Finally, Dinah spoke, her voice breaking with emotional exhaustion. “What does he want me to do?”
Sir Gorrann shifted in his seat and withdrew a pipe. “Isn’t it obvious? He wants yeh to take what’s yers. The crown. Yer mother’s throne at Wonderland Palace. He wants yeh to rule.”
“And what do you want?”
Sir Gorrann blew a stream of smoke into the air, the tail end smelling of horses and sweet leaves. “I want yeh to do what yeh believe is right. I long for the King to be brought to justice, but I’ll bring him justice one way or another, now or twenty years from now, either at yer side or by some other means. I’ll not make yeh carry my burden.”
Dinah frowned. “Justice.” She laughed wildly. “Do I not long for that as well? The King killed my brother. Cheshire saved my life.”
“That he did. And from the sounds of it, more than once. But yeh don’t owe him anything. Yeh do not want to owe a man like that. Do yeh understand? Yeh don’t.” The Spade was getting upset. Dinah shushed him with a glance. He took a breath. “Do yeh believe him? About him being yer father?”
Dinah shut her eyes. That was the question, wasn’t it? She didn’t want to believe him. She wanted everything to go back to how it was long before—when she was a child in her mother’s arms, when Charles was still alive, when the King of Hearts was still her father and she could look on him with pride, even when she trembled with fear at his fury. Back to a time when Wardley was near, an apple in one hand and reins in another. Dinah considered carefully before she spoke.
“I don’t want to believe him, and yet, when he said these… things, I could feel that pieces of my life that were scattered about were clicking into place. Everything fits together now, in a way it didn’t before.” She shook her head. “It’s gruesome, but there was a conclusion, a finality about it. It makes sense—why I don’t look anything like my father—er, the King—or Charles. Why the King hated me my entire life, why he beat my mother, why he so frequently escaped to go to war. Why he never wanted me to share his throne.” She let out a low scream before beating one clenched fist against her chest. “Gods, I am such a FOOL!”
No sooner had her voice echoed over the rocks than a loud clamor of high screams echoed back. Both Dinah and Sir Gorrann froze in place. The screams grew louder, until Dinah realized that what she was hearing was a growing cacophony of high-pitched bird calls. It was growing louder, a terrible sound. Crawling on her hands and knees, Dinah cautiously peeked her face over the edge of the stone circle and immediately felt her stomach drop. What she had guessed to be nothing but white-washed stone below was actually birds, hundreds of thousands of white cranes nesting fifty feet below the edge of the cliff. Their rising sound was deafening, and Dinah felt her pulse quicken. The birds could kill them both. With newfound understanding, she glanced back at the religious markings on the ground, the dark brown spots that stained the stone in certain places. She closed her eyes and saw a prisoner, tied down to the stone, left for the birds. A sacrifice. Oh gods.
Sir Gorrann looked over the edge with a grimace. “These cranes are holy to our hosts. The Yurkei worship them. They are at once gods and a food source, equal parts in the chain of life.” His eyes too lingered on the brown stains on the rock face. “We shouldn’t stay here long.”
Dinah watched the cranes in silence, her black eyes wide with fascination and fear. The birds eventually calmed down, their wings tucking back, settling into their one massive nest. Dinah thought she spotted the carcass of a horse. It was still moving slightly. Their cries faded, and Dinah spoke quietly. “Cheshire wants me to reclaim my throne. He thinks I am a conqueror. A conqueror without an army.”
“The Yurkei will fight for you.”
“Fight for me,” she laughed out loud. “They hate me. The Yurkei will fight for Mundoo. They have no interest in fighting for me. Have you seen their faces when I walk by?” She saw them then, their glowing blue eyes following her every move, their brows knotted in fury. “And there aren’t very many of them, not compared to the Cards.”
“Have you ever seen the Yurkei fight?” replied Sir Gorrann. “One Yurkei can best four Cards.” He shook his head. “They move with an unnatural swiftness. It’s unnerving.”
“It’s still not enough,” she corrected him. “If it did happen, which I’m not saying it will, how could it… happen?”
Sir Gorrann took his time phrasing his careful reply, one eye trained on the simmering crane nest below. “Cheshire has been meeting with Mundoo for a few days now.”
Dinah bit her lip. So that’s where Mundoo had been going.
“They are still hammering out an acceptable treaty. From what I can gather, in return for fighting for yeh, they will get all their lands back inside the Twisted Wood, and a promise that we will never try to take them again, by any measure.”
Dinah shook her head in amazement. “What are we talking about? Just a few hours ago, I was a prisoner of the Yurkei, and a few weeks before that, an outlaw, and before that a princess!”
Sir Gorrann shook his head. “Yeh never were just a prisoner.”
“Maybe I just want to be a prisoner! Or a nobody! Maybe I just want to stay here and live a normal life. Have you considered that?”
Sir Gorrann’s golden eyes studied her face. “Yeh don’t want that. I know yeh.”
Dinah felt a blush rise up her cheeks. “It doesn’t matter. What you’re telling me is that I’m to lead an army to Wonderland Palace that will surely be defeated? Am I correct? You’re saying that I should lead this fray all in a doomed attempt to sit on a throne because my mother once sat there?” Her voice was growing ever louder, more and more agitated. She felt the fury rising in her chest, the black boiling. She leapt to her feet. “Look at me, and tell me—who am I, Sir Gorrann? Who do you see when you look at me? Do you see my father’s daughter? Do you see Cheshire? Do you see a whimpering girl, or a Yurkei warrior? A spoiled princess? A conqueror? And who are you? A lonely man? Do you hope for a crown upon your head, Sir Gorrann?”
She was yelling now, and she could hear the agitated squawks from below as the birds began to stir once again. Thousands of wings began to flap in the night air, the stirrings of flight.
“Shut yer mouth, girl! Be quiet! Do yeh long to be pecked to death?” Sir Gorrann was growing agitated as well. His face was contorted with an anger that seemed to light up the valley. “Yer acting like a child, that’s what yeh are! A spoiled brat who has been given everything! And now, a man brings an army to yer feet and yeh aren’t sure what to do? That’s not for me to tell yeh! I’m just a dirty Spade, a tracker, a broken man, I know yeh see that!”
They were furious with each other now, yelling in whispers, their sentences overlapping, spit flying from their mouths. Sir Gorrann’s forehead pulsed with a purple vein. “Who am I, yeh ask? I am not who I once was, a man with a wife and a daughter. We become who we must to overcome pain and to make things right again! Everything I have done, I have done to get justice for my family! I have not brought yeh this far to have yeh ask someone else what yeh should do!”
Sir Gorrann pointed to one of the vertical rock faces that divided the west and east sides of the valley. His small fire had thrown its light, and their large shadows danced across it. “I know who I see! No matter what Cheshire said, yer still the same person that yeh were before yeh came upon that tea table. It’s not his arrival that has changed anything; it’s just yer understanding of the past. There’s nothing I can tell yeh, but I would say to look with yer own damn eyes!” He began walking toward the sloping path that led down to the valley. “I’ll say goodnight, for yer in a right mood. And if yeh don’t be careful, those birds aren’t going to stay dormant.”
“Go away,” she said quietly. “I don’t want to see anyone right now.” The black fury was stirring inside of her. She would not let his arguments push her over the edge of sanity.
With a huff, he began descending down the winding path, muttering to himself about “Cheshire’s ma
d daughter.” Dinah was suddenly alone, comforted only by the crackling fire that continued to project massive dancing shadows on the rock walls. She felt swept away by a surge of emotion, as if she was drowning in a tidal wave of her own confusion. A thousand different hands were reaching inside her head, each yanking at a string. Her once-father, the King of Hearts. Her now-father, Cheshire, with his slippery feline smile. Sir Gorrann. Mundoo. Bah-kan. Wardley, Charles, Harris, Faina Baker, Vittiore. Their faces ran together, each one a part of her, but none of them giving her the answer she needed. Images chased each other through her mind, a game of insane tag: Wardley, kissing her under the Julla Tree. Her mother, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Charles, a finely crafted hat in his hand. Lucy and Quintrell, bloody and piled in a closet. An empty table. She closed her eyes and felt the heat from the fire sear close to her face. Then she willed the thousand voices to be quiet.
Unconsciously, she raised her arms, the pain of her shoulder making her wince through the confusion. Be silent, she shouted to the voices in her head. Be silent! she commanded again. Silence! Finally, she pushed them down until it was only her own voice that she heard. She lowered her hands. Be quiet, all. There was a stillness within her, and Dinah allowed herself to reach inside to gather her thoughts. When she opened her eyes again, she looked up at the rocky cliff face and immediately saw what Sir Gorrann had been pointing at. Stunned, Dinah lifted her chin in a way that she hadn’t done since she fled the palace. With the fire leaping behind her, the shadow of her figure loomed huge on the rock walls: a giant, almost larger than the mountain itself. And on her head, the shadow of the crown that Cheshire had placed upon her.
Dinah reached up and felt the brim of the crown with her shaking fingers, the gold warm from the growing flames. She had forgotten she was wearing it, she was so used to its weight and feel. It was natural for her—she had been practically born wearing that particular crown. It stayed put even as she had torn through the trees and bramble. It felt right on her head, and the spikes that dug into her temple gave her a steadiness that she hadn’t felt in a long time. She stared at her shadow, and the commanding figure with the crown shimmered in the flames. Her mind cleared. The answer was here. This was who she was, who she had always been. She was no one’s daughter, no one’s warrior, no one’s scapegoat or prisoner. She wasn’t a spoiled princess or the savior of a foreign people. Dinah raised her eyes to the circling stars, and her shadow straightened in accordance.
I am the Queen, she thought.
That’s who I am. I am the Queen of Hearts, born to sit in one of two Heart Thrones. I am the Queen of Wonderland and I will have the crown that my brother made for me. I will take it with fury and swords and whatever help I can find. Pride blossomed in her chest, and every inch of her skin felt alive with promise and purpose. Suddenly aware of everything touching her, pressing against her skin, clinging to her neck, Dinah began taking off her clothing. She flung down her dagger and pulled the red tunic that represented Wonderland off over her head. Off came the feathery Yurkei pants and the boots that had been tucked into her bag, a million years ago. When she was finished, Dinah was without an inch of clothing on her body, without chains to bind or gifts to bribe or tools to shame her. She was naked, with only the crown on her head, a crown that was her right by birth, by the line of her mother. I am the Queen. Everyone in Wonderland would bow before her. She wasn’t afraid, not anymore. I am the Queen.
Alive in every way, Dinah flung a large burning piece of wood over the edge of the cliff, where it landed with a fiery burst in the massive nest. The air instantly thrummed with the sound of a thousand wings, and Dinah watched without fear as the sky filled with the enormous white cranes. They rushed at her with beating wings and sharp beaks, but she stood firm, naked and flushed, with only a crown on her head. They circled her, their loud cries coming ever closer, their beaks brushing her skin. “Go!” she screamed. “GO!” All around her was a sea of white feathers, but Dinah dared not close her eyes. There was a moment where the seething flock hovered just above her and all around her, an angry hissing and squawking swarm, considering an attack on this strange creature wearing a crown and blazing with righteous anger. Dinah’s black eyes stared at the birds, unflinching, daring them to touch her. The birds seemed to pause, violence on their minds, calculating the odds of taking on this latest sacrifice. Then, at the last moment, they rose into the air in an ever-widening spiral, blocking out the stars, the rock, everything. She had faced down the gods and won.
I am the Queen of Hearts, she thought, and I will take my throne.
The cloud of birds disappeared over the mountain and the air was silent again. She stood before the mountains, the painfully cold breeze whipping around her body. Something had changed here on this ledge, this piece of etched rock stained with an ancient religion. Dinah saw her path unfold before her, confident of what she needed to do and who she was. I am the Queen of Hearts. She was a queen, she would have her throne and when she had that, she would deliver Charles his justice. This was her fate and she was, for the first time, unafraid for her future. The path to war was suddenly the least scary option of all, because it was right. Once the birds had completely disappeared into the night sky, she breathed deeply until her heart stopped pounding. Dinah left the fire to burn itself out, but not before she glanced once more at her impassive shadow, so ferocious and secure, with the pointed tips of her crown brushing the top of the cliff face. A nagging voice told her that while she wasn’t as mighty as that queen, she would have to try to be. No matter the fear that would inevitably get her in her way, she had to try.
Dinah begrudgingly pulled all of her clothing back on and gave one quick glance at the Hu-Yuhar valley below. A crowd of Yurkei was gathering, and their voices gave way to silent awe as she made her way down the steep path carved into the rock wall. A nervous group of men waited for her at the bottom of the narrow staircase: Cheshire, his purple robes billowing in the wind and his hands resting together as if in prayer; Sir Gorrann, his weathered face a mask of concern; Mundoo, fierce and proud, the leader of his people; and Bah-kan, who towered over all of them, terrifying and vicious, clutching his Heartsword. The men watched her as she made her way down, her emotionless face betraying nothing. Hundreds of fascinated Yurkei gathered at the bottom watching her with their piercing blue eyes, almost luminescent in the darkness. She drew ever closer to the small group of men who had played her like a pawn, those men who had deftly moved her toward her destiny. Cheshire’s face broke into a wide smile when he saw the crown on her head. He quickly bent at the knee and bowed before her in grand fashion. Sir Gorrann followed. Mundoo and Bah-kan simply nodded in her direction. They would not bow before her.
Mundoo cleared his mighty throat. “Princess. We have much to speak about.”
Dinah wouldn’t realize until later that three simple words would forever change the face of Wonderland.
“It’s Your Highness,” she corrected him. “And I imagine we do.”
Chapter Thirteen
Seasons changed the landscape with alarming ferocity as the next few months flew by. Even the grass was different here in the Darklands, thought Dinah, as she watched the pale-blue ferns ripple across the murky landscape. Everything was softer and wetter. Her steed pawed impatiently at the ground, thirsty and ready to plunge his head into the swirling currents of cool water that ran just beneath the moss. Her hair, damp and twisted with white ribbons, blew out before her and Dinah shuddered in the morning air as something round and glowing slithered just underneath the foamy brush. She had expected the South to be warm and humid. She had been right about the humidity, but with the still, moist air of the Darklands came a certain chill in the early morning, the wet air holding on to the bite of night.
It had been a hellish march south—they had lost several Yurkei along the way, between the hidden bogs and the strange poisonous creatures that seemed to lurk under every rock. Disturbingly, the Twisted Wood seemed downright tame compared to the D
arklands. As she dug her hand into her steed’s tangled mane, Dinah hummed a song softly under her breath, a song her mother taught her so very long ago. A song, she now knew, Davianna had learned from Cheshire. The landscape was brutal, but even with danger surrounding her on all sides, Dinah felt stronger than ever. Her crown rested on top of her head, its rightful place, and Dinah felt powerful in the high saddle. Her stomach grumbled loudly. She was hungry, as she had been ever since they started their march southward. Moving a small army required much food, and there was never enough, it seemed, to satisfy everyone. Everyone could eat at least five times more, even the future Queen, who slept in a battered tent, curled around her sword. Dinah was still humming when Sir Gorrann’s trotted up next to her on Cyndy.
“Sir Gorrann, good morning.”
He didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Yer Highness, there is a conflict between two of the warriors. Ju-Kule and Freyuk are about to come to blows. Yeh must come quickly—their quarrel will surely end in even more divided loyalty amongst the Yurkei.”
Dinah nodded her head and with a click of her tongue sent her steed galloping toward the camp—a small city of circular white tents that held a thousand Yurkei warriors and, so far, about three hundred rogue Cards. Wonderful, she thought, another problem, another small battle. Planning a war, it turned out, was very complicated and took months to prepare. She bit her cheek nervously as she thought back on all the conflicts that had followed her down from the mountains.
The night she had accepted her fate as Queen, after she had descended from the Yurkei Mountain, she had, along with Sir Gorrann and Cheshire, climbed up into Mundoo’s tent. The fear had returned when she stared up at the ladder, but this time she had something other than survival at hand—she had reasons to live: vengeance and the throne. As the ladder billowed out behind her, Dinah forced herself to climb without fear. I am the Queen. Almost immediately after they began their tense discussion, it was very clear that each member of the war council entered with their own agenda. Mundoo longed for his people’s complete autonomy and independence from Wonderland Palace. In return for his people’s support in battle, he demanded the release of all their former lands back to the Yurkei, all the way north from the Ninth Sea up through the Todren and to the East, from the Twisted Wood until the end of the Yurkei Mountains. He also decreed that a representative of the Yurkei people was to sit on the Queen’s council, once established, and would have a vote in Wonderland’s affairs that both did and did not concern the Yurkei. It was a steep price to pay for her army, one that she would surely feel later if she was indeed crowned Queen. Part of the Yurkei lands included Ierladia, her mother’s hometown, the largest Wonderland stronghold in the North. The negotiations over Ierladia had taken three days, but in the end, a compromise had been reached. Mundoo agreed that the citizens and buildings of Ierladia would remain unharmed under Yurkei rule. While the Yurkei would ultimately own the city, Ierladia would still function as it always had—by doing trade and commerce with Wonderland Palace. The Yurkei would then reap a hefty portion of their taxes as the owners of the city. Tax was a strange concept to the Yurkei, but eventually they seceded to Cheshire’s plan.