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The Spade snorted. “Fancy diet, yeh say? For their horses? That’s a load of shit if I’ve ever heard it.”
He spit on the ground at Dinah’s feet. Behind her, Sir Gorrann cleared his throat to reprimand the man, but Dinah raised her hand, silencing him. She leveled the soldier with a glare.
“Should you disrespect me again, you’ll find yourself in shackles at the end of the line, trying your best to keep up with their steeds. If you choose differently—say, to make your way back to your post and take it upon yourself to educate others that they are not to feed the Yurkei steeds—then you may end this journey without raw wrists and bleeding feet.” She tilted her head, ignoring the urge to strike this man repeatedly.
The man dropped his eyes and bent to his knee. Dinah smiled. “It’s just, we’re tired, miss. The savage—” Dinah’s hand went to her sword at the word, but the man backed up. “Sorry. It’s just that the Yurkei all have horses, and we have none. I lost one toe on the march already, and I thought if I gave one some food, then maybe …”
“It would let you ride it? That the Yurkei warrior would walk?”
Dinah knew this would never happen—the Yurkei were deeply connected to their steeds—and yet she understood the inequality of being forced to walk all day most days when others rode. It wasn’t just about the horses; this was a bitterness that predated her reign by several decades.
Dinah had imagined herself leading an army of brave men with herself at the helm, arriving in glory and with great fanfare. Instead, she spent most of her time trying to make peace between the two factions that fought for her. She motioned for Yur-Jee to return to his horse and lead on. He nodded, and briefly Dinah recognized the obedience she’d fought so hard to gain. Her black eyes simmering, she bent over the Spade. Her newly short black hair brushed her chin.
“I hear your cries, but disrespecting the Yurkei will get you nowhere. I will offer you this: take care of the Yurkei steeds on the march. When we camp for the night, brush them, feed them—wild grasses only—and make sure they are checked for injuries. If you do this and do it well, once I am queen I will remove you from the Spades and put you in charge of incorporating the Yurkei’s understanding of animal husbandry into our new, united kingdom. We have much to learn from them.”
The Spade was sputtering now, tears forming in his eyes. What she had offered was unthinkable for a man who had never been allowed property, rights, or titles in any way.
“Yes, my queen.” He began kissing her hand repeatedly, his scratchy beard tickling her wrist.
“I’m not queen yet,” Dinah stated. “But let’s change that, shall we?”
The Spade walked away, and for a moment Dinah was proud of how she had comported herself.
With Cheshire’s help, Dinah was learning that it was far better to put offenders to use rather than impose harsh punishments. She would be foolish to do so, for it would mean the loss of these skilled fighters. This same strategy shaped her entire plan for the battle. The war council met nightly in a heavily guarded tent, always coming to the same impasse: the men would argue for lots of casualties, and yet Dinah repeated herself, again and again, “I will not hurt my people if I don’t have to.” Once Cheshire had reluctantly agreed, the plan moved forward.
At their most recent council meeting, Bah-kan had pushed himself up dangerously close to Dinah, his huge face bursting with veins. “How will we hold back the Cards if we cannot kill them? How are we to win when we must keep men alive? This is nonsense! You are sending us to our graves.”
Dinah’s face remained calm in the presence of his boiling anger, though she longed to strike him. “The Cards who fight for the King of Hearts will become my men once the war is over. I do not wish to inherit an empty palace with only ghosts to haunt its walls. We must make prisoners of as many as we can. We will spill blood in the first wave; that can’t be helped. May the gods have mercy on those men who face our swords first. But Bah-Kan, we also must be merciful. To win this battle—and the battle for the hearts and minds of the people—we must get to the king as quickly as possible. That is our priority.”
“The king will fight,” protested Starey Belft. “But he will don his armor and ride out with the mounted Heart Cards on the north side, to face Mundoo’s army. He is a fierce warrior but tires easily. As soon as the battle turns, he will retreat back inside the keep to wait for you there, sharpening his Heartsword.”
Dinah felt a twinge of fear mixed with something alarmingly seductive deep inside her. “By that time, our army should be pressing against the gates, or, by the grace of the gods, inside the gates.”
“We cannot assume that we will be inside.” Cheshire spoke quietly, as always, his long hands folded underneath his chin. “The majority of the king’s Cards will be on the north side to counter Mundoo’s army, but he will no doubt spare a few thousand for our army on the south end of the palace. We will have to cut our way to the gates, open them, get inside, make it through the palace grounds, and open up the gates on the north side so that Mundoo’s forces can enter. But if we cannot get inside quickly, the Cards will make a graveyard of our forces. We do not have the men or resources to lay a siege. We must win the first push, or else we will lose.”
There was a silence in the tent as each man and one queen weighed their fates.
Wardley broke the silence. “The king will unleash all his power. He’ll use innocent people in unthinkable ways. And then there is the matter of the Fergal archers …” He rubbed his lips, and for a second Dinah tasted them against her own. “The battle will descend into chaos quickly, where both sides will be taking heavy losses. Dinah’s right—we must overtake the king as quickly as possible. That is our purpose. Once that happens, Dinah can seize power quickly and the fighting will stop. When she is the sole ruler of Wonderland, the people will bend their knees and submit to her authority. They will have no choice. Remember, most of them fear the king. They’ve lost loved ones to his paranoia and rage. Most of these men are bakers, spoiled members of the court, farmers, fishmongers …”
“Or highly trained Heart Cards,” countered Dinah.
“Yes.” Bah-kan ran his fingers over his blade as if strumming an instrument. “Whoever they are, we will give them no choice. They will bow to the Queen of Hearts or they will die. Then we will execute the highest-ranking Cards to remind them of her power.”
Wardley flicked his hair out of his face, annoyed, and though Dinah’s heart gave a pang of pain, her face remained motionless. She turned to Bah-kan.
“No, we will not. All who declare their loyalty to me will be cleared of any charges and allowed to continue with their lives. It is the quickest way to get Wonderland back to a functioning kingdom. We cannot risk a divided city when winter is near. We’ll need every baker, fisherman, and Card.” Dinah raised her chin and the men around her nodded their consent. “When I am crowned queen, we will grant mercy to those who want it. Is this understood?”
“And to those who kill our men? Our warriors? Or what of those high-ranking court members who aided the king?” Bah-kan was stalking around the room, scowling at everyone who looked in his direction. “I’ve seen what Cards do to the Yurkei they capture. It is unforgivable. They have taken our lands, raped our women …”
“Spoken by a man who once called himself the greatest Card to ever live?” snapped Starey Belft. He turned to the group. “Do you mean that you’ve taken their lands and raped their women? Before you turned? Before you became one of them?” His voice rose. “How dare you speak against them when you were once a Card yourself?”
Bah-kan lunged for Belft but was blocked by Wardley, who leaped in between them. All parties fell to the ground in a fury of fists and shouts. Cheshire raised his eyebrow at Dinah from across the room. Her head throbbed as they tumbled at her feet. Fury rose into her chest; she had had enough.
“Sit down!” she thundered, rising to her feet. “Enough, all of you!” The three men stared at her with shock. “I am your queen and you will listen to my command. I order you to stop acting like spoiled children with your imagined hurts and prejudices. You are no better than the men out there in the tents, looking for any excuse to beat on each other. We are their leaders, and we must project to our men that we are one army. If you cannot control your emotions, how am I to believe that you can lead these men and warriors into battle?”
She whirled, unleashing her ferocity on the men seated around her.
“Bah-kan, control your temper, or this council will know your absence. Starey Belft, you may not insult Bah-kan or any Yurkei again, not in or outside of my presence. He has made his choice, and he has been an essential ally in our fight. Now, we will continue with our discussion in a civilized and dignified manner.”
The men sat like obedient children, and it occurred to Dinah that what all these warriors might need was a strong mother with a whipping spoon. She rubbed her forehead. “You have disappointed me tonight. You are dismissed.”
In silence, they filed out of the tent.
That night, as Dinah undressed for bed, she was filled with a surge of pride. Without a trace of fear, I justbelittled the greatest collection of warriors I’ve ever seen. Perhaps there is hope that I can be the queen that Wonderland deserves. This thought followed her pleasantly into sleep, but her subconscious proved to be the enemy of rest.
In her dreams, the King of Hearts stood beside her, his massive red cape snapping around them like a cold wind as they stood on a pile of Yurkei corpses. He pointed his finger at her. “I’m waiting for you.”
Dinah cried out in her sleep, but there was no one around to hear her.
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The long march north toward Wonderland Palace continued. The landscape gradually changed from the Darklands’ marshy bogs into sweeping green expanses marked occasionally by gray crags of rocks. The rocks were covered with strange etchings that only the Yurkei seemed to understand.
Today had been one of those rare days where Dinah didn’t have to speak to Wardley at all. Those were the good days, when her heart wasn’t bleeding out and her chest wasn’t constantly aching with longing.
Without meaning to, Dinah had isolated herself from the rest of her council: Sir Gorrann with his kind words and blunt advice was taxing to her nerves, Starey Belft with his grumpy mutterings made her reach for her sword. Her two Yurkei guards stayed a couple of horse lengths away from her at all times, sensing that she wasn’t in the mood for company. The only person that she could occasionally tolerate was Cheshire. He hid nothing from her and didn’t patronize. His emotionless words of war, locations, statistics, and schemes were like warm milk down her throat.
At the front of her line she sat numbly on Morte, feeling like a queen only in that she was wearing her small ruby crown. Disturbing fantasies of revenge and violence were a strange source of relief that she could indulge fully during the long hours of silent marching.
Sometimes, she imagined that Wardley would appear in the door of her tent. With his curly brown hair plastered across his forehead, his large hands would trace her cheeks. His trembling voice would confess that something had changed and that all he had ever needed was her. He would kiss her lips softly before lifting her up to meet him, and then both would be wrapped up in an ecstasy of love and passion. It didn’t happen. Deep inside her, where the core of anger was always churning now, she knew it would never be. Even if they were destructive, these images kept her awake and kept her face still and strong in front of her men. Dinah knew that no matter how she was feeling inside, she couldn’t project anything less than a statuesque strength. If she faltered, her rule would end before it began.
As the sun simmered high in the sky that afternoon, Dinah felt as though they would never be at the palace, that they would just march until they walked into the sea. With the hot sun bearing down on them, it would have been a welcome break.
She heard thundering hooves as Starey Belft rode up behind her. She closed her eyes. Please be good news, she thought. His grave face threw water on that theory.
“Another one?”
Starey nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty. A young one, marching near the back. His name was Kingsley.” The commander of the Spades paused. “He was a good lad. Had a knack for the lyre and a dirty joke.”
Oh gods, a young one. Dinah nodded. “Thank you for telling me.”
Starey placed his horse in front of Morte, who snorted angrily. “That’s the second one in two days. We need a break. We need to burn our men and tend to our bleeding feet.”
Dinah’s eyes narrowed. “I am not unaware of your sufferings. But we must meet Mundoo at the right time or this battle will be lost.”
Starey wheeled around. “If you keep marching at this pace, you won’t have an army to meet him.”
Dinah dismissed him with a wave. “I’ll take it under consideration.”
Starey turned his horse and muttered something under his breath as he moved past her. Anger ignited underneath her skin, and the black fury that was eating her from within moved her muscles without her permission. Dinah saw a flash of red, and suddenly she was swinging her leg up and around Morte’s neck, her hand reaching out to grab ahold of Starey Belft’s reins. With a wild leap, she crossed the gap between their two steeds and found herself seated behind the Spade commander, with one arm wrapped around his waist and the other holding a dagger. The sharp blade pressed into his neck.
“Do you want to say that again?” she whispered. “Say it so everyone can hear.”
Starey looked around with bewilderment. Dinah’s two Yurkei guards halted, their eyes wide with confusion.
Dinah pressed the blade harder. “Say it.”
Starey’s heart was hammering—Dinah could feel it through the back of his body. Her own heart loved the sound the fear made.
“I said …” He cleared his throat. “I said you’re just like your father, building a kingdom by the blood of our backs.”
“That’s what I thought you said.” She leaned forward, her black hair brushing his chin. “I march for you, do you know that? I march for the Spades, and for you, Starey Belft. Someday when I am queen, there will be no mutterings about me or my father.”
Her eyes met Cheshire’s, who was watching the scene with elation. It shook her out of the moment. The red faded from her eyes, and the black fury curled back into its sleeping place inside her. What the hells was she doing? Dinah dropped the dagger with surprise.
“Do not question me again,” she said weakly as she climbed off his horse.
The Spade commander stared at her for a long moment. Their eyes met and Dinah held his gaze until he looked away. Yes, that’s right, she thought. I am your master.
He coughed. “If we could have a funeral for the lads, that’d be nice. That’s all I was saying, Yer Majesty.”
“I think that’s a lovely idea.”
Dinah vaulted back up into the saddle with Morte’s help. After a moment, she raised her eyes to the sky, where a heavy rainstorm was blowing their way.
“We will stop marching for now. The men will have a break. Let’s set up camp for the night.”
“But Dinah, if we are late …” Wardley’s voice shook her inside out.
“I know the consequences,” Dinah snapped.
With a click of her tongue, she plunged away from him, letting Morte take her and her anger far away from those trying to help.
Later that evening, heavy rain from the storm blustered around them. The few Yurkei warriors who they had sent on ahead appeared as swift-moving black dots on the flat horizon. They declared that they were maybe only three days from the palace gates. My gods, three days. Dinah felt the words in the pit of her stomach, the news both invigorating and terrifying.
However, it was very welcome news to the Spades, who were beginning to look less like fearsome warriors and more like wearied travelers. The camps had seemed to be in good spirits, with laughter rising up into the afternoon sky. Dinah smiled when she heard it. Laughter these days was rare and welcome, and the sound of these grizzled men tinkled over the land like a baby’s giggle.
That evening, after the storm, the clouds broke wide open, and a flawless sky shimmered with stars. The bodies of the two fallen Spades were being laid down on a pile of wood. Clothed in a white dress and black cloak, Dinah looked over their bodies. She was surprised but not embarrassed by the tears in her eyes. She reached out a trembling hand and touched every whisker on the men’s faces before cradling their blackened, cracked heels in her hands.
Remember this, she told herself. Remember these men, and the physical cost of your reign. She let a silent tear drip down her face as she bent over them, saying empty prayers to the Wonderland gods. Her hands were placed over their still hearts, hoping to absorb their strength and take on their mission—hoping to make it through the battle they would never see.
Sir Gorrann handed her a spitting torch, and with grim determination Dinah set their bodies aflame. She stood motionless and held back tears, watching the skin of her men pull back as it slowly cooked, veins and muscle turning from living flesh into drifting flakes of ash. A large circle of black-clad Spades stood around her, all reaching forward with one hand, fully present for the last moment with their fallen comrades.
An eerie sound rose up from the other side of the camp, and Dinah clenched her teeth. It was the wails of the Yurkei.
Cheshire stepped forward and bowed his head, his purple cloak flapping behind him as he came to a stop beside her.
“They cry because they feel that we are imprisoning the souls of the Spades here in Wonderland instead of freeing them in the ground. It’s either that or that they believe we are releasing poison ash into the air. Actually, Your Majesty, it’s probably both.”
Dinah raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Ki-ershan had tried to warn her that the funerals would be a problem, but Dinah knew she had no choice; the men must be burned and the Spades must be appeased.
Her eyes lingered over the burning bodies of the men, and she jumped backward when they met the glowing eyes of Iu-Hora, the Yurkei’s doctor and the man they called the Caterpillar. His stare passed through her, seeing every thought, every dark desire. With a wicked smile, he nodded at her before disappearing into the Darklands. Dinah looked away, keeping her eyes on her fallen Spades. The Yurkei continued their loud lament, tossing insults casually across the divide.
“I’m not going to listen to this horseshit!” spat one of the Spades to her right. Dinah could feel the rising tempers of the Spades around her.
Sir Gorrann raised his arms. “Now, if everyone would just calm down. Let’s say farewell to our friends and then I’ll get yeh a drink. More than one.”
Someone started pushing forward, and Dinah found herself shoved toward the towering funeral pyre. Cheshire caught her arm and yanked her backward, saving her from a wide lick of flame. She turned, unnerved by what she saw. The barrier between the camps was lined with Spades and Yurkei facing one another, casting insults and mocking the other side.
As the flames grew higher, a sort of war hysteria was taking over the men. Starey Belft was hollering at the men at the top of his lungs, but his words were ignored. Wardley was galloping Corning up and down the line between the Spades and the Yurkei camp, daring anyone to cross the line. As gallant as he looked, he wasn’t imposing enough to stem the years of hatred that were boiling over. Dinah began violently shoving her way to the center. Sir Gorrann was beside her, his sword out, shoving Spades left and right as they tried to pass through a passionate throng that barely noticed them.
As the Yurkei’s cries of complaint rose into the sky, the Spades became unhinged, urged on by their exhaustion and grief. A few mugs of ale were lazily thrown at the Yurkei, who dodged them calmly. The Spades began spitting on the ground and cursing, blaming the Yurkei for the death of their friends.
Dread rose in Dinah’s heart as she ran forward. She had always known that her army was a simmering pot of decades-old discord and bloodlust. She had foolishly hoped that if she could just get the men to Wonderland proper, their common enemy would unite them.
“Out of the way!” she screamed, shoving aside a Spade who looked at her with disbelief. “Stand down!” She kept yelling it, but her voice was swallowed in the tide.
The Spade next to her drew his mace, and Dinah knew in that moment they would never make it to the line in time. The unrest in the air was so thick that she could almost smell it over the repulsive smell of burned bodies. After that, it all happened so quickly. Axes raised, two Spades burst out of line behind Wardley and Corning and charged toward a circle of chanting warriors. The Yurkei saw them coming and quickly nocked their arrows, aiming their points directly at the Spades’ hearts.
Dinah flung her torch to the ground and sprinted after the two Spades, her hands out in front of her. “Stop! Gods, stop! They aren’t the enemy!” she screamed, but it might as well have been the wind.
They ran forward naively, for Dinah understood what the Spades did not: that the Yurkei would win any confrontation, and when they did, it would be a massacre. Every Spade on this field would die.
The Yurkei released their arrows, which flew impossibly fast toward the Spades’ unprotected hearts. One of the Spades flung an ax into the crowd of the Yurkei. It was all going to end.
As her feet pounded the ground, Dinah heard a strange scraping sound and looked up to see the flame on the funeral pyre being sucked into the sky like a funnel.
Like the breath of an angry god, the Sky Curtain arrived.
A giant crack ricocheted through the sky, so loud that it sent Spade and Yurkei alike to their knees in fear, as if the gods themselves were breaking open the heavens. Dinah fell to the ground, but barely had time to cover her head before there was someone covering her body with his own.
She was five years old when the Sky Curtain had appeared over the Twisted Wood. All of Wonderland Palace had stopped what it was doing to watch. Members of the court and peasants alike had climbed up on their roofs to get a better view of the curtain. The streets had been flooded with people; pickpockets ran rampant. Young Dinah had climbed up on her castle balcony for a better view. She had stepped on the end of her nightgown and would have tumbled to her death if it was not for Harris scooping her up in his arms. After she was duly reprimanded, Harris put her on his wide shoulders so she could better see the curtain fluttering over the mountains. From where Dinah sat, it looked as though a giant had gathered a handful of the stars and yanked downward. Everyone living had only heard of this natural phenomenon in history books. Even as a child, it had taken her breath away. “Harris, what is it?”
“It’s a miracle from the Wonderland gods, my queen,” he said through his sniffled sobs. “Can’t you see?”
Dinah turned her head, her long, braided black hair flopping against her face. “Who is it for? Is it for me? Why does it come? How do I get it? Why is it over the Twisted Wood?”
Harris shrugged. Dinah giggled as her body flopped up and down on his shoulders.
“You have so many impatient questions, Your Majesty! You must wait for the answers to come before rattling off more questions.” He sighed. “Some say that it comes when the weather is just right, when the wind from the Western Slope meets with the wet air from the Darklands and the salty sands of the Todren.”
“But you don’t believe that?”
Harris shook his head. “I believe it’s a gift. A gift for someone who needs it. Just look at it. How could it not be seen as anything but a miracle?” They silently watched it from the palace balcony until it disappeared a few minutes later. Both were left stunned by its massive size and awe-inspiring divinity.
Harris slowly lifted Dinah off his shoulders and put her back down in her feathered bed. But she was too riled up to sit still. She bounced toward the door.
