Further in the past, a young Queen Elsmere was elbow-deep in f?lour as she rolled dough in the Witzend Castle kitchen. At the table behind her, her six-year-old daughters squabbled as they tugged back and forth on an almost empty plate of tarts.
“You’re eating all the tarts!” Mirana complained.
“You can have the crusts,” Iracebeth said, licking berry juice off her f?ingers.
Huff?ing in annoyance, Queen Elsmere spun toward them. “If you can’t get along, there will be no more tarts for either of you,” she declared. “Now out of my kitchen. Scat!” She shooed them away with her rolling pin.
With one last longing look over her shoulder, Mirana followed her sister out of the room.
Then she paused, watching Iracebeth trudge away in the other direction. Her sister was most likely going off to play with her ant farm. Mirana waited until she was out of sight.
Cautiously, Mirana turned around, poking her head through the doorway they had just exited to scan the kitchen.When Queen Elsmere turned her back to the door to wash some carrots at the sink, the princess seized her chance. She darted across the stone f?loor, snatched the tarts, then whirled back through the doorway as her mother spun around.
Queen Elsmere shook her head as she spotted the empty plate. “I told them ...” she muttered.
With light steps, Mirana dashed up the spiral staircase to the tower bedroom she shared with Iracebeth, shoving the tarts into her mouth as she went. Ducking into the circular room (her half decorated in white, Iracebeth’s half decorated in red), she gobbled up the last tart, its tangy sweetness f?illing her mouth. She sighed happily.
Footsteps sounded in the hall and Mirana looked around in a panic. Burying a twinge of guilt, Mirana quickly swept the crusts onto the f?loor and under the bed on Iracebeth’s side. As the door creaked open, Mirana straightened, her hands clenched behind her back.
Iracebeth walked in, carefully balancing a jar of ants. She stopped and peered at her sister suspiciously. Mirana was standing on Iracebeth’s side of the room and had a shifty look on her face.
“What are you doing?” Iracebeth asked.
“Nothing,” Mirana said. Sliding past her sister, she raced out the door.
Iracebeth shrugged and continued into the room. When she got to her side, she f?licked open the ant farm on her nightstand and slowly poured the ants in.
As she bent to watch the ants settle in, she noticed a speck on the f?loor by her bed. She peered closer. Was that a tart crumb?
The door creaked open and her mother strode in, Mirana in tow.
“What did I tell you?” Queen Elsmere’s voice was sharp as she faced her daughters. “No more tarts!”
“I didn’t eat any tarts!” Iracebeth protested.
Elsmere’s gaze landed on the f?loor. “Why are these crusts under your bed?” she asked.
Iracebeth’s eyes widened as she pieced the truth together ... Her chest aching at the betrayal, she pointed at her sister. “She put them there!”
Elsmere turned to face Mirana. “Did you, Mirana?”
Mirana’s face was pale and she shrank back from them.
“You did! Tell her,” Iracebeth insisted.
“Tell the truth, Mirana,” Elsmere said. “Did you eat the tarts and put the crusts there?”
Mirana’s lips trembled. She couldn’t bear it when her mother was mad at her. “No,” she said. Her voice was small and wavered slightly, but then she looked up at the queen, her face sweet and innocent.
Iracebeth’s jaw dropped. “But you did! You’re lying,” she cried.
Elsmere had heard enough. “The tarts are under your bed,” she said to Iracebeth. “Don’t blame your sister. She’s innocent.”
“No! It’s not fair!” Iracebeth stamped her foot. Elsmere reached for her daughter’s arm, but Iracebeth dodged away and f?led down the hall, sobbing.
Gong! In the town square, Alice stopped at the sound. Snowf?lakes landed on her eyelashes as she stared up at the clock tower.
“The stroke of six!” Alice exclaimed. She looked around frantically, hoping to spot Iracebeth.
There! A young girl of maybe six or seven years old hurtled down the street, tears streaming from her eyes. Her head was unremarkable, perfectly normal in size, but Alice recognized Iracebeth’s heart-shaped face and pouty lips. She had been normal once upon a time.
Gong!
“The clock! She’ll bump her head,” Alice cried. She had to stop it!
Gong!
Swerving too sharply, Iracebeth slipped on the snowy cobblestones and f?lew toward her father’s statue at the center of the square.
“No, no, no!” Alice cried.
Gong! Iracebeth slammed into the base of the statue. Several white rosebushes around the statue, which were already bent under the snow, rained petals on the princess.
With a pitiful whimper, Iracebeth sat up slowly, her hands alternately cradling her head and swatting away roses.
“My head!” she wailed. “Oh, my head, my head! Stupid roses!”
“Is your head all right, miss?” a frog man asked.
“Careful, it’s swelling up!” A f?ish gentleman gasped.
Alice stepped back under an awning. There was nothing she could do. She’d failed ... again. Iracebeth’s skull puffed out and tears poured down her face. King Oleron and Queen Elsmere ran into the square and immediately knelt at their daughter’s side. Princess Mirana followed them, her eyes wide.
King Oleron lift little Iracebeth into his arms. Walking beside them back to the castle, Queen Elsmere held Iracebeth’s hand and murmured reassurances. Mirana trailed after them, guilt written across her face.
“You cannot change the past,” Alice whispered sadly. As she turned away, she noticed the window of Hightopp’s hat shop glowing.
Inside, she could see Zanik bending down. He stood back up, a crumpled blue paper hat in his hands. Smoothing the paper out, he ran his f?ingers along the feather, a smile on his face. Then he tucked the hat into his breast pocket, right above his heart.
Alice froze, remembering the rest of Time’s reprimand: Although, I daresay, you might learn something from it ....
“He kept it,” Alice gasped.
Memories whirled through her head.
Time’s room of Underlandians Deceased—Higgens, Highbottom, Highview ... There were no Hightopps on f?ile!
A furious Iracebeth threatening vengeance on Zanik at her failed coronation.
A hopeful young Hatter holding up a paper hat to his father.
Zanik’s secret stash of green-and-white candy—the very same candy Hatter would get from his favorite tree.
And f?inally, the blue paper hat hidden inside the trunk of the same tree, the ground outside charred but the paper hat untouched.
“They’re alive. They’re alive!” Alice cried happily. Zanik must have hidden the paper hat he’d kept for all those years in the tree to give his son a sign that they were alive! Hatter was right! She twirled with joy.
“Oof!” Alice smacked into Time. Latchingon to her with a claw-like grip, he hauled her into the nearest shop, which happened to be a clockmaker’s.
The place was dark and abandoned but for the hundreds of chiming clocks hanging on the walls and resting on shelves. In the light streaming in through the window, Alice could see deep crags in Time’s face. He looked like he’d aged twenty years since she’d last seen him.
“You have no idea how reckless you have been! The dangers you have courted!” Time shook her arm as he spoke. “If I hadn’t caught you—”
His eyes bulged slightly and he paused to gasp for breath. Letting go of her, he clutched at his chest.
As Alice watched, he pulled open his vest and stared in alarm at the spreading rust on his heart clock.
“I need that Chronosphere—now!” Time cried. His voice was thin and shaky as he advanced on Alice.
“Let me go,” Alice pleaded. She f?inally had the pieces she needed to save her friend’s family. “The Hightopps! I know where they are. I’m going to rescue the Hightopps!”
“You’ll rescue no one,” Time wheezed. “There is nowhere you can go that I won’t f?ind you.”
Backing away, Alice bumped into a cabinet and slid sideways, glancing behind her as she went. There, on the wall above a f?ireplace, hung a large antique mirror. The glass seemed opaque, its center turning into wisps of mist.
“Actually,” Alice said as Time reached for the Chronosphere, “I can.” Conf?idently, she stepped backward into the mirror.
Time lunged forward, but his f?ingers grasped nothing but air as Alice disappeared into the mist. Feeling a jolt, Alice could see the outline of the Ascots’ parlor room. Then bam. She thumped her head against something terribly hard, and everything went black.
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