Read Online The Looking Glass Wars by Frank Beddor - Free Book Online
Authors: Frank Beddor
Tags: Fiction, General, Fantasy, Action & Adventure, Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, Characters in Literature
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open. And Dodge, her best friend…But don‘t think about it. Don‘t! Stuck in this alien place. Alone. Don‘t—
She had to be strong. She was a princess, the future Queen of Wonderland. She shouldn‘t weep like a baby.
She took a running start toward the nearest puddle, jumped, and landed in the middle of it, splashing herself and a lady and gentleman walking past.
―Oaf! Good heavens!‖ the woman protested.
The man made as if to chase after Alyss, but she had already stamped out of the puddle and was sprinting toward another. She jumped into it and thoroughly soaked a dapper young chap who‘d just come from a visit with his tailor.
―Ugh! This cravat alone is worth more than you, you beastly thing!‖
Alyss splashed from puddle to puddle, squeezing shut her eyes as she took to the air and imagining hard that she was back in Wonderland, opening her eyes as she came down, sprays of water going every which way, only to find that she was still in this alien world.
I‘ll never find my way home. Never ever EVER!
All hope gone, she jumped up and down in a single puddle, yelling, ―No! No! No!‖ until it was impossible to tell which were her tears and which splotches of street water.
―You taking a bath or what?‖ said a boy watching from a safe distance, out of splashing range.
She stopped jumping, sniffed. The boy wore gray breeches patched at the knees and thighs, a frock coat much too big for him, the tail of which reached down practically to his heels, and cracked leather boots with no laces.
―I‘m Princess Alyss Heart of Wonderland,‖ she said defiantly.
―Yeah, and I‘m Prince Quigly Gaffer of Chelsea. That‘s one loony outfit you‘re wearing.‖
She looked down at her damp, dirty birthday dress: a flouncy thing, tight at the waist and poofing out below her knees in a cumbersomely wide circle, its collar high and floppy and ruffled. It was decorated with appliquéd hearts, in colors only available in Wonderland, and the dress was a rare sight even there, where it would be taken from the princess‘ wardrobe and aired only once a year, the royal tailors refitting it to accommodate Alyss‘ growing body.
―It‘s all I have,‖ she said, which started her crying again.
Quigly considered her for a moment. Even smudged with dirt and scum, and with tears leaking out of her eyes, there was something about the girl that intrigued him. She seemed brighter than everything around her. It was as if she were lit from within by a lantern that shone faintly through the pores of her skin.
―Better come with me if you want dry clothes, Your Majesty,‖ he said.
He started to walk off. Alyss hesitated. Half a block away, Quigly turned.
―Off we go!‖ he called, waving for her to follow.
She looked around one last time for Hatter, then abandoned her puddle. She couldn‘t afford not to have a friend.
CHAPTER 13
N O AMOUNT of Millinery training could have prepared Hatter for getting sucked through the Pool of Tears. Having somersaulted out of a puddle and landed on his feet with the agility of…well, of a cat, he let his instinct for self-protection take over. His backpack sprouted its usual array of weaponry. His steel bracelets popped open and spun in propeller-like action. He reached for his top hat but it was gone, which was bad news. Really bad news. The top hat was his signature weapon, the one he had worked the hardest to master. And he was probably going to need it, judging by the shocked and alarmed faces all around him. He had emerged from the exit portal in Paris, France, 1859, and found himself standing in the middle of a wide thoroughfare known as the Champs-Elysées. Parisians spilled their café au lait at the sight of him. His sudden appearance upset traffic, carriages veering left and right. One carriage knocked over a fruit stand, another crushed baskets of baguettes and loaves. Horses whinnied and neighed, edgy.
Who was this strangely attired man with knives and oversized
She had to be strong. She was a princess, the future Queen of Wonderland. She shouldn‘t weep like a baby.
She took a running start toward the nearest puddle, jumped, and landed in the middle of it, splashing herself and a lady and gentleman walking past.
―Oaf! Good heavens!‖ the woman protested.
The man made as if to chase after Alyss, but she had already stamped out of the puddle and was sprinting toward another. She jumped into it and thoroughly soaked a dapper young chap who‘d just come from a visit with his tailor.
―Ugh! This cravat alone is worth more than you, you beastly thing!‖
Alyss splashed from puddle to puddle, squeezing shut her eyes as she took to the air and imagining hard that she was back in Wonderland, opening her eyes as she came down, sprays of water going every which way, only to find that she was still in this alien world.
I‘ll never find my way home. Never ever EVER!
All hope gone, she jumped up and down in a single puddle, yelling, ―No! No! No!‖ until it was impossible to tell which were her tears and which splotches of street water.
―You taking a bath or what?‖ said a boy watching from a safe distance, out of splashing range.
She stopped jumping, sniffed. The boy wore gray breeches patched at the knees and thighs, a frock coat much too big for him, the tail of which reached down practically to his heels, and cracked leather boots with no laces.
―I‘m Princess Alyss Heart of Wonderland,‖ she said defiantly.
―Yeah, and I‘m Prince Quigly Gaffer of Chelsea. That‘s one loony outfit you‘re wearing.‖
She looked down at her damp, dirty birthday dress: a flouncy thing, tight at the waist and poofing out below her knees in a cumbersomely wide circle, its collar high and floppy and ruffled. It was decorated with appliquéd hearts, in colors only available in Wonderland, and the dress was a rare sight even there, where it would be taken from the princess‘ wardrobe and aired only once a year, the royal tailors refitting it to accommodate Alyss‘ growing body.
―It‘s all I have,‖ she said, which started her crying again.
Quigly considered her for a moment. Even smudged with dirt and scum, and with tears leaking out of her eyes, there was something about the girl that intrigued him. She seemed brighter than everything around her. It was as if she were lit from within by a lantern that shone faintly through the pores of her skin.
―Better come with me if you want dry clothes, Your Majesty,‖ he said.
He started to walk off. Alyss hesitated. Half a block away, Quigly turned.
―Off we go!‖ he called, waving for her to follow.
She looked around one last time for Hatter, then abandoned her puddle. She couldn‘t afford not to have a friend.
CHAPTER 13
N O AMOUNT of Millinery training could have prepared Hatter for getting sucked through the Pool of Tears. Having somersaulted out of a puddle and landed on his feet with the agility of…well, of a cat, he let his instinct for self-protection take over. His backpack sprouted its usual array of weaponry. His steel bracelets popped open and spun in propeller-like action. He reached for his top hat but it was gone, which was bad news. Really bad news. The top hat was his signature weapon, the one he had worked the hardest to master. And he was probably going to need it, judging by the shocked and alarmed faces all around him. He had emerged from the exit portal in Paris, France, 1859, and found himself standing in the middle of a wide thoroughfare known as the Champs-Elysées. Parisians spilled their café au lait at the sight of him. His sudden appearance upset traffic, carriages veering left and right. One carriage knocked over a fruit stand, another crushed baskets of baguettes and loaves. Horses whinnied and neighed, edgy.
Who was this strangely attired man with knives and oversized
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