“You should leave. Just go, GO, as soon as you can,” whispered Vittiore with breathless urgency. “There are things you could never understand happening here. I don’t understand them either, but I hear the whispers.”
“I understand you want my crown,” hissed Dinah. “Isn’t that what this is?”
A look of pure confusion crossed Vittiore’s face. “What?”
Both girls jumped back from each other as a loud crack came from outside the doorway. It burst open and the King of Hearts strode in, a furious look upon his flushed face. He was followed by six Heart Cards, Nanda, and Palma.
“Dinah!” he thundered. “What are you doing in Vittiore’s chambers?”
“We were just having tea,” Dinah stammered, suddenly feeling very small.
“Are you not supposed to be at your lessons right now?”
Dinah stood shakily. Her legs gave a tremble, as they always did in the presence of her father. Be strong, she told herself, you will be Queen soon.
“I finished my lessons early. I visited Charles this morning. Apparently Vittiore has been visiting Charles as well. May I ask the last time you saw your son?”
Her father moved across the room with alarming speed, his huge hand gripping Dinah’s arm. He turned his hand roughly and Dinah’s skin burned beneath it.
“Insolent child! Don’t presume to have the right to lecture me on how to deal with my family. I’ll see your mad brother when Wonderland has a peaceful, perfect day, with no need of a ruler.”
Dinah twisted her arm from his grasp and spun to face him. “Soon you’ll have much more time on your hands, when I take the throne beside you. I’ll see to it that your afternoons are much more leisurely.”
Before the King brought his closed hand across her face, Dinah saw a glimmer of pride in her father’s eyes. She was fiercer than he realized. But it was only for a moment, and then she was sprawled on the ground, the left side of her face throbbing.
“Father, STOP!” cried Vittiore, her blue eyes wide with shock. The King of Hearts gave her a murderous look.
“Darling, please go back to tea. Nanda and Palma will help you. Dinah, get up and go back to your apartments. Do not come here again. You can have no purpose here, besides distracting Vittiore from her studies. It is so like you to serve as a stumbling block for all good things.” The King curled his fingers and two Heart Cards approached. He motioned to Dinah, and they yanked her roughly to her feet. “Take them both away.”
Nanda and Palma escorted the shaking Vittiore into her dressing room, cooing gently in her ear. The King pointed to Dinah, who had pushed off the guards and was standing shakily on her own feet.
“I’m sure the Princess has much to do before her coronation next month. Please see to it that she is placed in Harris’s care, and remind him that he is tasked with keeping her in line.” That was a threat, Dinah noted, not a request. The King bent over so he could peer into Dinah’s black eyes. “I would hate for something to happen to Harris if he wasn’t doing a good job of properly raising the future Queen. Perhaps one of my own men would be better suited for the task.”
Dinah’s mouth gave a quiver. “NO. No, I will stay away from Vittiore, as I always have. I have no desire to be in the presence of a bastard.”
Dinah expected to feel the King’s hand across her face again, but instead he gave a wicked chuckle. “Your fire impresses me, child. Always has. Stay in your part of the castle. Prepare for the coronation. I will see you on Execution Day.”
The King spun around, his red cloak circling behind him—a garish bright spot in Vittiore’s soft room. Dinah composed herself and took a last gaze outside Vittiore’s windows as the Cards marched her to the doors. The sun was settling in now, and the Wonderland sky was a ribbon of bright oranges, their lines stretching out onto the horizon. Bright-pink garden roses had begun to bloom on her balcony trellis, and outside, the last bits of pink snow sparkled in the waning light. Together, they turned the world into a blazing mix of fire and light.
Dinah sighed as a Heart Card motioned to the door. I’m no closer to the truth than I ever was before, she thought, but at least I know without a doubt that Vittiore is connected to Faina. On the ceiling above, painted silver stars sparkled in the dimming light. It’s so peaceful in here, she thought, a lovely bed for such a pretty liar.
Chapter Twelve
Pink snow was just a memory a month later, when Dinah stood on the muddy ground awaiting the start of the executions. Execution Day came twice a year to Wonderland. The courtyard was filled with thousands of townspeople and members of the court. Cards strolled up and down the aisles, their swords a subtle reminder to keep the peace. Two lines of Spades clad in their black uniforms put distance between the royals and the common folk. Red heart banners blossomed out from the platform, snapping in the warm spring breeze.
Execution Day used to be one of her favorite holidays—but that was before she was old enough to understand it. The rules of Wonderland decreed that a child couldn’t witness an Execution Day until he or she was ten years old. Until then, it was just a lavish day filled with gifts and celebrations—a reprieve from her constant lessons. Dinah and Wardley would sneak away from the kitchen with a plate of warm tarts, sticky jam on their fingers, sugar on their noses, and gorge themselves until they were sick. When she turned ten and her father ordered her to go to the executions, Dinah was in shock for days. She had lost her mother that year, and seeing death so vivid and real had left her with many sleepless nights and bouts of hysterical crying. There were no more tarts, no more tracing patterns in the sugar on Wardley’s cheek.
The more executions she witnessed, the harder her heart had become. Now, she didn’t even flinch as the heads dropped neatly from their shoulders onto the white porcelain slab, a fact she was oddly proud of. A queen should have a strong stomach for justice, she reasoned. Dinah stood perfectly still now beside Harris, her face free of emotion as her terrible father made his way up to the platform. A silence fell over the noisy crowd as the entire kingdom bowed before their King, who was donning his impregnable armor, making him look like a bear, a force to be reckoned with. A black heart etched across his huge silver breastplate stood proudly out from his chest, his heavy gold crown shining in the afternoon light.
The King climbed the stairs, but not before his eyes met Dinah’s. There was a strange exchange between them—he shot her a satisfied smile and Dinah, confused and unable to control her mouth, gave half a smile back. What just happened, she worried. She couldn’t remember her father smiling at her—ever. He lumbered up the stairs, his iron footsteps echoing across the courtyard.
Heart Cards clustered in a messy line at the front of the stage, their swords clutched tightly against their chests. Her father began his customary speech, declaring the guilt of the prisoners, and the great honor they bestowed upon Wonderland by allowing the kingdom to take their heads, thus clearing out the evil that lurked in Wonderland’s darkest hearts. It was a gift to all the people of Wonderland, given really by him, the King. The prisoners were those chosen specifically by the Clubs for their heinous crimes, their lack of remorse, or their general level of uselessness to the Kingdom. Most were murderers, some were burglars, some were thieves, and some were women who sold themselves to men for the highest price. All were housed in the Black Towers. That was punishment enough, thought Dinah, worse than any of these naive people could ever imagine.
Today’s bunch, he announced, was made up of fourteen prisoners—nine men and five women. The list of beheadings went back several years, as there were plenty of people in Wonderland who had earned the blade. Dinah fidgeted nervously as her father read on until she felt Harris’s elbow deep in her ribs.
“Stand still, child!”
She focused her attention on Wardley, who stood at the front of the stage, alongside his fellow Heart Cards. His curly brown hair had been shorn neat and tight against his head, a change that Dinah mourned each time she saw him. He looked so different, so unlike
the boy she adored, so like the man he would become. Even now, he stood out amongst the other Cards, his strong chin pointed to the side, his eyes trained on the King. He was confident and easy, the kind of man who could lead an army and slay the hearts of women with the greatest of ease.
Dinah looked at his right hand and saw two of his fingers crossing and uncrossing, a habit he had when he was nervous. An adoring smile drew up the corners of her mouth. Someday, she hoped, he would be her king, and lead beside her. Strong and compassionate, they would lead Wonderland into a new age, starting with the destruction of the Black Towers. Dinah clenched her fist. Root by root, she told herself. It will be done. Wardley glanced in her direction, and she gave him a small smile; he acknowledged it with a quick wink. Her heart gave a happy jump.
The King was finally on the platform now, looking out at the sea of red. Everyone wore red to Execution Day. Dinah reasoned that blood wasn’t as shocking when everyone was already covered in crimson. Her father settled his large girth on the makeshift iron throne. A Club Card approached him with a rolled sheet of paper. After the King picked it up he nodded, and they both stood and addressed the crowd. Her father unrolled the document, and in his booming cadence began to read the names of the condemned. Each prisoner was brought forward when his or her name was called; collectively, they took their place on the long white block, resting their heads on the stained marble.
“Jasper Che-guffe. Robinson Thomas. Abbie Tibbs. Gayleen Skinner. Earthe Hicket. Faina Baker.”
Dinah’s head jerked up. No, no, no, no. . . .
Her father continued reading the names, but Dinah’s vision had tunneled onto the tiny blond woman who was being dragged to the block. Surprisingly, she looked much better than she had in the Towers—her dirty blond hair was still caked with grease and her thin arms were covered in bruises, but the madness in her eyes had retreated, and she had obviously been eating, as she had put on some weight. They took her off the tree, Dinah realized. That’s what was different. They had fattened her up to make her look like a normal prisoner before the crowds.
Faina strained against her chain, forcing a Club Card to drag her toward the block. Her mouth was torn, and it was no wonder, considering the metal gag that was wrapped around her face and shoved between her bloodied lips. She struggled in vain, trying desperately to cry out, her eyes trained on the royal family. The Card leading her gave a hard yank on the chain, and Faina was jerked forward to her knees before the long white block. Dinah clenched and unclenched her hands. Her body felt like she had been suddenly plunged into icy waters. She couldn’t take her eyes off Faina. What could she do?
Faina gave a muffled sob and tried crawling toward the front of the platform, where Heart Cards with swords waited patiently for her. Her watery eyes were fixed on Dinah as the Cards pushed her back toward the block. A Club Card yanked her up by her hair.
“Feisty!” the King yelled, and the crowd laughed with him. Through her metal gag, faint gurgling screams could be heard. Dinah was seized with panic. Should she try and stop this? What reason could she possibly give? She looked toward Wardley. He was pale and shaken, staring at Faina as the guard slapped her down and held her head against the block, leaning on her cheek with all his strength.
Dinah grabbed Harris’s red cloak. “I’d like to grant mercy to that woman, the small one.”
Harris looked back at her with alarm. “Why? Do you know the woman?”
Dinah shook her head. “No. Look at her, Harris; does she look like a criminal? Someone capable of murder?”
Harris shook his head. “Didn’t you listen to the charges? That woman murdered a Club squire in the towers just last week, a young boy.”
The knife, oh gods. Dinah was talking fast, frenzied. “But the waiting list for Execution Day goes back about three years, does it not?”
Harris wrapped his chubby arm fast around Dinah’s waist and brought his mouth to her dark hair. “Do not upset the King, my child. Mercy is only his to give on Execution Day, and you do not want him to see you as trying to take the throne early. There is nothing you can do. She is on the block for murder, and I have no doubt that her crime was horrible, otherwise she would not be here. Only the worst criminals are executed, and the Clubs must have good reason to grant them death. Trust in the King’s justice. One day, when you are Queen, then you can grant mercy to whomever you chose.”
Dinah angrily pushed him away. “This is not justice,” she snapped.
She felt trapped, a cat in a cage, watching Faina Baker’s dirty blond hair spill over the white marble. Faina was weeping and choking on her gag, and she kept throwing her arms out in front of her, as if she was trying to embrace the crowd. The crowd, in turn, murmured its approval. They loved a good show, and this mad woman determined not to die was giving them one. She had the look of a crazed beast, her desperation palpable and real. Dinah took a step toward the King before Harris locked his hand around her arm.
“Do NOT. You put us all at risk.”
Dinah stopped. He was right. She could not risk angering the King so close to her coronation. Her father caught her commotion with Harris from the corner of his eye. He raised his Heartsword in Dinah’s direction and then pointed it toward Faina. It was a quick, subtle movement, but Dinah understood instantly.
This was her punishment. He knew, oh gods, he knew. He knew they had been in the Black Towers, knew that Dinah had talked to her.
Faina twisted and writhed against her chains, her eyes never leaving the front row. The King picked up his Heartsword and walked the line of prisoners, taking in each one and looking into their eyes. He stopped in front of Faina, said something quiet in her ear and continued on. After he had walked up and down the long white block, he motioned to the Club Card. The crowd stirred. This was the moment they had been waiting for, and no doubt money had exchanged quick hands after the prisoners were led out. Betting on the King’s mercy was a common practice. The Card walked forward and cleared his throat.
“THE KING, IN ALL HIS GLORY AND RIGHTEOUSNESS, HAS DECIDED TO GIVE MERCY THIS DAY. THESE PRISONERS THAT LAY THEIR HEADS ON THE BLOCK ARE BLESSED, CHOSEN TO EXEMPLIFY THE JUSTICE OF WONDERLAND, THE BLACK TOWERS, THE CLUB CARDS, AND THE ROYAL LINE OF HEARTS. BECAUSE OF HIS GENEROUS NATURE, THE KING CHOOSES ONE PRISONER FOR MERCY EVERY EXECUTION DAY. THIS YEAR, THE KING’S MERCY IS GIVEN TO ROBINSON THOMAS, FOR HIS CRIME OF THEFT.”
A thundering cheer rose up from those peasants who had bet on Thomas. A handsome redheaded man clothed in rags was unchained from the line and led away, but not before he fell at the King’s feet, weeping and trailing his mouth over the King’s boots. Dinah knew what would happen to him after he left: he would be fed and bathed, and then trained as a Spade, trained to fight, to kill. As Robinson left the platform, the buzzing of the crowd grew deafening.
“Off with their heads!” screamed out a shrill voice from the back of the courtyard. “Off with their heads, off with their heads!” the crowd echoed, growing louder and louder, until the very ground rumbled with the sound.
The King motioned with his Heartsword and the executioner stepped forward. Dinah closed her eyes for a split second, telling herself what she always did on the day of execution. That life was just like this: given and taken, and that these were criminals who deserved their sentence. She would not be like the common people who relished the fall of the axe, the rush of red blood. But she wouldn’t be like the high-born ladies either, who turned away into their handkerchiefs with a whimpering sigh. She was her father’s daughter, who did not shy from the consequences of this life. Blood was just blood.
But as she opened her eyes again, she only saw Faina. She had stopped struggling and stared openly at the crowd now, a peaceful calm coming over her face as tears dripped down her cheeks and onto the marble block. She had come to terms with her death. The other prisoners weren’t faring so well, as they screamed or prayed. Dinah felt her own tears leaking from her eyes, and wiped them quickly with her red cloak. My father will not see
my tears, she thought. I will not give him what he wants this day. A fury raged in her chest, hot as flame.
The headsman raised his double-weighted sword, and the first head fell. Then the second. On and on down the line, until the sword hovered above Faina. Dark blood dripped off the blade onto her pale face, a black tear mingling with her own.
I’ll truly never know, thought Dinah, I’ll never know the reason I ate a piece of paper with her name on it. She didn’t tell me enough. The Towers took my answers.
Faina smiled at Dinah, and for a moment, Dinah saw how stunningly beautiful she must have been, once upon a time. The blade came down with a whoosh, and Faina’s head dropped swiftly away from her body. A crimson waterfall now covered the block where her head had been seconds before. Dinah didn’t have time to react because of the movement on her right; Vittiore had pitched face first into the mud on the other side of Harris, landing with a violent thud.
Dinah watched in stunned silence until she realized what was happening, and then took a few steps and knelt beside her, attempting to turn her over. Her body flapped back against Dinah. The crowd gasped. Even though Vittiore was light, her dead weight was almost too much. With a groan, Dinah turned her over, sinking knee deep into the mud, Vittiore splayed dramatically across her lap, her white dress settling all around Dinah like swirling waves. Nanda and Palma were circling around her like dumb birds, crying and screaming but not actually doing anything.
Dinah looked down at the Duchess. Anger rushed through her at having Vittiore so near—a pale pink cheek against her forearm, blond curls crushed under her bosom, but she still held on. The royal family could not seem fractured, even when its foundation was cracked. Mud had somehow covered exactly half of Vittiore’s perfect face, which was porcelain white. Her normally coral lips were red with blood—she had been biting them. Dinah remembered then that Vittiore had never been to Execution Day, always claiming a sudden fever or an oncoming headache. She had never seen the heads roll, something Dinah had witnessed many times.
Queen of Hearts (The Crown) Page 14