the strength of her imagination; after thinking herself beyond caring for anyone, impenetrable to the softer emotions, after all of this she had again paid Arch a surprise visit in his Doomsine encampment and—foolishly, idiotically—allowed herself to entertain thoughts of a future with him. She stripped him of his kingdom, but she didn’t kill him. Fearing that no matter how many assassins she surrounded herself with, no matter how many Cats she invented, she would always be alone, she had wanted a future with Arch, their mutual antagonism a game she envisioned them playing indefinitely. But he had swept his hand across the gameboard, knocking over the pieces. He had overturned the gameboard itself.
Sentimentality: the most dangerous weakness of all. It had brought her to this point, which she couldn’t have imagined even at the height of her powers: being without crown or palace, without a formidable army and—since lacking imagination she had no chance of avenging herself on the world—without even the spur of revenge that had pricked her on since she was seventeen. Her imagination should have returned by now. The green caterpillar was toying with her. There would be no Everqueen. It was time to lie down and die, and she trekked across the Chessboard Desert, leading Vollrath, The Cat, Sacrenoir and the rest of her assassins toward the one place that had been her home more than any other: Mount Isolation, where she would ease into her old sleep-pod and breathe her last breath.
CHAPTER 19
“ Y OU WERE right that I shouldn’t have gone,” Alyss confessed, at the foot of the dolomite wall behind one of the limbo coop’s tenements. Dodge was at her side, on the watch for guards while Mr. Dumphy stood with his back to the wall, feigning nonchalance and with unseen hands working his Rearranger invention against the thick dolomite.
“Huh?” the guardsman said.
“The anti-imagination rally at the salvage lot. I shouldn’t have gone. But I had to learn what I could firsthand.” Yet I learned nothing. “I wanted to understand why they resented me and my family for our imaginations.” I still understand nothing.
Half listening, Dodge burrowed a hand through the seam of his jumpsuit and took hold of an AD52 holstered under his left arm; a Three of Clubs had stepped to the lookout of the nearby guard tower and was scanning the limbo coop with a nightscope. Despite the abundance of weaponry he wore concealed about him, guardsman Anders knew he was ill-equipped. Hemmed in by the dolomite walls, outnumbered and outgunned, any recourse to his weapons had to be a last resort. If pressed to expose his weapons, it meant it was too late.
“I’ve tried to use my imagination to do what was best for the queendom,” Alyss said.
Her voice cracked, as it did whenever she was both offended and hurt: a lightning rod for Dodge’s attention. He might save Alyss from external mortal threats, but what about the subtler ones that came from within her own head? Self-doubt, paralyzing remorse—how could he save her from those?
“Maybe it has to do with your being the one who determines what’s ‘best,’” he said.
“But ‘best’ means whatever does the most good for the greatest number of citizens.”
Dodge kept his hand on the AD52 even as the Three of Clubs in the tower shouldered his nightscope. “You don’t have to convince me ,” he said. “But Wonderlanders are not equal in their abilities and you know it. It’s a fact you live with the same as the rest of us. All you can do is try to make it so we’re equal in rights —subject to the same laws and afforded the same fundamental opportunities.”
No matter how kind or well-meaning you are, someone will always resent you.
“I didn’t ask for the responsibility of being queen,” Alyss said. “I don’t like to think I’ve been hated for having it.”
Mr. Dumphy stepped abruptly from the wall. “It’s not working. The dolomite’s too thick. My
Sentimentality: the most dangerous weakness of all. It had brought her to this point, which she couldn’t have imagined even at the height of her powers: being without crown or palace, without a formidable army and—since lacking imagination she had no chance of avenging herself on the world—without even the spur of revenge that had pricked her on since she was seventeen. Her imagination should have returned by now. The green caterpillar was toying with her. There would be no Everqueen. It was time to lie down and die, and she trekked across the Chessboard Desert, leading Vollrath, The Cat, Sacrenoir and the rest of her assassins toward the one place that had been her home more than any other: Mount Isolation, where she would ease into her old sleep-pod and breathe her last breath.
CHAPTER 19
“ Y OU WERE right that I shouldn’t have gone,” Alyss confessed, at the foot of the dolomite wall behind one of the limbo coop’s tenements. Dodge was at her side, on the watch for guards while Mr. Dumphy stood with his back to the wall, feigning nonchalance and with unseen hands working his Rearranger invention against the thick dolomite.
“Huh?” the guardsman said.
“The anti-imagination rally at the salvage lot. I shouldn’t have gone. But I had to learn what I could firsthand.” Yet I learned nothing. “I wanted to understand why they resented me and my family for our imaginations.” I still understand nothing.
Half listening, Dodge burrowed a hand through the seam of his jumpsuit and took hold of an AD52 holstered under his left arm; a Three of Clubs had stepped to the lookout of the nearby guard tower and was scanning the limbo coop with a nightscope. Despite the abundance of weaponry he wore concealed about him, guardsman Anders knew he was ill-equipped. Hemmed in by the dolomite walls, outnumbered and outgunned, any recourse to his weapons had to be a last resort. If pressed to expose his weapons, it meant it was too late.
“I’ve tried to use my imagination to do what was best for the queendom,” Alyss said.
Her voice cracked, as it did whenever she was both offended and hurt: a lightning rod for Dodge’s attention. He might save Alyss from external mortal threats, but what about the subtler ones that came from within her own head? Self-doubt, paralyzing remorse—how could he save her from those?
“Maybe it has to do with your being the one who determines what’s ‘best,’” he said.
“But ‘best’ means whatever does the most good for the greatest number of citizens.”
Dodge kept his hand on the AD52 even as the Three of Clubs in the tower shouldered his nightscope. “You don’t have to convince me ,” he said. “But Wonderlanders are not equal in their abilities and you know it. It’s a fact you live with the same as the rest of us. All you can do is try to make it so we’re equal in rights —subject to the same laws and afforded the same fundamental opportunities.”
No matter how kind or well-meaning you are, someone will always resent you.
“I didn’t ask for the responsibility of being queen,” Alyss said. “I don’t like to think I’ve been hated for having it.”
Mr. Dumphy stepped abruptly from the wall. “It’s not working. The dolomite’s too thick. My
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