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He started to leave but hesitated and added one more thought. He raised his arms, as if scooping up the sky.
“Let it define you.”
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By the next evening, Dinah’s army had reached the outer villages of Wonderland proper. She circled Morte around the settling troops as they nervously unpacked their camp. Dinah’s heart hammered quietly in her chest as she looked around. For quite some time, they had seen only the natural, magical places of Wonderland and Hu-Yuhar. Now that she could just make out the buildings on the horizon, Dinah knew there was no turning back. It had been a long time since she had seen buildings of wood, glass, and stone. They had arrived—Wonderland proper began just over the nearest crag.
The small villages of Wonderland proper held townsfolk and craftsmen, but mostly farmers. If she squinted, she could see fields of crops and dewy pink flowers, dotting the horizon like a blossoming petal stretched thin on the ground. They were lovely in their overgrown tangle.
Her army proceeded to unpack its gear around her, and Dinah began assisting her men where they would let her. What should have taken hours took minutes, and soon all the Spades and Yurkei settled quietly into their tents on opposite sides of the field. The sighs of weary men could be heard as the daylight began to wane. She ordered that the packs of food be opened, and that each man get twice his normal amount. The men would eat well tonight. This, at least, she could give them.
Dinah rode Morte up the neighboring hills, climbing to where she could see the dilapidated blades of a windmill creaking in the breeze. She took a deep, terrified breath. They were on the cusp of battle. Up ahead was Callicarpa, a small town at the bottom of a low valley, with its famous old windmill marking its farthest northern border. From the town center, plains climbed steadily upward until they encountered a sudden and violent slope down into the meadow that surrounded Wonderland Palace. She stared at the town. It was eerily still. She turned around on Morte to speak to her guards.
“I’m going down to look at Callicarpa. Something seems strange about it.”
“No!” snapped Yur-Jee, using his new favorite word. He was still warming up to Dinah. “This not task for queen.” He cleared his throat and commanded something in Yurkei.
Before long, Bah-kan rode up beside them, his damp chest hair glistening in the sunlight, his large blade clutched closely against his leg. It’s like seeing a bear ride a horse, Dinah thought. Even though astride Morte she was several feet taller than he was, Bah-kan leveled his gaze at Dinah. She felt small in comparison.
“Take twelve of your finest warriors ahead to the town. Do not harm or touch anything or anybody. We simply want to see if it will be safe to cross through. Return in less than an hour’s time. This is a scouting mission, not an attack.”
Bah-kan smiled at Dinah before he galloped down the hill to handpick his men. The Yurkei quickly mounted and soon were stampeding toward Dinah, happy to be doing something. She watched silently as the Yurkei whirled past her on their pale steeds, her short hair fluttering in their breezy wake.
“They are so … swift,” she noted with a smile. She turned to Sir Gorrann, who had ridden up beside her. “How can we train the Spades to move that quickly?”
Sir Gorrann gave a deep laugh. “Oh, my queen. Yeh make me chuckle. There is nothing yeh could do to train those men to move like the Yurkei.”
Morte gave an impatient snort and began driving his hooves deep into the ground. He shifted so violently that Dinah was almost pitched from the saddle. It was a long way down, something she knew well.
“What’s wrong with yer beast?” asked Sir Gorrann.
“He wants to go.” She climbed off him, wincing at the pain in her shoulder as she gripped the reins above.
“Does that still hurt yeh?” The Spade tilted his head, concerned.
“Not much,” she answered, rubbing the sore spot where the chief of the Yurkei had stabbed her with a shallow blade. “It’s my daily reminder of Mundoo’s long memory.”
Sir Gorrann leaned over and rested his hand lightly on her cheek. “And how is yer heart these days? Healing?”
Dinah looked up at him with suddenly blurry black eyes. “That is not your business, sir.”
She slapped Morte on his hindquarters and he happily galloped off in the same direction as the Yurkei horses.
“How do you know he’ll come back?”
“I don’t.” Dinah gave a small smile as she began picking wild herbs. She could add them to the scouting party’s stew late tonight, one more way to show the men that while she ruled over them, she served them as well. “Morte is not my steed. He is a soldier, under my command, and I am likewise under his command. We are equals.”
“And do yeh trust him in battle, Your Majesty? Have you ever seen a Hornhoov in battle?” Sir Gorrann looked down skeptically from Cyndy’s back.
“I have not. Well”—she paused—“I did see him kill a white bear.”
He dismounted and began helping her set up her tent. Dinah liked being just outside the camp, away from the group. It gave her room to breathe. Slowly, he unfurled the linen flaps that made up the entrance. “Yer father—er, sorry, I mean the king—raided some of the outlying Yurkei territories when yeh were just a babe. During those skirmishes, I saw two Hornhooves in battle. One was Morte. The other one was white and massive, even bigger than he is.”
“And?”
“They were utterly without mercy. They crushed men like insects under their hooves. Those beasts ran straight into the fold, killing without remorse, even their own men. They would stomp a man to death while impaling another on their bone spikes. I saw a Yurkei spear the white Hornhoov right through the flank, and the beast didn’t even flinch. It had arrows sticking out of its face. It just kept killing and killing, until someone attempted to sever its head from its body. The Hornhoov killed that man as well, just before its massive head fell from its body.”
Dinah could feel the blood draining from her face. “Morte wouldn’t …”
“He would. I beg of yeh, do not forget his true nature. When yeh bring him into a battle, yer releasing carnage itself. He could kill yeh, and think of how embarrassing it would be to lose yer life to yer own horse just when yer winning the war. Think about that!” He groaned. “Then Cheshire will hurry to set himself as king. Aye, and no one wants that.”
Cheshire as king? Dinah had never considered it. Either she would be queen, or she would die, and so would all those loyal to her. The thought that anything else could happen was unnerving.
“What I’m saying, Yer Majesty, is be careful with him. I do not think Morte would ever intentionally hurt yeh, but once he is in the thick of battle, he might not know what he’s doing.”
“I hear what you are saying, Sir Gorrann. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”
Together, they pitted the poles into the ground and pulled Dinah’s tent up. She watched in awe as her black Spade banners curled out on the wind, snapping in the sharp breeze. A talented painter among the Spades had amended the banners to include a red heart, broken down the middle and shifted off center. It was her sigil, same as the one painted on her breastplate. A truer symbol had never been assigned, because her heart was not whole.
Later that evening, Dinah was sitting on a log in front of the tent, looking out in the direction of the palace, when Bah-kan returned with the Yurkei scouting party. The throng of Yurkei warriors surrounded her tent with their pale horses, the men’s glowing blue eyes all trained on Dinah. Bah-kan dismounted and walked over to where she sat.
“We searched the village, and the two villages beyond it. They are empty, Your Majesty. Each house and farm has been deserted, stripped of food, weapons, and livestock. We assume that the king has pulled all the villagers inside the palace walls. All available men have most likely been called up to battle.” He paused and rubbed his stubbly face. “While this does not bode well for our numbers, it at least guarantees our safety when we march through the villages tomorrow. There is no danger to be found where there are no enemies.”
Dinah thanked the warriors before releasing them to rest for the night. She sent Sir Gorrann to sleep as well, for she needed her loyal Spade at his best when they arrived at the palace. He bowed graciously before kissing Dinah on the forehead. “Sleep well, Queen.”
Her favorite Yurkei guard, Ki-ershan, lingered behind and sat down beside her tent, pulling a piece of bread from his bag. “Ji-hoy? How to say it? Uhh … roll?” he asked. She nodded. “Roll!” His Wonderlander speech was still broken but improving.
Dinah gladly took the roll and broke it open, releasing the rush of warm honey butter inside. “I’ll miss these,” she noted as she chewed. “This might be my last taste of Yurkei bread.”
Ki-ershan seemed nervous and quieter than normal, and Dinah’s curiosity was roused. She nudged him. “Well, out with it.”
“Your Majesty … I have request of you.”
“Yes?”
“I would like to stay with you. As guard, once you are queen. It would bring me great honor to”—he stumbled over his words—“serve you. I could be a bridge between my people and Wonderland.” He gestured out from his chest and then bonded his hands together.
Dinah was touched and laid her hand upon his soft cheek. “Ki-ershan, I would be honored to have you guard me. But are you sure that you don’t want to return to Hu-Yuhar? Wonderland Palace is a very different place from your peaceful city. You would feel much less free there, and I can warn you from experience that the life of royalty can sometimes be very dull.”
Ki-ershan smiled. “It would not be … dull.” He tasted the new word on his tongue. “My wife died last year. She had the sickness in Hu-Yuhar. Iu-Hora tried to save her, but he was too late and his potions only eased her pain. She has passed into the sky; her soul rests in the valley of the cranes. Nothing is left for me there. Gye-dohur. Done. Protecting you is my life now. I could be translator for the Yurkei.”
Dinah gave him a dazzling smile, and he blushed. “That would please me very much. Thank you for honoring me with your request.” Dinah gave him a slight nod of her head, but Ki-ershan caught her chin on his finger.
“You may not bow to me. You are queen, and I will bow to you.” He awkwardly bowed before her and retreated a few feet to his tent, which was attached to Dinah’s. This was more than just mere courtesy—the Yurkei did not bow to Dinah, only to Mundoo, and so Ki-ershan had just committed his life to Dinah as his queen and leader. She found herself deeply moved.
As the night turned late, all the camp was silent. The collective breath of an army of nervous men was more deafening than any sound Dinah had ever heard. She was dressing for bed when her tent flap opened and Cheshire ducked his head through the entrance. She hastily pulled her robe shut, and he turned away awkwardly.
“Your Majesty, I’m sorry to catch you unaware.”
“I was just turning in, though I doubt sleep will come. Is something amiss?”
Cheshire pushed his way into her tent, though he was thoroughly uninvited. “Would you like to see the palace?” he whispered. His words caught Dinah off guard.
“What?”
“Come with me. Quietly.” She followed him outside, and they both climbed onto his red mare. Ki-ershan and Yur-Jee, always at the ready, shadowed on their horses. In minutes, they had reached the abandoned town. The windows stared at Dinah with their empty, dead eyes. It gave her the feeling of being watched. The horses galloped up a few vistas beyond the abandoned village before coming to the windmill that Dinah could see from her tent. With a grunt, Cheshire shoved open a rickety door to the windmill, his dagger drawn menacingly.
“You don’t need that,” hissed Dinah. “There is no one in this town.”
“You can’t be too careful,” he answered calmly.
“Wait out here,” Dinah instructed the two Yurkei. “We will be right back down.”
“I’ll go with you, my queen.” Ki-ershan dismounted his pale horse and brought up the rear, leaving Yur-Jee outside. Following closely behind Cheshire, Dinah wound up the spiral staircase that led onto the roof. The building smelled of rotting wood and the fetid stench of standing water. The giant heaving windmill blades vibrated through the walls and made a low growl as they spun around the well-worn axle. Once they reached the top, Cheshire seemed to step outside into thin air. Dinah cautiously followed, her feet finding a small ledge lined with a broken railing. She grasped Cheshire’s hand and stepped out onto the balcony. A summer wind rippled around them, and Cheshire’s plum cloak billowed out from the ledge like a banner. The ledge faced north, and for such a paltry structure, its view was made for a king.
A few villages covered the landscape, black dots on a sea of green-and-yellow grasses. Pale trails of moonlight cast long shadows on the valley, though the pebbled road quietly reflected its light. There were no signs of life in any of the villages. There was nothing to see, with the exception of Wonderland Palace, rising up in the distance, its glorious spires brushing the sky, with the ominous tips of the Black Towers looming behind them.
From there, Dinah could even see the outline of the Royal Apartments, spiraling red-and-white stones that seemed to reach into the heavens. She could just make out the tall iron wall that encircled the castle, the gates that her men would hopefully break open in a day. The palace pulsed with a warm light cast from its thousands of red stained-glass windows. From this balcony, she could even make out the largest heart window, the one that poured its light into the Great Hall. The Great Hall, where the King of Hearts gathered his generals, no doubt preparing to launch his massive defense of the palace. Where he drunkenly laughed at the idea of defeat at the hands of his weak daughter and the Yurkei chief.
“Do you think—”
She didn’t get a chance to finish her question. A shadow rose out of the barren village, moving quickly and flying toward them. She opened her mouth to yell, but it was too late. An arrow grazed her cheek and buried itself deep into the mill behind her. When she turned, she could see a red glass heart quivering in its nock.
Dinah leaped back and Ki-ershan shoved past, pushing his torso in front of her and pressing her against the wall behind him. He turned to shield her beneath his arm. Cheshire ducked just as another arrow whistled past his head. His black eyes were wide with fear as he screamed at them both. Two more arrows thunked into the wood above their heads.
“Get the queen inside! Where is that coming from? Ki-ershan? Can you see it?” Ki-ershan, still crouched like a protective animal over Dinah, raised his head.
“There!” He pointed. A small, lone figure was running away from the mill, a bow at his side. Ki-ershan screamed something in Yurkei, and Dinah saw Yur-Jee sprinting after the figure. Dinah’s voice was caught in her throat as she watched Yur-Jee quickly gaining on the shadow. Suddenly the Yurkei stopped running, took a deep breath, and raised his bow, a pale arrow nocked on the bowstring.
“Stop!” Dinah cried, but it was too late. In a flash, Yur-Jee released the arrow and it buried itself deep in the figure’s back. The small figure pitched forward into the dirt. Ki-ershan grabbed Dinah’s arm and yanked her to her feet, pulling her down the rickety stairs. Cheshire, breathing loudly, followed, a dagger clutched to his chest. They ran toward Yur-Jee, who had propped the figure up, his knife at the man’s throat. As Dinah approached, her heart sank. It wasn’t a man. It was a tall boy, no more than thirteen, pale and wild-eyed. He drew labored breaths that Dinah knew would be his last. A black stain spread rapidly on the front of his shirt. Yur-Jee stepped away and the boy crumpled to the ground.
“Don’t go near him,” Cheshire warned as they approached. “He’s an assassin.”
“He’s a boy,” snapped Dinah. She knelt beside the boy, taking him gently in her arms. He was almost the same age as Charles, but with curly red hair and a generous dotting of freckles. Flecks of blood covered his mouth, and the point of the arrow protruding from his small chest rose and fell with each breath. Dinah laid her hand over the wound and pulled the boy close. His eyes opened and shut at random as he stared at her face. He coughed up blood as he tried to speak.
“Are you the Queen of Hearts?”
Dinah nodded and touched his hair gently. “Why did you do this? Where is your family?” The boy’s eyes were fluttering now, and Dinah gave him a soft shake. “Look at me. It’s going to be all right. Why did you try to kill me?”
“The king … the king … he took my family, and he said that if I didn’t kill you, he would kill my parents.” His unfocused eyes lingered on Dinah’s face. “I’m sorry. Please don’t …” His mouth gave a final tremble, and he pulled himself up to Dinah’s ear before resting against her neck. “There is one of us in each village.” His body gave a convulsive shake and a raspy rattle passed through his mouth, his sour breath washing over Dinah’s cheek.
She looked into his eyes. “I’ll protect your family when I am queen. I promise.”
A small smile dashed across his face before his cloudy eyes stared out at nothing. His chest stopped heaving. He was gone.
Dinah slowly laid his body down on the ground and used her sleeve to wipe the blood from his mouth. He looked so much like Charles. The same eyes, the same determined mouth. This wasn’t an accident. Images of her brother’s fractured limbs flooded her mind, of his eyes staring motionless at the stars. She thought of Lucy and Quintrell in a bloody pile, of the dark spot underneath Charles’s head, of the crown he made that she would never wear.
Without a word, she stood up and began walking back to camp.
“Your Majesty …,” Cheshire called after her.
“Bury him!” she barked in reply.
Cheshire followed her. “He tried to kill you.”
Dinah whirled on him. “Only because the king threatened his family! He was innocent, and we buried an arrow in his back.” Her shoulders shuddered. “We shot a child.”
Cheshire was insistent.
“Yur-Jee could not tell that he was a child. He saw an assassin, one who almost put an arrow through your neck. It is the essence of war, painted in shades of gray that no philosopher could sort out. He tried to kill the queen. We could not let that stand. What if he got away? Made it back to the palace? What if he had been spying on us the entire time?”
Dinah nodded. “I understand your point, Cheshire, but you need to hear mine. I’ll not have my army killing children, whatever the circumstances. In the future, anyone who does will answer to me. You and Yur-Jee will bury the child. With your hands.”
Cheshire’s eyes darkened. “Watch your tone, daughter, lest you forget who you fight. In two days, we will march on the palace, and there will be no mercy for any of us. Remind yourself why you lead this army and steel your dark heart. There is more blood ahead than you could imagine.”
Cheshire turned, but Dinah grabbed his arm. “My dark heart beats just fine,” she snapped before letting go. “And it’s big enough to sustain my rage and my mercy.”
Cheshire stared at her for a long moment before dropping his head. “If you say so. If it is your wish, I will help bury the child.”
Dinah held his gaze. “Good.”
She was left alone, huddled in the dark, as the men worked nearby to bury the ginger-haired boy. Her hands and neck were covered with slick blood that she frantically tried to wipe on the dried grass at her feet. It wouldn’t come off. Dinah raised her hands to the moonlight, illuminating her wet palms. A queen’s hands, she told herself.
Hands trembling, she pushed herself to her feet and raised her weary head. I am the queen, she told herself over and over again until she felt it thrumming through her body, hoping it would stiffen her resolve. Behind her, she could hear the sounds of earth showering down onto the boy’s body, the child resting forever in the cool ground. She stared in the direction of the palace. Her tears dried on her cheeks. She let Cheshire’s advice wash over her.
She would let the fury define her, not the mercy. It was too painful.
“I am coming for you,” she whispered to the night air, to the King of Hearts, a man who made a habit of killing children. She rested her hand on her sword as she let her rage writhe through her veins. There were no stars that night, for even they trembled at what lay before them.
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Dawn came early on the morning of battle, marked by a light rain that gently peppered the ground. The weather seemed to agree that this forlorn day had finally arrived. The rain fell lightly on her tent, making a lulling sound. Dinah lay still and concentrated on not opening her eyes. She knew that once she opened them, it would begin. By nightfall, her fate would be determined—either she would sit proud and triumphant upon the Heart throne, or she would be buried in the wet Wonderland earth, forever scorned as a traitor to her people.
Every day since she had left the palace, Dinah opened her eyes with the expectation that she might die. Still, today was different. Today death was not an unknown figure whispering between the trees. Today she would challenge death to a duel, a game in which the odds lay against her in spades. A hysterical laughter bubbled out of her, a mad laugh that made her sound just like Charles. In Spades. Her calloused hands trembled under her thin blanket.
It was the image of his broken body that finally forced open her black eyes, awash in tears. She stared at the roof of the tent, listening to the sounds of her army outside. Finally, Dinah rose slowly and washed her face in a basin of ice-cold water. A tray of hearty food had been left out for her—by Wardley, probably. Her stomach was knotted so tightly that it hurt to breathe. She forced herself to shove down a few eggs and a crust of bread. It would have to do.
For a few moments, she sat silently on the edge of her cot, staring through a small hole in her tent at the naked plains of Wonderland, dotted with black Spades and painted Yurkei horses.
“I am the queen,” she whispered to herself. She tried repeating the phrase over and over again, but her words faltered, tangled up inside her throat, caught in a knot of fear. She was staring at herself in the looking glass when Sir Gorrann poked his head through the tent flap.
“It’s time, Yer Majesty.”
Dinah looked up at the Spade, brave and powerful in his shining black armor.
