Queen of Hearts (The Crown)

by Colleen Oakes

  “What is the quickest way to the Iron Web?”

  Cray pointed down two levels. “See that iron poker hanging there? Between those two cells, there is a door to the web.”

  Dinah’s feet flew as they sprinted down the platforms, spiraling lower and lower. Prisoners called out from their cells, extending their blackened hands to grab at Dinah. Cray motioned to a tattered rope lying on the ground between two cells. “Follow the rope out to the Iron Web. From there, you’re on your own. I have to return to Faina’s cell before anyone notices I was gone.”

  From the corner of her eye, Dinah saw Wardley spin, his black Club cape flashing behind him. In a second, he was behind Cray, his sword pressed across Cray’s pale neck.

  “You will tell us what Faina said, or you will die here, and I can assure you, no one will ever investigate how a spineless coward lost all his blood.”

  Cray gave a squeak. “She didn’t say much, not much of nothing. It’s mostly madness. When she came in, she was gagged, she was! When we took it out, she would just cry and say, ‘She’ll wear a crown to keep her head! She’ll wear a crown to keep her head!’”

  Cray began blubbering loudly. Too loudly. Wardley brought the butt of his sword down against Cray’s temple and he crumpled to the ground like an empty sack.

  “Put the ring in his pocket. This is safer. He’ll never want to tell someone that he was so easily overcome in his own prison or that he was bribed. Coward.” Wardley spat on his face and picked up the end of the rope. Thankfully, Cray had been telling the truth, and the rope led them to a misshapen door that opened to the bright Wonderland sky. Moving as quickly as they dared without attracting attention, Dinah and Wardley navigated their way over the web back to the Murderers’ Tower. Returning to the path they had arrived on required quite a bit of climbing and backtracking; several times they ended up on an iron walkway that led to a different tower, and one time into open sky.

  “A trap for escapees,” mumbled Wardley as they slowly backed away from the steep drop that ended on a rocky outcropping just inside the palace gates. “Let’s not go that way again.”

  It took an hour, but finally they were able to find the correct path through the maze and make their way to a low door that led into the Murderers’ Tower. The smell once again overpowered Dinah’s senses. But this time, she didn’t have time to retch. They were sprinting now, this time up the spiral, to where the forgotten door led them to the pool of ice. They could hear the marching of Clubs making their way up the spiral behind them. The next shift of Clubs was coming, and if they didn’t hurry, they would have to explain themselves to an entire deck of Cards. Dinah thought of the crown in her bag. She would grab it if she needed it.

  “There, there is the door!” shouted Wardley as they flew past cells and rancid chamber pots. A prisoner’s hand grabbed Dinah’s dress through the cell bars and she was yanked off her feet. She hit the ground hard as the prisoner pulled her toward the cell. Dinah delivered a firm kick to the scarred hand beneath the heels of her boot. She jerked her dress free as the prisoner began screaming. They were almost to the door when Wardley bucked to a sudden stop and jumped sideways into a tiny slot in the wall, pulling Dinah in after him. This wasn’t a doorway, rather, an impossibly narrow storage chamber for clamps and chains. They could both barely fit, and Dinah found herself pressed face first against the wall with Wardley wrapped around her.

  “Yoous,” whispered Wardley into her ear, “he can’t see us, or we will be done for. Don’t even breathe.”

  His warning didn’t matter; Dinah couldn’t. A single black root, sensing an open presence, was twisting its way up her torso, her breasts, and then onto her face. Something in the tree paralyzed her, and so she could only watch with horror as the delicate tendril reached her mouth and clawed its way inside, choking her. It sprouted a second root that started pushing into her nostrils. She wanted to cry out to Wardley, but she couldn’t. Dinah was part of the tree now, and she would be forever. Visions rushed through her mind—visions of decapitated heads, white cranes, blue smoke, burning wood, pulsating mushrooms, and bright-red blood. And then she was falling, falling forward, falling into the darkness that was warm and comforting. Wardley’s strong arm caught her as she pitched forward.

  “Dinah, Dinah?”

  She opened her eyes. She was still in the Towers, still in the slot between cells. Wardley held a broken root in his hand, his sword in the other. They watched as it twisted and writhed before turning into ash. Wardley wiped his hand on his tunic with disgust.

  “The tree . . . ,” she mumbled.

  “You leaned against it,” reprimanded Wardley. “You let it touch your skin, what were you thinking?”

  Dinah shook her head. The visions were gone, already retreating back into her brain, already forgotten. “Yoous?” she asked as Wardley steadied her.

  “He passed. We’re only one level down from where we need to be. Can you walk?”

  Dinah inched one foot out in front of her. “I’m fine.” The longing to escape these towers of death was overwhelming. “We should never have come here, Wardley. I’m sorry.”

  “You should be,” Wardley replied. They made it to the same doorway without further trouble, and Dinah marveled at how hidden it was in plain sight, virtually indistinguishable from the roots around it. Their escape hatch waited quietly—its crooked door pouring freezing air into the damp humidity of the towers. Dinah had never seen such a welcome sight. They made their way down the stone teeth, her eyes trained on the skeleton sentry, forever frozen in the ice, forever watching the towers that held him. Dinah let her eyes play over the white holes where his eyes once were, over the gray pieces of skin crusted to the ice. She could feel the terrible vision seeping into her memory, etching its sightless stare there forever.

  The thought filled her with terror as they wove their way back under the castle, sliding down the sloping tunnel they had crawled up hours before. She barely remembered the cold and the dark, Wardley leading their way with the glowing pink torch through turn after turn. They silently raced through the Great Hall, finding their way back to the cloak room without a word. It was only when Wardley started pulling off her dress did Dinah blink and realize where they were . . . and that they were safe.

  Her lips trembled. “Wardley, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. . . .”

  “No you didn’t,” Wardley snapped. “But I tried to tell you. No one can tell you anything, Dinah, not ever, because you’re the Princess and you do what you want. You’re not unlike your father that way.”

  Dinah gritted her teeth. “That’s not true, is it?”

  “Yes. Obviously.” He pulled off his filthy Card’s breastplate and stuffed it into his oversack. “We’re both filthy. Wipe your face and hands.”

  He turned away from her, and Dinah knew this conversation was over. She wiped off the dirt, layers thick, on a bright-red cloak toward the back of the room. The red reminded her of Faina’s blood-stained mouth, and of her cryptic words, “She’ll wear the crown to keep her head.” Pity and shame ran through her, so strong it made her tremble as she pulled on her expensive silk gown and put on her jeweled shoes, completely lost in her thoughts. The towers were a stain on Wonderland, a blood stain that spread out from their terrible black roots, and through the centuries the Royal Line of Hearts had used them for evil. They weren’t regular prisons—they were instruments of torture, of horror and wickedness.

  As she raised her hands to put her red crown back on her head, she felt her first recognition of duty. To be the Queen meant to protect her subjects, even if it was from the practices of the royal family themselves. The Towers were Wonderland’s terrible secret, a monstrosity for the entire kingdom to see and never understand. And when she was Queen, she would tear them down root by sickly root.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by Wardley, his brown hair standing out in all directions, a streak of earth lingering on his cheek. Dinah lowered her head before him. “Forgive me for asking this of y
ou. I didn’t truly understand what I was asking.” She licked her finger and brushed it lightly against his face, erasing the dirt from his strong cheekbone. “I will never forget what I saw today.”

  Wardley shook his head. “The towers are a monstrosity. All my life I heard rumors and stories about them, but none were as terrible as—” He paused, and Dinah saw his eyes fill with tears. “We should have taken her . . . Faina.”

  “We couldn’t,” she replied simply. “We wouldn’t have made it out in time, and they would have known we were there.” She was learning quickly that what was right and what must happen weren’t always the same thing. Dinah heard a quiet shuffling outside the door—the Cards were obviously curious about the suspected passion going on inside the cloak room.

  “It’s time,” she said.

  “You don’t have the ring anymore,” said Wardley. Dinah turned the handle to the cloak room door, aware that she would never again be the naive girl who entered it.

  Her eyes were dark when she turned around. “I’ll take care of it. I have a sapphire brooch twice its size in my chambers.” Her face glowed with determination. Wardley’s breath was loud behind her as the door opened, and she saw a mangled grin stretch the corners of Roxs’s face.

  “Enjoyed yourselves, did ya?”

  Dinah cleared her throat and his smile quickly disappeared.

  Chapter Eleven

  Harris was unbearable when he was determined that Dinah learn something. “No, you’re late, you’re late again. You keep coming in late.”

  Dinah angrily shoved her books off the table. They landed with a thud at Harris’s feet.

  “There are more important things to do than sit here and repeat verbatim the Wonders of Wonderland.” She crossed her arms in a huff. “This kingdom is falling apart, and I’m looking at pictures and reciting rhymes, like a child.”

  Harris pushed his glasses up. “What makes you say that the kingdom is falling apart, my dear? The Line of Hearts has never been stronger. Wonderlanders love the King, and—”

  Dinah interrupted him. “They don’t love him. They fear him. There is a difference.”

  “Fear is not always a bad thing. When you are Queen, you should strive for both. These are things you should think about, child. You will soon be Queen.”

  Dinah begrudgingly helped her guardian gather the books from the floor, and watched as he sat down across from her, his bushy white eyebrows wiggling with maddening glee. “Dinah, may I say something?”

  Dinah sighed. “You may.”

  “Part of being a good ruler is the constant education and finesse of the mind. The past should govern how you will shape your rule. Learn from the mistakes of your predecessors, glean understanding from the history of the Royal Line of Hearts, and understand the lay of your land—and how it came to be so. Now tell me, the Wonders of Wonderland are. . . .”

  “The Sky Curtain, the Twisted Wood, the Ninth Sea, Wonderland Palace, and the Yurkei Mountains.”

  Harris sat back, satisfied. “You know these well.”

  Dinah did know them well. In fact, she had been studying up on her land every evening as she lay in bed. In the two months that had passed since her journey into Wonderland’s depraved prison system, Dinah was reading more than she ever had before, late into the night. She would do anything to keep the memories and dreams of the Black Towers away. Still, no matter how mentally exhausted she made herself, her last thoughts before sleeping would be Faina Baker’s grim face as a black root twisted its way into her mouth. More often than not, her dreams were dark and demented—not unlike the towers themselves—and she would wake drenched in sweat and flooded with panic, clawing at her own mouth.

  While her learning had increased tenfold, her patience with lessons and the daily routine of the castle had ceased to exist. Suddenly she could not stand the long introductions, the formality of the court, the ridiculous routines and practices that took up more than half the day. For gods’ sake, she thought, taking a gulp of tea, it takes me two hours or so to eat breakfast and get dressed. So much could be done in that time.

  As if he could read her thoughts, Harris began picking up the books and putting them back on the bookshelves that lined Dinah’s walls. “I see Your Majesty is in no mood for lessons today. Are you sure that nothing is bothering you? You have been sullen and withdrawn lately, which is not very princess-like behavior, especially with your coronation coming up in a few weeks.”

  Dinah simply shook her head. She could tell no one about what she had seen. This kind of news would surely kill Harris, who had slowed down in recent years. And while she trusted her twitchy tutor, she loved him too, and she would never drag him into something dark.

  “Thank you, Harris. I’m just tired. And I long to begin my rule.”

  “Do not wish that too early, Your Majesty. Once you begin it, you may long for your childhood days once again.”

  I’ll never have those again, thought Dinah, not now that I know what lingers beyond the palace. Dinah stood up and brushed off her maroon-and-white-striped dress. “I think I’m going to visit Charles this morning. Please tell the servants to pass the message along.”

  Harris clapped his hands. “That sounds like a brilliant idea. Please tell Lucy and Quintrell that I send my regards.”

  Dinah nodded absently as she fiddled with the small bird in her hair. Emily walked up behind her and clipped it firmly to the side of Dinah’s head. “That looks lovely, My Lady.”

  Dinah made a rumbling sound in her throat. No matter how much she tried, she could not bring herself to care about Wonderland fashion.

  She walked briskly through the palace. Everywhere she went, her pace was now brisk, now that she had two Heart Cards trailing her every move. This is how it feels to be Queen, she told herself, so I better get used to it. The click-clack of boots behind her reminded her with every step that she was never truly alone.

  Quintrell was waiting for her outside Charles’s door. “My Queen!” he bowed.

  “Not yet,” smiled Dinah. “How is he today?” she asked.

  “Strangely melancholy,” he replied, relieving the Cards and ushering Dinah inside. “This last week he has not been himself. His mood is one of despair, and most of the time Lucy finds him weeping in corners or screaming at the walls. He seems fascinated with stars and shadows, though his work has been focused solely on the concept of shadows, all black and shades of gray. It’s hard for us to see him this way. It has resulted in some of the most beautiful hats I’ve ever seen, though.” He let out a defeated sigh. “The Mad Hatter has never been more exceptional in his talent, but our Charles is strangely detached.”

  Dinah rested her hand on his shoulder. “Thank you for telling me. I’m so grateful that Charles has such loving servants.”

  “Wait until you see what he has made for your coronation.”

  One month, thought Dinah. Only one more month until I will rule beside my father.

  Charles’s crooked quarters were more disarrayed than normal. Dinah waded through ankle-deep hats to reach the stairwell on which Charles precariously sat. One leg dangled off into nothing, and he seemed intensely focused on a tooth he held in one hand. Dinah winced.

  “Hello, Charles. Is that your tooth?”

  Charles blinked several times, his green eye staring at her while his blue one wandered to the right. His mouth was bloody. She gently wiped his lips with the sleeve of her dress as he grinned at her. “Two tooths too many to bite.”

  She shook her head. He leapt up, and Dinah steadied herself on a twisted wicker railing that looped overhead.

  With wide eyes, he stared at her. “Do you know what the whispering mountains cry? They scream for their freedom! Then it’s goodnight, goodnight, goodnight, all of Wonderland in a steaming pile.” Charles flung his tooth off the ledge and danced down the stairs before her. As they reached the bottom, his face went from enchantment to hysterics. “Tooth! I need it, I need it, fiddle dee, tooth for tooth!” He began to search franti
cally in a pile of hats, which flew overhead as he tunneled beneath them.

  “It’s here, Charles.” Dinah had seen the tooth land on a pile of spotted teal feathers. She plucked it up and scrubbed it with a piece of sunrise-colored silk. He snatched it out of her hand and held it up to the light. “Ivory. Bone. Black on black texture with the teeth of different animals. A hat for a horde. A hat for a—” he did a little jig, “a warrior! A man that carried heads in a bag!”

  He wrapped his hand around Dinah’s. It surprised her a little. Charles reluctantly let her touch him sometimes, but he was never the instigator. His mismatched eyes looked up into hers. “Come and see. Come and see,” he whispered, repeating the phrase over and over. He led her under the maze of staircases into a small backroom. This was where he usually stored buttons of every size and make, but the room had been cleared, and it was empty. Empty except for a crown.

  It sat on a wooden stool, and an open window filtered in just enough light so that it glittered and shimmered in the sun. Dinah felt the air whoosh out of her lungs. It was magnificent, a work of art of the highest order, unlike anything she had ever seen. The thick base was of brushed silver, inlaid with thousands of tiny white diamonds, all in the shape of hearts. Individual tree branches rose up from the hearts, leaping and twisting into a solid second circle that finished the top of the crown. The detail became more incredible the closer Dinah looked. The branches, when inspected, were patterned into tiny faces, their flowered mouths open in a scream. Stars, flickering in the light, hung from thin bands of silver among the creeping branches. Four Card symbols connected the vines from the sides of the crown to the top, where a diamond heart inlaid with a bird in flight sparkled in the light. The heart, she could see, had been cut in half and reassembled so it sat a tiny bit askew.

  She was speechless. It was not only ten times her crown; it was ten times her father’s crown. Nothing like this had been made in Wonderland, not ever. It was the most astonishing crown she had ever seen, truly a combination of art and extraordinary skill. It blazed in the sunlight.