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.
Five
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.
“Dinah?”
“I’m afraid,” she whispered.
He knelt before her, his armor clanking against the ground as he took her hands in his and laid his forehead against her palm. “Everyone is afraid before a battle. No one speaks of the fear, though. Yeh cannot give it a name, for when yeh do, it becomes real. The Spades, Cheshire, the Yurkei, Mundoo, all those Cards that line the iron gates, all the people inside the palace grounds, and even the king himself—each one woke up today with the fear, deep inside of here.” He gently laid his hand over Dinah’s heart. “Even so, yeh will lead us into battle today, as a symbol of change. Yeh stand before Wonderland’s gates today as the rightful queen, an heir to yer mother’s line. And lastly, yeh stand before the King of Hearts today as a symbol of vengeance and justice, for the murder of yer brother, for Faina Baker, for my family, for the thousands of Yurkei, and for the innocent people of Wonderland he has murdered or imprisoned. We all must stand eventually, even if our knees shake.”
Dinah bent forward and kissed him on the forehead. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”
He left her alone, but just seconds later her tent flap opened once again, this time revealing a couple of Yurkei warriors who had come to dress her. Dinah stood with her arms outstretched as the Yurkei silently applied white stripes of paint to her arms and legs before wrapping them in a fine cloth dipped in Iu-Hora’s medicine to ward off infections. Over that, she was dressed in a simple white tunic and black wool pants before her armor was fastened around her. First came the breastplate, bright white with a broken red heart painted across it. It hit her at the hip, its edge sharp with tiny red hearts. The Yurkei gingerly lifted her legs as she stepped into her heart-covered, black leather leg guards that rose up the thigh. Red leather straps were added to protect her hips and shoulders. When they finished draping her body with the heavy armor, the warriors left the tent abruptly, without warning. She flexed her legs. The armor was heavy, but she was able to move fairly smoothly.
She heard quiet, purposeful steps, and Dinah looked up as Cheshire walked into the tent carrying her cape. He carefully draped it on her and then gently latched it at her neck. The white crane feathers, each appearing as if they had been dipped in blood, circled her, the cape’s weight brushing the floor while at the same time stretching out behind her like wings.
Cheshire stepped back and sighed, his eyes filling with tears. “Oh, my fierce warrior. For once, I am speechless. Look at yourself.”
She turned to the mirror. Dinah’s eyes widened in surprise as she barely recognized herself. A grown woman, proud and strong, stared at her, her eyes simmering like two burning coals, her pitch-black hair falling just below her chin. Cheshire reached for her crown.
“No,” said Dinah. “I’ll do it.” Watching herself in the mirror, she lifted the thin ruby crown and pushed it down onto her head. It sat snugly, a perfect fit. She looked at herself. This woman does not need fear, she thought. She is a queen.
“I’m ready.”
“You are a terrifying vision of glory,” Cheshire noted, with a sly smile. “Let’s hope the King of Hearts thinks so.” Just before she stepped outside, Cheshire spun her to face him. “Dinah, do not forget the plan. Even if you see the king, do not pursue him. There will be a time for your justice, and Charles’s justice, but now is a time for battle. If you go galloping off after the king on the north side, everything will descend into chaos. . . .”
Dinah nodded. “I won’t. I’ll follow the plan.”
His dark eyes bore into hers. “The plan is perfect. All you have to do now is fight. Let that anger rise. We are all behind you.” He bowed his head. “Your army awaits.”
>
With a deep breath, Dinah straightened her shoulders and stepped outside the tent. She heard a collective gasp and then found herself too moved to speak. At the bottom of the hill, Spade and Yurkei stood together for the first time. They lined the walkway from her tent to Morte, who waited for her at the end of a long column of men, his reins held gently by Sir Gorrann. Wardley, devastatingly handsome in his silver armor, stepped up beside her and raised his hands to cup his mouth. The crowd fell silent.
“All hail the Queen of Hearts!”
Dinah began walking slowly toward Morte, her cape dancing over the wet grass. As she moved past them, each man and warrior bowed before her, falling to their knees in ardent devotion. The rhythm of their falling heads reminded her of the Ninth Sea, a gentle washing of movement. Dinah held her head high, her face a stony mask of determination. The Spades extended their hands to her, and she made sure she brushed each reaching hand with her own. She was grateful and overwhelmed at their devotion, and even more so by this staggering show of loyalty from the Yurkei. For today, she was their chief. They would not bow before her tomorrow.
At the end of the aisle stood Morte, equal parts splendid and monstrous in his armor, which the Yurkei had designed for him. His wide flanks and chest were protected with black armor, painted with the same red heart that Dinah carried on her breast. The rest of his body had been striped with white paint. The bone spikes around his hooves were polished gleaming white, their sharp tips reflecting the light. Gods, he was terrifying. His mouth was open and salivating, the Hornhoov hungry for the coming battle. Dinah’s new saddle sat snug against his neck, and when she approached him, he lifted his leg for her. With a smile, she stepped onto the bony spikes and felt the familiar sensation of being flung onto his high back. She settled into the saddle and looked at the wide road ahead—the road that led to the palace. Morte pawed the ground with anticipation, and Dinah wheeled him around to face her kneeling troops. There was a moment of silence as they stared at their queen, a vision of fury and power. She cleared her throat and raised her voice over the plains.
“Will you join me, my friends and men? Will you march to Wonderland Palace beside me?” Their roar shook the ground and rattled the walls of Dinah’s heart. She smiled. “The king waits for us. Let us go and meet him!”
It took them over two hours to reach the palace, and another hour to climb the hill that Cheshire had pointed out so many times on the wooden Wonderland map. By then, the sun had made its appearance and blazed down on a scene that it would not soon forget.
Outside the circular gates of Wonderland Palace, bordering every inch of the thirty-foot iron walls, were Cards. In some places they were a hundred deep, lined shoulder to shoulder, more people than Dinah had ever seen in one place. The Cards were thickest on the north side, where they were already facing the impassive line of Mundoo’s army. The mounted Heart Cards that lined the north side clearly outnumbered the Yurkei army two to one. But, she thought, each Yurkei warrior is as strong as three regular men.
The banners of the Hearts, Diamonds, and Clubs flapped in the wind above hundreds of archers looking down from the turrets of the palace. Some of them were of the infamous Fergal family, no doubt, deadly and accurate with their arrows.
A stray Spade wandered up next to Dinah. “Wha’ are they waiting for?” He stared down at Mundoo’s unmoving forces.
Dinah’s eyes never left the palace. “Us. They are waiting for us. Now get back in line.”
“’Course, my queen.”
On the south side of the palace, where they waited for Dinah’s army, hordes of Diamonds, Clubs, and a handful of Heart Cards all jeered and shouted, hungry for battle. Cheshire had been perfect in his calculations: the skilled fighters were on the north side, the brutes on the south. Stretching all the way around the palace, the king’s men stood in a perfect circle, thousands more than Dinah had anticipated. In his fear, he had left no man, no resource, unturned.
The Heart Cards on the north side stood fearless, their swords drawn and ready, their red-and-white uniforms glinting brightly in the sunlight. Facing Dinah on the south side, holding every manner of hideous weapon, Clubs grunted and pounded their chests. Beside each Club, chained together in a line, stood strings of men, each armed with a single knife. Prisoners, thought Dinah, looking down, her hand tangled in Morte’s mane. Just as Wardley had predicted, her father had emptied the Black Towers to enlist more men for the battle. The men looked terrified; they squinted in the sunlight, unable to properly see from their time in the darkness. With chains around their wrists, those men didn’t have a prayer. One Spade would be able to kill the lot of them.
More daunting than the Clubs were the large clusters of Diamond Cards, their purple cloaks a bright splash of color in the sea of black, white, and red. Standing perfectly still, they tossed their daggers back and forth between themselves without even turning their heads. They moved like a constellation, with a sharp, deadly bite. Above their heads, turrets had been assembled for the archers to peer down from, their bows aimed directly at her men. Bah-kan rode up beside her.
“You ready?” he asked Dinah.
Strangely, the answer slipped out simply, without thought or fear.
“I’m ready.”
A cheer rose up from Mundoo’s army, which had completely encircled the palace. She watched as the Yurkei erupted with excitement, a rocking mass of terrifying sounds, all striped white and astride their pale steeds. Mundoo was riding Keres near the front, dressed from head to toe in blue and white feathers. From the back of his steed, with his huge sword drawn, he screamed instructions at his army. Their wild cries reached the Yurkei who waited behind Dinah, and they responded with yelps of their own. The two armies were ready, and soon they would smash against Wonderland from both sides, a furious attack not even her father could have imagined.
From her vantage point on the hill, she watched as the north palace gates opened and the king emerged, surrounded by a thick swarm of mounted Heart Cards. He straddled his own white Hornhoov, his red armor glinting in the light, his Heartsword raised above his head. The Cards erupted in cheers, showering down roses from their outstretched hands. The king’s Hornhoov trampled the delicate flowers underfoot. A group of men suddenly broke from his side and began galloping around the outskirts of the palace.
Dinah’s heart clenched, and she heard Wardley, who had sidled up beside her, mutter to himself. Xavier Juflee, the Knave of Hearts, was now riding toward the south side with a large group of Heart Cards. Wardley’s old mentor was the most skilled fighter in all of Wonderland, and he would cut through the Spades (and most of the Yurkei) with deadly ease.
“Damn him,” muttered Wardley behind her. “Gods damn him.”
There was a moment of silence while the king’s and Mundoo’s armies stared at each other. All the way around the palace, the Cards stood perfectly still and disciplined, waiting for one of the two opposing armies to make a move. Silence permeated the air. Finally, one of the Spades began stomping his feet and clanking his sword against his shield. The other Spades followed. Soon, the two thousand men lined up behind her began bellowing and shaking their swords at the Cards. The Yurkei made calling sounds that resonated within their throats. The Spades joined in, their voices rising and falling like thunder over the open ground. It was the sound of a united army, and it filled Dinah’s heart with a fierce desire to protect them.
Bah-kan climbed off his steed, a bundled package in his outstretched hand. Gingerly, he unwrapped a single white arrow, elaborate carvings covering its abnormally large head, and nocked it into his bow. Every eye on the south side of Wonderland Palace watched in silence as he pointed the bow into the sky and released the arrow. It climbed higher than any arrow Dinah had ever seen. Once the shaft reached the apogee of its trajectory, it exploded into a streaming trail of shimmering gold that draped the palace, such a lovely sight to start an ugly war. The arrow was the signal; Dinah’s small army was ready, and Mundoo could make his advance.
Morte began to buck underneath Dinah, anxious to run into the fight.
Wardley rode up beside her and looked at Morte with doubt. “Are you sure you don’t want to ride with me?”
Dinah didn’t answer, her eyes trained on the army awaiting her. Sir Gorrann, Starey Belft, Bah-kan, and Cheshire rode up behind her now, their heads bowed in reverent silence. It was time. Ki-ershan brought his steed up beside Dinah, with Yur-Jee flanking her other side.
“Your Majesty.” Yur-Jee gave her a wide smile, the first Dinah had ever seen from him. He hit his chest. “READY!”
Dinah let her eyes linger over the dear men who fought for her crown, their faces so determined, each man silently praying to the Wonderland gods. Only Cheshire looked unbothered. In fact, he looked downright bored. A small smile crept across her face. Of course Cheshire would be bored.
The sound of trumpets filled the air, blasting their deafening cacophony from the palace. Dinah felt the sound deep within her, traveling up through her lungs to the tips of her fingernails. It has begun, she thought.
On the opposite side of the palace, Mundoo proudly rode a swiftly galloping Keres, his hands meeting together over his head in the symbol of the crane. His army grew silent as they remembered those who had gone before them into the valley of the cranes. Then he turned, straight for the Heart Cards, and drew his sword. With loud whoops, Mundoo’s troops began galloping wildly toward the king and his Cards. Morte’s haunches gave a violent jerk and the ground beneath him began to rumble, as if it were opening up.
“Steady,” she breathed. “Steady. We have to wait.”
The sound of sixteen thousand hooves filled the air, shaking the ground, and a collective roar from the Cards below answered back as they pointed their weapons.
The King of Hearts waited patiently for them to arrive, his Heartsword held tight, his arm outstretched to signal the archers. Mundoo’s army continued its charge. The archers on the north turrets raised their arrows. All of Wonderland held its breath. Then, at the king’s dropped hand, the Wonderland archers unleashed a sky’s worth of dark arrows, each one tipped with a red glass heart. The arrows climbed mercilessly into the sky before their heads pointed downward and began their descent onto the galloping Yurkei warriors. Dinah’s breath caught in her throat as the bright red shower of death raced toward them.
War of the Cards Page 5