War of the Cards

by Colleen Oakes

  “Ruling alone is better than ruling beside a tyrant.”

  “True, but being a queen is much more complicated than yeh know. Hopefully, yeh’ll do a better job than the King of Hearts did.”

  “I will,” whispered Dinah, though a pang of doubt twisted through her. The King of Hearts might not be her actual father, but deep inside, she still felt the rage that had driven him. It scared her. She had grown up in its presence, and now it had infected her like a virus.

  Dinah and Sir Gorrann were in the Hallway of the Golden Birds now, each metal fowl gazing down at her accusingly as their living kin fluttered around the rafters and skipped across the floor.

  “This is where I leave you.” Sir Gorrann bowed and kissed her hand. “I have not seen a day this beautiful since I held my girls in my arms.” He stood up and winked. “Don’t sneeze in that dress, or yeh’ll be showing everyone what’s special about the Queen of Hearts.”

  Dinah snickered and hit his arm. “Go.”

  With a deep breath, she turned, knowing who waited for her.

  Standing in front of a stuffed peacock, Wardley waited patiently for his queen. Dinah felt a stone rise up in her throat at the sight of him, so handsome in his new Knave of Hearts uniform, several new seals pressed across his cloak. Wardley looked over at her, gazed at his friend with misty eyes full of pride. Dinah squeezed his hand. There was so much she wanted to tell him, so much she wished he would say, but they were on opposite sides of a chasm so great it would swallow them whole. Dinah let out a long breath.

  “Are you ready?” she whispered, but what she had meant to say was, Could you try to love me? Just a little.

  With a kind smile, Wardley moved her hand and took her arm.

  His face was so proud, the jagged scar on his cheek still dark and angry. Like Dinah’s body, half of his face was shadowed with healing bruises. Dinah stifled a laugh.

  “What could you possibly be laughing at right now?” Wardley whispered to her.

  “At what a motley bunch we are. Bruised and bloody, and about to enter the Great Hall.”

  “It does seem strange that just four days ago we were knee deep in blood. So many dead.”

  They paused, brutal memories ripping through them both. Finally, Wardley took a step forward, pulling Dinah with him, overtly changing the subject.

  “I must tell you that your dress is utterly ridiculous. It’s the size of a house!”

  “Really?” Dinah did a playful twirl. “I have to admit, I think I quite like it.”

  “You? Liking a dress? I’ll believe it when I see it. Did they not have a coronation tunic on hand for today?”

  “No, but if I would have asked for one, Cheshire would have had it made within an hour.”

  Wardley shook his head. “Isn’t that the sad truth?”

  They laughed together until they stood in front of the vast golden doors that separated them from thousands of eyes. Harris was there, waiting like a father on her wedding day. He bowed, but not without difficulty. He had made incredible progress since Dinah had come for him in the Black Towers: the ruddiness in his cheeks had returned, and he had put on a few pounds since then. He was still painfully thin, and the dark gouges beneath his eyes lingered. But the joy that leaped out from them this day overpowered any sorrow drifting around him.

  Harris clasped Dinah’s hands in his own and kissed both of her cheeks. “Finally.” Tears sprang to his eyes as he hugged her tightly. “The day I have dreamed about for so long is finally here. Are you ready, my queen?”

  Dinah looked at the golden doors, remembering the last time she had stood here. It was the day her father had brought Vittiore into her life, the day that his violent grasp for power had begun. She had fought her way back to this place, and now, she would enter not as an abused child but as a woman.

  As a queen.

  She nodded. “I’m ready.” Wardley and Sir Gorrann pulled open the wide doors, and a chorus rose through the air, a song Dinah had not heard since childhood.

  Ah, cruel three! In such an hour,

  Beneath such dreamy weather,

  To beg a tale of breath too weak

  To stir the tiniest feather!

  Yet what can one poor voice avail

  Against three tongues together?

  Anon, to sudden silence won,

  In fancy they pursue

  The dream-child moving through a land

  Of wonders wild and new,

  In friendly chat with bird or beast—

  And half believe it true.

  And ever, as the story drained

  The wells of fancy dry,

  And faintly strove that weary one

  To put the subject by,

  “The rest next time—” “It is next time!”

  The happy voices cry.

  Thus grew the tale of Wonderland:

  Thus slowly, one by one,

  Its quaint events were hammered out—

  And now the tale is done,

  And home we steer, a merry crew,

  Beneath the setting sun.

  Painted doves, each swirled with glistening scenes too beautiful to linger on, were released to symbolize the arrival of the new queen. They were joined by a few white cranes from the Yurkei, a nod of support for Dinah. Vast swaths of white and red linen draped the domed ceiling, waving in the light breeze that caressed the crowd. Harris kissed her hand and let her go with a wink. We did it.

  She took a tentative step up the impossibly long aisle, and then another. A pair of red jeweled slippers, her mother’s design, carried her down the aisle. As she walked the bloodred carpet toward the throne, her subjects bowed before her, a pleasure that never got old. Seemingly endless showers of rose petals fell upon her head. The choir of young boys raised their voices together until they formed one long, lonely note, a melancholy sound used for the ending of an age. Dinah reminded herself to breathe.

  Mundoo and Cheshire waited for her at the end of the aisle, flanking the throne. They were surrounded by dozens of cloaked lords and the local clergy, each wearing their finest black robes. When Dinah reached them, Cheshire bowed and Mundoo simply gave a nod of his head. This was a gesture to show not only Dinah but the people of Wonderland that Mundoo was not one of her subjects but rather her equal. Mundoo looked resplendent in his full headdress of feathers and an intricately woven robe dotted with tiny stitched mountains. It shifted in the bright afternoon light. Cheshire wore his purple cloak, now adorned with dozens of sparkling brooches. The most powerful man in Wonderland had a need for everyone to know his position.

  Dinah reached the throne, her breath catching in her throat, crushed under a wave of happiness and the weight of her dress. There they were, the pair of gold thrones, cut from the same metal as Mundoo’s throne in Hu-Yuhar. Each was shaped like one large heart. They were embellished at the top with a cascade of rising hearts, each one razor sharp and more folded than the next. The throne next to her sat empty, with only a white rose placed on it—a single rose to hold that place until she married.

  Dinah climbed the stone steps she had knelt before so many times and turned to face the crowd. As she looked down upon her subjects, she was crushed by a surprising wave of gratitude and love. Standing here, in the place that was always destined for her, Dinah’s soul was sailing. She raised her hand and the crowd grew silent. Dinah stared at each of them, a dazzling smile upon her radiant face, before sitting upon her throne.

  The ceremony began, an intricate and ancient set of rituals with many readings, proclamations, stories, and songs. It took hours. Dinah stood and sat repeatedly while affirming each and every clause and duty of the queen. Each one she stored in her heart, convinced that each pledge of fealty would make her a better queen, a better leader, than those who had come before her.

  At the end of the lengthy ceremony—Dinah noticed some children in the first row nodding off—the four commanders of the Cards approached her, each carrying a gold tray displaying a single playing card. Wardley a
nd Sir Gorrann stood between the new commander of the Clubs and the new commander of the Diamonds, who was still nursing a thigh wound. All bowed before her, their trays outstretched. Cheshire stepped before the queen holding a single pearl-headed needle. Dinah gave her finger, which he cradled in a red felt cloth. Then he brought the needle down into her finger, much harder than Dinah believed was necessary. She didn’t make a sound as he withdrew it and a dot of warm blood pooled on the tip. He stepped aside as each of the four Cards brought up his tray and playing card. Dinah leaned forward and pressed her blood onto the surface of each card, one by one. The Cards were covered with dozens of other bloody fingerprints, from the kings and queens who had come before her. When it was Wardley’s turn, he gave her a sly smile. It was as if a thin shard of glass had been deftly inserted into her heart. She ignored it, giving him a shy smile in return. Nothing would take this day from her.

  The Cards bowed before the throne and parted to the sides, their role in the ceremony complete. The chorus of voices rose again, in a holy song about kings and queens of old. The crowd fell to their knees as Vittiore began her walk up the aisle, humbled and stripped of her royalty, wearing a very plain dress for such a high ceremony. She carried the crown upon a deep-fuchsia pillow, only it was not the crown that Dinah was expecting.

  It was her crown. The base was a brushed silver, inlaid with thousands of tiny heart gemstones. She remembered the flowered vines that twisted out from the hearts to meet at the top of the crown. The vines were carved with tiny faces, their mouths open in a scream. Flickering stars hung from thin strips of silver among the vines. The strips of silver were the same tree trunks that greeted her inside the Twisted Wood. Four Card symbols connected the vines from the sides of the crown to the top, where a diamond in the shape of a heart sparkled in the light, framed by the outline of a crane.

  Dinah closed her eyes and saw Charles before her, his blue and green eyes peering up at her with curiosity. His small hands, his tiny body cradled against her own. She remembered the smell of his dirty blond hair, streaked with grease and paint. He was here with her, she could feel it. This was Charles’s crown for Dinah, something she assumed the king had destroyed. The entire room went silent and still, and it seemed only Vittiore was moving, bringing the crown closer. The crown itself was so beautiful that people reached out to touch it, breaking protocol. Charles’s crown, his last gift to Dinah. She felt her heart shredding and forced her face to remain frozen as she watched the last remnant of her brother come up the aisle.

  Dinah blinked rapidly, trying to remain in control. Vittiore stood before her now, the crown held aloft in her trembling hands, a show to the people that their once queen was truly submitting to Dinah, the new Queen of Hearts. Vittiore circled around behind Dinah, handing the crown to Cheshire, who slowly lowered the heavy crown onto Dinah’s head. Silent tears spilled from Dinah’s eyes as the crown settled across her brow, the presence of her brother so close now. She stood in front of her people and placed her hand over her heart.

  Cheshire stood, proclaiming, “Wonderland, behold your queen, the Queen of Hearts!”

  The crowd repeated the phrase back to him, and then took up the chant, again and again. The choir sang and birds fluttered in the afternoon breeze. Her brother’s crown sat firmly against her head, exquisitely measured so that it lay snug and tight across her brow. A perfect fit to rule.

  Twelve

  Though she was exhausted beyond measure and dreaming of her bed, Dinah hosted Mundoo in her chambers immediately following the coronation, hoping to finalize the remaining details of the peace treaty. Mundoo arrived with his personal guard in tow, and Dinah watched them with utter fascination. They were completely out of place inside the palace walls, uncomfortable and twitchy, suffocated by the stone walls and the red-tinted light. She saw two of the Yurkei quietly making faces at themselves in one of her ornate gilded mirrors, and several of them had planted themselves at her long table, helping themselves to a delicious array of new flavors. It was obvious to her that the Yurkei thought that Wonderlanders were excessive and ridiculous, just as fluttery and shallow as the birds that roamed the palace hallways. She smiled as she watched them. They weren’t exactly wrong.

  Mundoo leaned toward her, a cup of tea in his hand. “Shall we go to the balcony, Dinah?”

  It was jarring to hear her name, now that everyone called her “Your Majesty” or some other lofty title. Mundoo was making a point; she wasn’t his queen. She nodded and opened the doors to the balcony, light swallowing them as they stepped outside. The day was clear, and the Yurkei Mountains could be seen through the heavy summer air. Mundoo sipped his tea as Dinah watched him enviously; he wore his responsibilities with such an intense grace.

  From here, Dinah could see the tents of Mundoo’s remaining army lingering in the fields just outside of Wonderland proper, ready to depart at a moment’s notice. They wanted to go home. As a show of kindness to the people of Wonderland, the tireless Yurkei had cleared out the wreckage of battle that lay smoldering around the castle, including the corpses. The bodies of Wonderlanders and Cards were burned, their ashes buried in the cemetery west of the palace, while the bodies of Yurkei warriors were set aside for the Caterpillar. After he had blessed the bodies, a small bone from their arms was removed and wrapped in white linen. These men’s bones would be buried with the rest of their tribe in the mushroom fields outside Hu-Yuhar, their souls bonded forever with the land. Dinah understood there was no greater honor. What remained of their bodies was then taken to the Twisted Wood for burial.

  The chief of the Yurkei leaned over the balcony, his bright blue eyes on the field below, the white and blue feathers in his hair blowing softly.

  “Morte hasn’t been found yet, I assume.”

  Dinah rested her arms on the stone terrace. “No. Only Keres was found, but you know that already.”

  Mundoo breathed in the steam of the tea. “This means you won’t be able to uphold your end of the deal you made to save his life—the promise to give me six of his offspring—so we will have to make other arrangements. Another sacrifice.”

  Dinah turned to him with skepticism in her eyes. “I will not budge on the treaty, so don’t ask.”

  Mundoo smiled at her before turning back to his cup.

  “Actually, I was going to ask to have regular shipments of tea to Hu-Yuhar. My warriors can’t get enough of it.”

  Dinah felt a jolt of satisfaction. Every morning she had sent jittery servants out with heaping trays of tea to placate the waiting tribe. It was a tiny gesture, but she had learned that even the most subtle gift of service could influence the people.

  “Be careful, Chief. Once you have a drink of it, it becomes something you need more and more of just to sustain yourself through the day.”

  The chief looked to the mountains. “It’s the same with power.”

  Silence encompassed the balcony as Dinah weighed his words.

  Mundoo cleared his throat.

  “From here, our mountains seem so insignificant, just small hills that mark . . . what is your Wonderland word for it . . . the end of the sky? The beyond? It’s a good one, but I can’t remember it.”

  Dinah clasped her hands behind her back. “The horizon?”

  “Yes, yes, that’s it. The horizon. It is a lovely thing, is it not? And yet, it is not so far from here to there. Not so far for many men who can ride without ceasing.”

  Dinah raised her eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”

  Mundoo’s blazing blue eyes looked back at her, unnerving in their direct gaze. “A threat? No. Let’s just call it a reminder. Dinah, we are a peaceful people, as you know. We belong to the land, and she to us. We have no desire for war.” He took another sip of his apple-blossom tea. “I have seen too much death, Queen of Hearts. I am weary of coronations, councils, meetings, and treaties. My mountains are calling to me, and my warriors long for their warm beds and the wives that keep them that way. We will depart from here now, with the treaty int
act. As agreed upon, in a few months a large group of my people will arrive at Ierladia to tour the city that will be our stronghold. As you requested, the city will not be touched, but I fear that our presence there may cause some alarm. Should this happen, my warriors will have no choice but to defend themselves.”

  Dinah rested her palms on the balcony railing. From here, she could see the scorched earth where the stables had been, her childhood replaced by ash and blackened dirt. She turned to Mundoo, her black eyes swallowing his whole. He wasn’t the only one with power now.

  “And that is why I plan to make the trip to Ierladia when it comes time to turn over the city. I will stand by my people and make sure that no one is hurt or taken advantage of when the Yurkei settlers arrive. In the same way, I hope to show that the Yurkei are a good people and should be trusted. If we are to share a city, we must make the example.”

  Mundoo stared back at her, unflinching but impressed. “You must know that I long for peace, truly,” he stated plainly.

  Dinah nodded. “I believe that you do. But I also believe that you see my city now, with so few Cards to defend us, and we must look like a shiny new toy, so tempting and vulnerable. However, in a few months, you will find a new Wonderland proper, and a host of willing Cards who will be trained for battle, better men than those my father led. You will find new walls, this time made of stone and not iron. And you will find a queen who is not so easily breakable.”

  With a calm breath, Dinah cautiously reached for his hand. “I value a peace with the Yurkei above all other treaties and measures. Believe that I came to love your tribe and your city, and I would bemoan any loss to your people as much as my own.”

  Her eyes fell on Ki-ershan, who stood rigidly in the corner of the room. His eyes were trained on Mundoo, his hands flexed tightly around his sword. Mundoo smiled bitterly at him. He dropped her hand and put both of his palms on Dinah’s shoulders, looking as though he wanted to give her a friendly squeeze. Or, that was how it was meant to appear. Only Dinah could feel his finger pressing against her scar, the one he had given her with his thin knife. She stifled a cry of pain as his fingers probed and pushed, willing herself to remain strong. Mundoo’s tea-soaked breath washed over her face