“Put the sword down. Don’t do this! This isn’t you! Please, gods, please!” Wardley was screaming at the top of his lungs now, his wrenching cries falling on deaf ears.
Ki-ershan struggled to regain control of the sword. Everything was happening so fast, but Dinah saw only Vittiore. The girl who had stolen her crown, and now her future. Wardley’s voice grew louder.
“Please! Dinah, stop! You are my friend. Please don’t do this.”
He brought the sword down toward Ki-ershan, who nimbly leaped out of the way. Dinah threw Vittiore down on the floor before her, one hand still tangled up in her hair, and brought her other hand hard across the girl’s face. Then she yanked Vittiore onto her knees. Moving quickly, Dinah lifted Wardley’s sword and pressed it against Vittiore’s porcelain neck. Wardley let out a bellow, his entire body straining against Ki-ershan’s arms.
“No, please, don’t hurt her! Kill me, take me! Dinah, do not do this! You are not your father!” His face contorted as he howled. “Alllliiiicccceeeeee!”
Dinah had never heard that name. She smiled a sad smile at Vittiore.
“Do you love him, Vittiore?”
“My name is Alice,” Vittiore whispered in return. The girl’s blue eyes found Wardley, and Dinah felt like she had been plunged into icy water. Wardley and Alice stared at each other, a thousand unspoken truths passing between them. Then she looked up at Dinah. “And yes, I do love him. I have loved him always.”
Dinah let go of Vittiore’s hair. The girl remained perfectly still, her eyes trained on Wardley, who writhed and screamed as Ki-ershan wrestled the sword from his grasp. Dinah stood tall, her figure illuminated by the moonlight and candles, which seemed to flare up with her roiling madness. She was only her rage.
“Not as long as I have.”
With both hands, she brought the sword down on the girl’s neck in one swift motion. Blood splattered Dinah’s face. Alice’s head fell from her body, landing facedown atop the pile of silk sheets. Her body gave a few twitches and collapsed beside it.
“Alice!” Wardley let out a scream, its wrenching sound tearing her away from the fury for just a moment. His hysterical cries seemed to shake the castle. “Gods, no!”
He fell forward. Ki-ershan stepped back and let him hit the floor, but as soon as Wardley’s knees touched, he twisted away from Ki-ershan and grabbed a silver dagger that lay on a dresser. Wardley launched himself at Dinah, the dagger held aloft in his hands. He was quick, but the Yurkei warrior was quicker. Ki-ershan grabbed a silver candlestick and brought it down against his head with a sickening crack. Wardley’s dagger was mere inches from Dinah’s neck.
Wardley collapsed, unconscious, in Dinah’s arms. Dazed, she looked at him, at the wet tears on his face, and then down at her gown, which was soaked with blood. She blinked. There was blood on her hands, the floor. It was all around her. The boiling fury receded from her vision, but in its place was a whirling circle of inky black.
Ki-ershan caught her before she hit the floor. Wardley slipped out of her arms. His body slumped against Vittiore’s headless form, his head nuzzled against the small of her back. Before Dinah lost consciousness, she heard Iu-Hora’s voice in her head. She had cut out the heart of the one she loved most.
Fourteen
Dinah swam slowly up toward consciousness. Up, up, out of the void, to light and hushed voices. Up, out of violent dreams filled with unspeakable horrors and bleak futures. Up, toward Harris, who softly called to her.
“Dinah, Dinah . . .”
Dinah opened her eyes. She was back in her chambers, in her own bed. She looked down. A plain white nightgown, completely without blemish or adornment, covered her body. Dinah exhaled a sigh of relief and let her head fall back onto the goose-down pillow. It had been a dream, thank the gods, the most terrible dream. Her eyes closed again, reaching back for the deep sleep that had eluded her that night.
“Dinah.”
With a start, she turned her head and opened her black eyes. Harris’s face was next to hers, his chair pulled up next to the bed. He cradled her face gently in his wrinkled hands, his skin like thin paper. His face was tired and worn, and his eyes were bloodshot.
“Oh, Dinah, my child.” He rested his hand on her forehead. “What have you done?”
Dinah slowly raised up her hands. Dried blood covered them, deeply caked in the cracks of her fingers, crusted in the valley of her wrist.
“No!” She clumsily pulled herself out of bed and ran to her mirror. The monster in her dreams stared back at her. Blood speckles covered her face. Her tangled hair was matted and damp with sweat. Dried blood streaked her arms. The soles of her feet were covered with it. She let out a shriek.
“Get it off, Harris! Get it off me!”
He simply stared at Dinah.
“Get it off me! I command it!” She was hysterical now as she made her way to the tub, climbing in and fumbling with the long, swan-necked spout that dangled from the ceiling. “Please, Harris! Help me!”
Harris’s gaze was unwavering. A hissing stream of water poured out of the spout and Dinah held it over her head, not bothering to take off her nightgown. The scalding water burned her skin, but the dried blood began to flake off and form rivulets that circled the drain. Sobbing, she grabbed a hedgehog skin and scrubbed her hands, feet, and face until her own skin began to crack and bleed. Again and again she raked the washskin over her hands, muttering, “No, no, no, oh gods, no . . .”
Finally, Harris walked over. He took the hedgehog skin from her and set it down beside the bath. “No amount of scrubbing,” he said simply, “will take the blood off your hands.”
Dinah pulled her nightgown off and watched it float on the surface of the water like a crimson ghost.
Harris turned off the water and wrapped a towel around her red form, so hot that wisps of steam curled from her shoulders. As Dinah shook and cried, he draped a loose purple dress over her and ran a brush through her hair. She stared blankly into the mirror.
“I killed her.”
“Yes.”
“Wardley loved her.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know?”
Harris rose and began setting up tea in the corner. She turned and looked at him, her eyes wide.
“Did you know?”
“I suspected. But I never knew.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Harris eyed the bathtub and the red rim around the drain. “For this very reason. Because I knew your reaction would be one of rage. I knew of the fury that burns inside you, even when you were small. So like your father—”
“But he wasn’t my father. I’m not supposed to be like him at all.”
Harris’s hands trembled as he put the lid on the teapot. “It’s true, you are not his natural child, but you have inherited his nature, since he was the only father you’ve ever known.” He set the tea down before her. “I prayed that you would not do this. Do you understand what you have done to Wardley?”
Dinah’s hands shook as she buried her face in them. “No. Yes. Oh my gods, Vittiore . . . Wardley . . .” She let out a sob. “He’ll never forgive me! He loved her. I saw his face. . . .”
The pain of that statement twisted inside her, a hard thorn of truth. He loved her. He had never loved Dinah, not in that way. She had been chasing a ghost through these hallways. Now she had killed his lover. Her sister. Faina Baker’s daughter. A daughter and mother beheaded, an entire family wiped out by the line of Hearts.
Dinah ran out to the balcony and proceeded to empty the remnants of food in her stomach. She knelt on the hard marble, her face pressed against the cool stone. A door slammed in her chambers and she heard snippets of a heated exchange between Harris and Cheshire. Cheshire’s pointed boots came into view.
“Your Majesty, I implore you to get off the floor. We have much to do today.”
Dinah looked at him with disgust. “Do you not know what I have done?”
Cheshire wrapped his hand around her
arm and yanked her to her feet. He turned her face to the sweeping view from her balcony. “What do you see, my queen?”
“Cheshire, I killed her. In cold blood, I killed her.”
Her adviser and father shook his head. “What do you see?”
“I see nothing,” she sobbed. “Land and roads.”
He grabbed her face with his long fingers. “Then you obviously cannot see clearly. When I look out, I see a kingdom in desperate need of a leader. I see a kingdom that is open to being sacked by the Yurkei. I see a kingdom that needs its queen, so you had best get off that filthy floor and put on your crown and do your duty.”
Dinah yanked back. “I killed her. I murdered her. Do you understand?” She let out a gasp of horror. “Oh gods, I cut off her head.” She couldn’t breathe.
Cheshire stroked his chin. “I am quite aware of your actions, considering that I was forced to clean up your mess.”
“Clean up?”
He nodded. “Ki-ershan came and found me not long after you sent the whore to her maker. He carried you back to your chambers. At my instructions, he changed your nightgown and burned the other. After that, he laid you in your bed and I took care of the rest.”
Dinah’s eyes grew wide with fear. “Where is Wardley? What did you do to him?”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t touch a curly hair on his head. He’s been thrown into the Black Towers for now, where he can consider his actions.”
Dinah gasped. “The Black Towers? No, you must retrieve him at once. I must speak with him.”
Cheshire’s black eyes found hers before he gave her a pitying smile. “He will not speak with you. You beheaded the love of his life before his eyes. Do you really believe you will be able to simply apologize and make it right?”
Dinah’s eyes flooded with tears. She had lost him. Forever.
“I will not have him in the Black Towers. Have him moved here, to a secure location inside the castle. Make sure he has no weapons or anything to harm himself with, not even a bedsheet. And make sure he is well fed and clothed.”
Cheshire gave a slight bow, annoyed by her orders. “As you wish. Though please remember that he is a liability to us that we cannot afford.”
Dinah gasped. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that you do not understand what the consequences would be if word got out that the Queen of Hearts was a bloodthirsty murderer like the former King of Hearts. Your kingdom would fall. Mundoo would bring the Yurkei back and burn the city.”
“He wouldn’t. . . .”
“He would, and he could. If he finds out about this, he will turn his warriors around and they will ride straight back here, relieve you of your throne, and throw you in an empty grave. Mundoo can never know. We have no men to defend this city from an attack. You must destroy all the evidence of last night.”
Dinah looked around. “Where is Ki-ershan?” Her voice rose. “Where is he?”
“Ki-ershan has been persuaded to keep his mouth shut. He is loyal to you, though I think he wonders why. He is resting now but will be back on your guard by nightfall.”
Though she looked out onto the steady stones of the palace, Dinah could feel everything around her collapsing. Inside, her heart faded and shrank into itself. It was becoming a black, dead thing.
“Please leave me.”
Cheshire hesitantly placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t let guilt overcome you. You did what needed to be done. Vittiore—Alice—was a traitor, and by taking Wardley, she took something that belonged to the queen. Her death will make things much easier for all of us in the long run. Have no regrets, my daughter. The situation has been wiped clean. No one will ever know.”
Dinah was flustered. “But . . . what will we tell the kingdom about Vittiore? They loved her.”
“I have already set rumors in motion that she requested to be sent as an ambassador to Ierladia and that she left this morning. You know, it was too hard to see you on the throne here, and she didn’t want to serve as a lady-in-waiting, and so on. A tragedy will befall her on the road. Pirates or robbers, I haven’t decided yet.”
Dinah narrowed her eyes as she stared at Cheshire in amazement. Of all the wonders she had seen in Wonderland, the mind of this devious man was by far the most impressive—and dangerous—one. Overnight, her crime had disappeared, though she doubted the scars she had left on Wardley would ever fade. Every time she blinked she saw Vittiore’s golden curls, soaked with blood, and heard Wardley’s screams of agony. Those screams would never leave her.
“What of her body?”
“It has been disposed of.”
Dinah shuddered. “I am not in the mood for guessing games, Cheshire. What of her body?”
Cheshire’s direct gaze pierced her flesh. “Burned. The ashes were scattered outside the palace. It is as if she never existed.”
“That is . . .” Dinah searched for the word. Cheshire answered her before she could grasp it.
“That is the reality of being queen. You can make people disappear. The kingdom hinges on your actions, and therefore when the wheel needs to be turned in your favor, it will be. Now, on to other business . . .”
Dinah smacked his teacup and sent it shattering to the floor. “Other business? Other business? I murdered her! I killed her, with my own hands.”
“You have killed many with your own hands, or have you forgotten the battle? Or even before that? What about the Heart Cards that you slew as you fled the castle? Faina Baker, who died because of you? Or the Yurkei warriors that Morte killed? The King of Hearts? How many, Dinah, have you killed? Your hands are hardly clean.”
“Those were different.”
“How so? Most of those people you killed to get your crown. War is a brutal act, and many innocents die in the cross fire. Vittiore stood between you and your future happiness with Wardley. You long to crown him king, gods know why, and she had manipulated his affections. There will always be bodies that litter your road to power. Every ruler has secrets.”
“I did not want to start my rule with secrets. I don’t want to be like him.”
Cheshire stroked his beard. “Take heart that you are more like me than him. So, shall we lie in bed and cry for days about it? Or will you rise and rule? Today is just another day, my queen.”
Dinah was staring at her hands again, at the half-moons of dried blood stuck underneath her fingernails.
“Leave me alone.”
“Your Majesty.”
“Get out!” she screamed.
Cheshire’s eyes clouded over with disappointment, and he stalked toward the door. At the last moment, he whirled around. “Don’t forget, she was nothing more than a fisherman’s daughter from the Western Slope. In her heart, Vittiore was a peasant. A very pretty, poor little peasant named Alice. Her life is worth nothing compared to your crown, one that many of us have worked hard to get upon your stubborn head.”
The heavy door slammed behind him, and for the first time in a very long time, Dinah was completely alone.
Days passed in darkness. Dinah drew the shades and rarely strayed from her bed. Harris tried to coax her to move and to bathe, but she was haunted by her memories. Wardley’s screams. The feel of the blade as it cut through Alice’s neck. The finality in her eyes when she stared at Dinah. The way she and Wardley had been lying, so tangled up in each other. The musky smell of their passion that lingered in the air like smoke. Her name, Alice, so sweet and lovely, so fitting for the girl. Vittiore had been nothing more than a grand title bestowed by the King of Hearts, who found “Alice” to be simple and plain, unbefitting a queen. Dinah’s dreams were filled with her, and she was vaguely aware that Alice would occupy each dream she ever dreamed again.
Ki-ershan returned, but his love for Dinah had obviously changed. He was distant—still her protector, but no longer her friend. He did not speak unless spoken to and soon faded into the very walls he stood against.
Harris counseled her, talked with her, prayed with her. But eve
n his patience had a limit, and Dinah was frequently left alone with her thoughts. Alice drifted around her like a ghost, and Dinah became convinced that she was being haunted. She frequently found herself sitting up at night, shocked out of sleep by a malicious presence.
“Who’s there?” Dinah would wave the candle around her room. “Alice? Is that you?”
But the room never revealed anyone, and Dinah would lie back in bed, soaked with sweat, delirious, and very afraid. She ate only to live but not to enjoy. She took to drinking bottles of wine in the evening to help bring on sleep, but found herself visited by more and more terrors the emptier the bottle became. Everywhere, she saw the people she had killed. Men on the battlefield. The Heart Cards. Faina. Alice.
Dinah became convinced that nothing would ever change and she would die here alone, a bitter and defeated queen. She’d be loved by no one, as guilty as the King of Hearts, and never be the leader she was born to become.
Through her waking hours she heard Iu-Hora’s words echoing in her head like a chorus: You will cut out the heart of the one you love most. So she had. And in the process, she had become mad. Mad like her brother, the Mad Hatter. The Mad Queen of Hearts, holed up in her palace.
Dinah was lying motionless in her bed when Sir Gorrann kicked down the door to her bedroom, letting in painfully bright streams of light.
“Get up.” He yanked back her curtains and opened the doors to the balcony, letting in the early autumn breeze.
“Go away.”
“Yeh stink like hell. Come on.” He roughly tugged Dinah out of bed before shoving her toward the bath. “Here’s what going to happen. Yer going to take a bath, put on yer clothes and yer crown, and then yeh are going to come with me to the council meeting.”
“I—I can’t,” stammered Dinah. “You don’t know what I did.”
“I do know. Harris told me yer a murderous bitch, that’s for sure! But yer also my queen, and it’s time to rule.” He stood before her closet, bewildered. “My gods. Which of these frocks does a queen wear? How about this nice, eh, peachy one? This is peach, right?”
War of the Cards Page 14