Not that they could see much once they got in. The stone hallway was dark and dreary, barely lit by a few sputtering torches. “Oh, this is lovely,” Marcia muttered. “Furnished in early Edgar Allen Poe. You live in a charming place, Sir Dawson.”
“You know,” Bill the White Rabbit yammered, “I forgot my fan and gloves back at the Heart Palace. I really should go back for them. The Queen will be so angry if I don't have them on me...”
Orson grabbed his cottontail this time. “Don't you dare run out on us! We're so close to finding out what happened to Charles!”
Brett made a face as they climbed a steep stone staircase. “Let him find himself. Right now, I just want to jump this square and get out of here.”
“Shhh!” Richard pushed the door at the top of the stairs open a crack before turning back. “We're good. No one's around.”
Brett found herself pushing a bookcase open. “Groovy!” Adam said with a grin as he followed her. “A secret passage! Like in the Hardy Boys books!”
Richard shooed them all behind him as they heard the clatter of marching feet. “Stay with me. Not only do you not know your way around, but the Red King and his Red Guards are up there.” He pushed them behind a series of columns. “As soon as they pass, we must find my men.”
Little Mark's face fell. “The Red King has them! He took them from Queen Betty, didn't he?”
“Yes, lad.” He put an arm around his nervous offspring. “I was told they were taken to the dungeon. Who knows what unspeakable tortures they've been put through here! They...”
Brett's eyes widened. “Dickie,” she hissed, shaking his shoulder as rows of guards in red armor passed them, “aren't those your men?”
The three card-men in back looked like the trio who painted the roses with them at Heart Palace...but the expression on their faces were empty rather than jovial or noble. Even Larry the Club Guard, whose face was sweet and open in the garden, looked deadly serious now. They marched past them with barely a glance.
“Boys?” Richard frowned. “Bert? Larry? Greg?”
His older son tugged on his armor. “Dad, they didn't even look at us!”
Bill the White Rabbit somehow managed to turn even paler under his already cream-colored fur. “The Red King got them! He turned them into mindless drones! He took their muchness!”
“Just like Jack,” Brett muttered. “Come to think of it,” she added out loud, “I haven't seen the Red Knight in a while. You'd think he would be in charge, or at least bawling to these guys to get a move on.”
“Mom,” David hissed, “we have to save Dad and those guys! No one deserves to have their...whatever...sucked out of them!”
Richard nodded firmly. “Everyone follow me. Stay on the edges, against the wall. We don't want them to see us.”
“Mom,” Adam whispered as they made their way down the hall. “I get the feeling we're being watched, or something. I saw something red behind a drapery.”
She looked behind the heavy white and gold tapestry he pointed at. It fluttered, but there was nothing there. “I'm sure you're imagining things, hon. These old castles are really drafty. They're playing tricks on you.”
Brett never saw so much white in her life outside of blizzards in Maine. The antique furniture was all white. The books on the shelves were white, gold, and copper. Even the stone walls gleamed white. It was like living in a snow globe. Bill's fur fit in so well, he seemed to vanish before their eyes. Come to think of it, she hadn't heard him whine in a while, since they got up there.
“You think these people like the color white much?” Adam grumbled as they ducked behind a tapestry, avoiding another Red Knight unit. “I feel like I'm in a really fancy hospital.”
She made a face. “We won't be here long. All we need to do is jump the square and get out of here.”
It took nearly ten minutes and many twists and turns before Richard stopped at an enormous, heavy wooden door painted in gold leaf. The knights and Card Guards marched mechanically through the door, looking more like red and black robots than cards and chess pieces.
“Quick, everyone!” Richard pulled them behind a row of armor along the wall. “Here.” He handed them pieces. “Everyone who isn't already wearing armor get into these. Jimmie, you can hide on my back. If the Red King is lurking around, we'll need to get in undetected.”
Brett didn't think that was such a hot idea. In fact, not only was that armor hot and heavy, but it didn't fit her or Marcia. “I just feel skinny,” she muttered as they got in formation with the marching Red Knights. “I swear, this breastplate is going to slide down any second, and then everyone will really get a show.”
“Of what?” David tried to puff out his chest to make his breastplate fit. “Mom, you have nothing to show!”
Marcia jammed the helmet over her curls. “Yeah, and that visor is going to be murder on my hair. I just had it done the other day!” She tapped Orson on the shoulder. “Have you seen Bill? He's nowhere to be found. I'm getting worried.”
“No,” Orson admitted, “I can't say I have.” He was shoving the smallest breastplate over the Doormouse's furry belly. The Doormouse was somehow managing to sleep standing on his paws. Orson pushed him along after the others.
They clattered to the back of the line marching into the throne room. Brett was glad she wore her visor. The whiteness there overwhelmed her bad eyesight. Everything sparkled like fresh snow on the farm in Maine. The whitewashed walls were painted with gold leaf and hung with gold and white woven tapestries. Gold thrones on marble stairs were covered in soft creamy silk.
“Gene? Boys?” Richard ducked out of the line and tugged on Bert's shoulder. “Bert, where's King Gene?” Bert's blank stare showed nothing but two empty black eyes where cerulean blue should have been. “Bert, what happened to you? And Larry and Greg? Where's King Gene and Queen Helen?”
Orson, with his keen rabbit nose and eyesight, realized they'd been had first. “Rich!” He gasped, pointing at the red ball peeping over the back of the throne. “That's not King Gene! It's...it's him! The other him! The one who sent Charles to Limbo!”
“Well, well.” The throne turned...revealing the easy gleaming toothpaste smile of the Red King. He held his scepter to the throat of a furiously struggling Gene Rayburn, who stood next to the throne and was held back by two Red Knights. “It seems the hare figured out the truth first. You walked right into my trap, Sir Dawson.”
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