’s draining my energy.”

Jeb fell back on the mattress and moved the cuff away from the sprite. Balancing it between his fingers, he studied the iron in the candlelight. It reminded him of his iron labret and the first time Al had seen it—her enthusiastic reaction. She’d begged to touch it, asking question after question about the process of getting a piercing. Her enthusiasm and naïveté. Her insecurities. Morpheus wouldn’t hesitate to use any or all of them to manipulate her.

Jeb had to convince Al to leave Wonderland, to forget this quest to break the curse on her family, whatever it took. Something dark waited just around the corner for her, like in his dream. He could sense it looming.

“So, you want her to fix the original Alice’s mistakes, right? What if I fix them instead?” Jeb tried reasoning. “You send Al home and let me take care of things.”

“Impossible,” Gossamer answered in a breathy whisper, her pale green color starting to return. Crawling toward the sketch, she ran a tiny palm along the rose. “She’s already passed tests and proved she’s the one.”

“Tests? You mean like finding the rabbit hole to Wonderland and drying up the ocean of tears?”

She nodded.

“But I helped with those.”