Back in her chambers, nursing the growing bruise creeping across her neck, Dinah pulled book after book down from the shelf. Harris came in, rubbing his eyes.
“Child, what are you searching for? It’s quite late, and you haven’t even been to bed.”
Dinah barely looked up. “Harris, I’m glad you’re awake. Help me find something.”
“Let me get my spectacles.”
After a few minutes of searching, Dinah found his glasses and together they pulled a giant, dusty book down from the shelf. Wonderland: A History. Dinah flipped it open.
“Does this have the list of traditions and ceremonies in it?”
“Why, yes!” Harris hopped from one foot to the other excitedly. “Are you fancying learning more about those things? A good queen should always know—”
“No. I’m not.” Frustrated, Dinah shoved the book toward him. “I need to find the order for a coronation ceremony.”
“Hmmm . . .” Harris licked his finger and paged through a thick index. “Ah, yes. Here. Oh, this is very interesting.”
“Harris.”
“Sorry. Here it is.” He turned the book toward Dinah and pointed at an elaborate list of rules and practices. Dinah ran her finger down the worn pages, flipping to the next, and then the next.
“This is what I was looking for. Listen.” She read aloud.
“‘When a daughter takes the crown of Wonderland, she, by law, must wear the most extravagant crown in the kingdom. In most cases, the crown shall pass down from queen to queen, but only after the first queen’s death or forfeiture of her rule. If ever a crown is made of superior size and glory, then the new crown shall crown the queen, with the former crown melted and turned into jewelry.’”
She looked at Harris with amazement.
“The crown!”
Harris sat down at the table, disappointment written on his face.
“I’m surprised that you did not know that already. Did you listen to nothing I taught you?”
“That’s beside the point. At her coronation—what crown did Vittiore wear?”
Harris bit his lip and looked at the floor. “As you may remember, my queen, I was imprisoned in the Black Towers during the coronation. But I’m sure it was a wonderful event.”
Dinah reached out and laid her palm across his hand. “Wardley said that Vittiore—Alice, whoever—did not wear this.” She pointed to her own splendid diamond crown, resting on its designated lavender pillow. “In fact, Wardley said he had never seen it.”
“And?”
“And why wouldn’t the king give this crown to Vittiore? Or wear it himself even? No finer crown has ever been made in the history of Wonderland. The king took everything he ever desired, that was his nature, and so why wouldn’t he take my crown and put it on her head? It would have been symbolic, fitting even. The king would do that, would he not?”
Harris’s head was tilted. “Yes, he would. He was a man who loved to make examples of anyone who crossed him. Putting the crown your brother made for you on Vittiore’s head would have brought him great pleasure. He was wicked that way.”
“Exactly. So why didn’t he? Why didn’t Vittiore or the king wear this crown?”
There was a silence in Dinah’s chambers. Ki-ershan sat awake on his cot, his chest rising and falling with silent breaths. Dinah looked down at the book, and back at Harris again, this time with wide eyes.
“Because the king didn’t know about the crown. He never knew it existed.”
Harris lowered his glasses.
“What does this mean to you, then? You look positively stunned. I don’t understand.”
Dinah began pacing back and forth in front of the table. “The night I found Charles, the crown he made for me was missing. I assumed that the king took it, since he had been there. But the king didn’t have it. He didn’t know about it.”
“Which means?” Harris was looking concerned now, beads of sweat pooling on his forehead.
“Which means that someone else was in Charles’s room that night. Someone who took the crown. I have to go. Right now.”
“Dinah, it’s the middle of the night. You can’t go anywhere. You’ve had a very taxing day.”
Dinah felt her sore neck, a fresh wave of guilt and shame washing over her. Was she so like her fathers? Could she choose a different path? Was it too late?
“I have to go. Ki-ershan?”
But Ki-ershan was already out of bed, strapping a bow and arrows to his back and tucking a dagger into his waistband.
“Where are you going?” Harris asked.
“Into town. No one can know I am gone. Do you understand? No one.”
Harris bowed before her.
“I’ll be back before first light. Hopefully.” She kissed his ruddy cheek.
“Where are you going?” Harris asked again, looking worried, tapping his feet under the table.
“To find two lords.”
With that, Dinah rushed out the door, a black cloak swirling after her, her Yurkei guard by her side.
Sixteen
Scurrying through the alleys like rats, Dinah and Ki-ershan made their way from the palace to the lower residences of the court. These small but distinguished houses bordered the sides of the palace, occasionally jutting out like crooked teeth.
The houses of the court were built so that the buildings connected with one another by use of tunnels, hallways, and hidden doors. One man’s kitchen might back up to another man’s bedroom, and walls were thin. They were a perfect little puzzle of gossip, drinking, and other scandalous activity, all of which kept the court very entertained.
Dinah and Ki-ershan ran through the darkness, hiding periodically in crevices and under stoops to avoid Cards or townspeople. After checking their surroundings, Dinah stepped up to a stone house, clustered against several others in the damp evening. She peered at the names posted above the door, written in a muddled scrawl. “Lord and Lady Geheim. That’s so strange. . . .”
One door after another, they continued checking for the two names Dinah was looking for. She was vaguely familiar with which family resided in which homes—this from making endless rounds of teas and tarts with the ladies of the court—but the names she was looking for weren’t here. They reached the end of the row, and Dinah stomped her feet with frustration on the immaculately manicured lawns.
“I was sure that they lived on this row. Sure of it . . .”
Ki-ershan stood silently beside her. She stopped for a moment and ran a hand over her chin, following a thread of memory that linked back to her carefree days of chasing Wardley through these alleys and streets. With a smile, she turned to Ki-ershan.
“Follow me.”
Dinah circled back to the first house she had checked, the residence of Lord Geheim. His door was painted a lovely shade of lavender.
“Lift me?” she asked Ki-ershan. He gave her a doubtful look but did as she commanded. Teetering on his shoulders, Dinah peered closely at the sign overhead and brushed at it with her hand. Black charcoal covered her fingers. Frantically, she rubbed the sign with the cuff of her sleeve. Lord Geheim washed off cleanly, and beneath it, carved directly into the wood, was one of the names she was looking for—Lord Delmont.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Put me down.”
Dinah pulled up the hood of her cloak and pounded on the door. No one answered. She pounded again, this time with repeated thrusts, meant to scare whoever was inside. The door cracked open, and a tiny blond girl with her hair in ringlets opened the door. For a minute, Dinah’s breath was sucked away. She didn’t look anything like Alice, and yet, the blond curls still froze her in place.
“May I help you, ma’am?” the child asked shyly. “What business do you have here?”
“I need to speak to Lord and Lady Geheim, if you please.” Dinah smiled at the girl, who did not smile back.
The door shut in her face with a slam, and Dinah could hear raised voices inside. Lord Geheim eventually yanked open the door and glowe
red down at her, his wild white hair transparent in the moonlight. He squinted his eyes in the darkness.
“Vagrants! How dare you interrupt my night with my family. What business have you here, in the houses of the court?”
Dinah dropped her own voice to a whisper, hoping he would do the same.
“I need to speak with you, sir. May I come inside?”
“You may not! Get out of here, take your filth and go! Perhaps find a place to sleep, or maybe go whore yourself out to the Spades. I’m sure they could use some warm thighs to comfort them in their barracks.”
He waved his hands as if she was a cat he was shooing away. Dinah stepped forward into the light and let her hood fall from her face.
“Do not come any closer, wretch, or—”
Dinah saw his eyes narrow in confusion and then widen. Geheim dropped to his knees.
“Oh gods, Your Majesty! I apologize. I did not realize it was you!”
Lady Geheim, standing behind her husband, dropped to the ground, followed by the towheaded child. The older man was stammering now.
“I have spoken ill to the queen. Gods have mercy. Your Majesty, please forgive me. Please do not take your anger out upon my family, I beg of you, not for my insolent tongue!”
Dinah walked into the house, Ki-ershan at her heels. It was elaborately decorated, filled with golden trinkets and chandeliers. Like most houses of the court, the family’s wardrobe was in the center of the room, with candy-colored dresses and suits hung on a rotating pulley system. It was surrounded by high-backed chairs, so that the family could admire their belongings as they took their tea. Dinah spied one of her brother’s hats hanging on a lower rung. She cleared her throat as she surveyed the trembling family.
“There is no need for such pleading apologies, though I would ask you to have more sympathy for those less fortunate than yourself. You never know who is knocking on your door.”
“You are correct, Your Majesty.”
“You may rise. I am here to ask about Lord Delmont. Where might he be found?”
Lord Geheim rose to his feet, though his eyes remained glued to the ground.
“I’m sorry to be the one to have to share this with you, my queen, but Lord Delmont is dead.”
“And how did he come to be that way?”
Lady Geheim rose and stepped closer to Dinah. Dinah had spoken with her many times in passing. The heavy makeup she normally wore was washed cleanly from her face, revealing a spry and lovely older woman, with friendly crow’s-feet creeping away from sad brown eyes. Her graying hair fell gently away from her face.
“I am surprised that you have not heard, Your Majesty. Lord Delmont and his family fell violently ill, victims of some disease that lurked in their dinner. Doves, they had that night. Within hours, the entire family was dead. All here, in this house. The cook was executed by the king, and the dove coop burned to the ground.” Her eyes welled with tears. “It was such a sadness. Lord Delmont was a kind man, who loved his family. I heard he had fallen into some debt, but that he was slowly repaying his debts and caring for his family.”
She gave a sob. Dinah handed her a handkerchief from inside her cloak. Lord Geheim looked appalled that his wife would soil an item belonging to the queen, but the crying woman gladly wiped her eyes and nose with it.
“Lord Delmont had four children. Four boys, all in the prime of their youth, just like my Lyla. To think they died from boiled dove meat . . .” She dissolved into tears again.
Dinah hesitantly reached out and squeezed her shoulder. Ki-ershan raised his eyes to hers, and Dinah gave him a knowing look. Without warning, the little girl who had been watching them silently reached out to grab Ki-ershan’s hand. He looked down at her curiously as she gazed up at him in amazement. Lord Geheim walked across the room swiftly and scooped up his daughter.
Ki-ershan winked at the girl as Lord Geheim returned to the corner, holding his daughter protectively. Dinah thought about reprimanding him but decided against this fruitless effort. She turned back to the lady of the house.
“Was there anyone who Lord Delmont confided in? Anyone he was close to outside of his family?”
Geheim cleared his throat. “He was extremely close to Lord Sander, whose old residence was at the end of this row.”
“Was?”
“Did you not hear? Lord Sander and his family died in the battle. They were slain.”
“By?”
Lord Geheim shrugged, his eyes weary. “Does it matter? Lord Sander died on the battlefield, and his family was slain by a blade—probably Yurkei—while trying to barricade themselves in their home.”
He collapsed on a chair in the living room, his daughter on his lap, all traces of nervousness wiped out by exhaustion.
“These are dark times for the court of Wonderland. Our lives were once full of dancing, tea and tarts, fashion and feasting. Now, life is a hardship we can hardly bear.” Dinah looked at him with amazement. He was a wealthy man, living in a fine house with servants at his command. Hardship? She realized with a start just how naive the court was. They were nothing more than children who played at Wonderland Court. Lord Geheim continued, unaware of her skeptical eyes.
“I pray that your rule will bring the peace that we have so needed, even if it does come at a cost.”
His eyes lingered on his daughter, who was still staring with fascination at Ki-ershan.
Dinah sighed. “Is there anything else you can tell me about either of those two lords? Anyone they were consorting with?”
“Not that I can think of, Your Majesty. I am sorry that I cannot be of more help.”
Dinah stood and fiddled with her cloak strings. “Thank you for your time. I would ask that you speak of this to no one, not a word. Do you understand? Keep in mind that this is a matter of the crown, and speaking of it will carry a high cost.”
Lord and Lady Geheim’s faces paled. They understood what that meant.
“And might I suggest the next time you have visitors, offer them some tea—both of them.”
On her way out, she patted the little girl on the head. The girl beamed up at her like she was the sun. Dinah paused.
“I think I would like Lyla to become one of my junior ladies-in-waiting. Please send her up to the palace early next week to begin training.”
Lady Geheim gasped and put a hand over her heart. Then she gave a clumsy curtsy before sinking to the ground and gushing. “That is a great honor, Your Majesty. How can we ever thank you?”
“You can thank me by your silence.”
Ki-ershan checked outside the door and then ushered Dinah through it. They had walked only a few steps before Lord Geheim ran out, his nightshirt blowing around his ankles.
“Wait! Your Majesty—I just remembered something that may be helpful. Lord Sander had an apprentice, a young boy. His name is Swete Thorndike. I think he lives in the baker’s district.”
Dinah’s black eyes bore into his. “Thank you.”
He bowed before her. “My queen.”
Ki-ershan and Dinah swiftly made their way to the baker’s district. It was hardly a district—more like a cluster of carts and a few bakeries. The houses were smaller here, but still pretty and quaint. Though it was very early in the predawn hours, the lights of the bakers’ houses were ablaze with pink flames. The inhabitants were up early, baking bread for the day. The smell of warm yeast drifted up and through the lots, and Dinah’s stomach gave a quiet grumble.
As they came around a corner, she spied a round woman stacking loaves of steaming bread onto a cart. The woman’s heavy breasts swung forward in her tunic as she covered the loaves with a checkered blanket. Dinah and Ki-ershan approached and the woman slyly reached under her cart, probably looking for a weapon. Dinah pulled back her hood, revealing her black hair.
“We are not here to hurt you, madam. I am simply looking for the house of Thorndike.”
The woman narrowed her eyes at Dinah, trying to put together where she had seen this woman before.<
br />
“I’m Ruby Thorndike. How can I help you?”
“Yes, I’m looking for your son, Swete.”
The woman’s eyes filled with tears. “Do you know where he is? Has he been found?”
Dinah shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. We are looking to speak with him regarding Lord Sander.”
The woman slammed her hand on the cart, and a loaf of bread rolled off and bounced onto the ground. “Lord Sander,” she hissed. “Don’t speak to me of him! Coward that he is! He’s responsible for everything.”
Dinah gestured for the woman to sit on a stone bench near the cart and lowered herself beside her. The woman’s eyes went wide when she recognized Dinah.
“Why, you’re . . . you’re the Rebel Queen!”
Dinah smiled kindly. “Just the queen now. But please continue.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. As I was saying, Lord Sander and his highborn family took my son away. I was raising him to be a baker, like his father, who died when Swete was two. Raising him to love bread, just like his mother. There was flour on the boy’s hands since the day he was born. But Swete wanted more. He wanted to be a member of the court—a ridiculous lot of useless birds though they are, even if their coins keep us from being cast out of Wonderland proper.”
She leaned forward and continued pulling loaves out of the cart.
“Swete followed Lord Sander around, trying to learn everything he could and work his way up into his good graces. Lord Sander indulged him, teaching him how to make ale, how the lords and the ladies dressed. All nonsense, in my opinion. Yet he never invited him to join him at court, never gave the lad anything of value. My son was no more than a servant, a pet to amuse him!” She spat on the ground.
“One day Swete came home and he was mumbling, nervous, terrified. He clutched a package in his hands and kept glancing around nervously. Said that he had to hide something, said that Lord Sander had fallen in with someone unsavory. Sander owed a debt, a debt to someone dangerous. Swete feared for Lord Sander’s life, and now I wonder if he feared for his own as well. That day he swore to me that he was never going back to Lord Sander. I didn’t ask about the details—I was blinded, you see, happy to have my son back, so I didn’t want to upset him. I asked him to show me what was in the package, and he said he couldn’t. So I didn’t ask again. That was almost a year ago.” She wiped tears from her eyes.
War of the Cards Page 16