“Then use position. The fact that you’re a queen affords you power by default. If you stand in the right places, things will change as a result. Use that. Recognize it. Things may start going the way you hope they might.”

There was a pause.

“I’ve said similar things,” the Alice said.

“Yeah,” the Queen said. “I worry because the only people willing to talk to me say similar things, but I’m not sure they’re people I should listen to.”

“A king without a kingdom,” King Rinke said.

“Let’s go with that,” the Alice said. “That’s probably it.”

There was a slight commotion, chairs moving, dishes clacking against surfaces, as the girl and the woman gathered themselves together and stood from their seats.

“Come again, Red Queen.”

“I can’t make promises, but I’ll be in the building a lot, and it’s not out of the realm of possibility.”

There were more noises, and then doors shut.

Knees pulled to her chest, tail wrapped around her, Dot felt warm and happy, her king’s words wrapped around her, filling her up.

She barely dared to move the outlet, to force her way past it, to break the spell and to try to have more.

But she had to save her king.

The King had a bodyguard, a strong soldier of a man, taller than the King, muscular, and clearly dumb. The bodyguard noticed her before the King did, and reached out to touch the King’s arm.

“Ah,” King Rinke said. He had a sad expression on his face. “They’ve been watching me closer for the better part of the morning. I suppose you’re why.”

Dot wasn’t sure what to say or do.

“Come. Can you talk?” he asked. He seated himself, his bodyguard reaching for the chair to steady it as the King sat. The King stuck one leg straight out in Dot’s direction.

“Yes,” she said. She leaped forward in the same way and lurching way her heart leaped into her chest. She ran up and along his leg, up him, to him. Clawed fingers and feet clutched for the fabric of his shirt. His gray-touched beard tickled her head and back.

She could smell him and he smelled like home, like family and love. She felt his hand on her back, and she felt it pet her.

She could have cried, if she weren’t so dehydrated, if so much of her body’s energies and fluids hadn’t gone into bleeding and healing. Every ache and pain, from hours of clinging to a shuddering train to fighting rats and scaling a building interior, prying her way past sealed building fixtures, it became a dull, throbbing reassurance that she’d done right.

“You worked hard to get here.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“You’re the third to get this far. One of only two that could talk.”