‘She isn’t a queen yet,’ said Jest. ‘But she could be. It solves everything, Hatta.’

Hatta sat back and shut his eyes, his brow tight. ‘Not everything,’ he said, but it was whispered so low Cath thought he was speaking to himself. When he looked up again, he was shaking his head. ‘We are a parliament of idiots. A murder of fools.’

‘No,’ said Jest, his voice soft. ‘That would be an unkindness.’

‘So it would.’ Hatta sniffed, and glanced wryly at the March Hare again. ‘What say you, Haigha?’

Haigha was peering at Catherine, his nose twitching. ‘Are we sure she can do it?’

‘That’s a legitimate question.’ Hatta leaned forward. ‘Once we cross through the Looking Glass, you’ll no longer be the daughter of a marquess, but a lowly pawn, like Haigha and me. If you fail to defeat the Red Queen, you are accepting many lifetimes of servitude. Are you willing to risk that, Lady Pinkerton?’

‘She won’t—’ Jest started, but Cath interrupted him.

‘I am willing to risk it. There’s nothing left for me here.’

Hatta looked at Jest. ‘It really would have been so much simpler to just stick to the plan.’

‘This couldn’t be helped,’ said Jest.

‘No, I suppose it couldn’t.’ Rubbing his temple, Hatta once again glanced at the March Hare. ‘So. Which of us is coming and which of us is going?’

Haigha’s ears folded down and he sank deeper in his chair. ‘I went last time,’ he said, his voice warbling. ‘And by-the-bye, weren’t you just saying you ought to go gather more hatting supplies? I mean, it isn’t that I’m afraid or anything of that sort.’ He scratched his neck, looking very afraid indeed. ‘Just thinking of what’s best for your business, that’s what.’

Hatta scoffed and nudged a teacup towards Haigha with the bottom of his cane. ‘Don’t get all harried over it. I’ll go.’ He let out a heavy sigh. ‘Time has been running short on this side of the Glass, anyhow.’

Haigha wilted with relief, though he remained half hidden beneath the table, shivering.

‘What are you afraid of?’ Cath asked, frowning at what little she could see of Haigha’s ears. ‘Haigha?’

His bloodshot eyes appeared again. He looked at Jest first, then Catherine.

‘Nothing,’ he spat.

Hatta stood and began gathering his coat and gloves.

‘The Sisters,’ said Jest. ‘When we came through before, you were . . . you seemed uncomfortable around them.’

‘Uncomfortable?’ Hatta barked and whapped his cane on the table. Haigha was hidden entirely beneath it now. ‘Do they make you uncomfortable, Haigha?’

‘Not exactly.’ Haigha’s voice floated up through the wood. ‘More like they make me want to drown myself in a pool of treacle.’

‘Why?’ Cath glanced at Jest. ‘What’s wrong with them?’

Jest shook his head. ‘They’re a little odd, is all.’

Haigha shuddered so hard beneath the table that the teacups shook.

‘A little odd?’ said Hatta. ‘You must have crossed over on one of their good days, dear Jest. I assure you, Haigha means what he says and says what he means.’ Adjusting his sleeves, Hatta fixed a smirk on Catherine. ‘But what can be done to avoid them? Nothing is what.’ He grabbed his cane and twirled it through the air. ‘Let you not say that you weren’t warned.’

CHAPTER 42

HATTA PUSHED HIS CHAIR BACK from the table and stood, adjusting his top hat. ‘Are you sure you’re desperate enough to come with us, Lady Pinkerton?’ he said, eyeing her. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to stay here and live your days in luxury?’

She stood too, facing him over the scattered flowers and felts. ‘What is luxury if your life is a lie? I can never go back there. I belong with Jest now.’

Hatta’s eyelid twitched, but he turned away and approached the standing mirror Cath had once used to admire her macaron hat. He pulled it away from the shop’s wall and swivelled it on creaky wheels. The back was the same. Another looking glass in a polished wooden frame, except –

Cath stepped around the table, her fingers trailing on the backs of the mismatched chairs.

The reflection no longer showed the hat shop. It showed a glen of grasses and wildflowers and a treacle well glowing in the twilight.

‘Step through, then,’ said Hatta, and his tone carried a warning. ‘The Sisters will know how desperate you truly are.’

She glanced back at Jest, but he nodded encouragingly. There was no doubt in his expression, unlike Hatta’s, and that bolstered her. She knew this decision, once made, could never be undone. But what choice was left to her?

She had meant what she said.

She no longer belonged in Hearts.

She would never see her parents again. Or Cheshire. Or Mary Ann. She wondered if she should leave them a note explaining where she’d gone. Maybe Raven would carry it back for her. But when she tried to think of what the note would say, all her thoughts turned bitter. Angry as she was with her parents, she didn’t want that to be the last they ever heard from her. No – Hatta was a messenger who traversed between the Looking Glass regularly. When she was calm and happy in her new life, when she had saved Chess and she and Jest had their bakery . . . then she would send a letter to her parents and let them know she was all right.