“Yes, but we have the Yurkei….”
“The Yurkei have never attacked a city. What do they know of walls and iron gates and a palace made of stone and glass? The mounted Heart Cards will smash against the Yurkei on the north side, while we battle our way through a sea of Hearts, Clubs, and Diamonds, all while the Fergals rain arrows down around us.” Wardley shook his head. “If we are captured, our fate will be much more terrible than dying quickly on the battlefield. They will throw us into the Black Towers to rot, until we become one with the tree, or worse. The King of Hearts is a hateful man.” He looked over at Dinah, his brown eyes gazing with adoration and sadness over her drawn face. “I swear to you this day, here in this place, that I will kill you before I let the King torture you. And I hope you will do the same for me.”
Dinah smiled back at him, knowing that she would never be able to take Wardley’s life. No, not even to save him. Love had made her impassively hard and needlessly soft at the same time.
“I keep thinking,” he muttered, “that this might be the last time I do anything. The last time I eat bread. The last time I dip my foot in a pool. The last time that I get to speak with you as a friend, and not as a commander to his queen.”
Dinah felt her heart start to gallop within her chest. It raced so fast she felt it might explode. Despite all the oxygen running through her veins, she was frozen in place. Wardley seemed oblivious to her discomfort. He leaned back onto the mossy ground, stretching his arms above his head.
“Tonight could be the last night that I watch the stars simply to remember my place in this world. Everything that we have can be taken away. It will be taken away for many men that rest in those tents, maybe from you, maybe from me.”
Dinah felt the fury climbing up through her chest, only this time it was different. This was a longing, a need, something that felt like falling, like a string was yanking her heart out of her chest. Toward him, only him, always him. She was no longer in control—all she could feel was the needing, the wanting to touch him. The passion crawled up through her until she became its puppet. It moved her limbs, her mind, her lips. She wanted him. She had waited long enough, and had almost lost him once. He was still speaking when Dinah leaned over him, her arms on either side of his body.
“If this is the last then there is something…. Dinah, what are you doing?”
Tenderly, she bent over him, her lips brushing his, as gentle and soft as dew drops on a petal. His lips were warm and moist, and tipped with everything good Dinah had ever tasted. Her red lips dusted across his, feeling his mouth staying painfully still. He lay motionless, frozen. What am I doing? Dinah yanked her head back and looked down at him with confusion and hesitation.
Wardley gave a painful grimace, and then he grabbed the back of her head roughly, pressing his lips hard against hers. Dinah gasped at the force with which he kissed her. It was the opposite of gentle—it was a forceful, hungry kiss with more than a hint of anger beneath it. With a grunt, he flipped Dinah over onto her back and leveled his body over hers before he started kissing her again, ever harder and harder, until Dinah felt her lips going numb. It was delicious and full of pleasure, and yet, something wasn’t right. Wardley’s hands were pressed against her shoulders as if he was holding her down, or holding himself back. It was a defensive pose and his body was tensed in anger. As he kissed her furiously, Dinah felt a wet tear drip down his face onto her cheek. She pushed his face back. It took her a minute to catch her breath. This was not how she dreamed their first true kiss would be—aggressive and slightly violent.
“What? Wardley, what is wrong? What are you doing??” Her eyes traveled over the face she knew so well, and she could feel her heart wrench painfully when she recognized his grim determination. Her face, in turn, displayed a new emotion as she looked up at the man she loved so much: rejection.
“I’m sorry, Dinah.” He turned away from her, his voice shaking. “I can’t do this.”
Dinah’s hands clenched. “What do you mean, you can’t do this?”
Wardley sat back and extended his hand to help her up. Dinah slapped it away. “Please don’t touch me.” She sat up, her limbs trembling with unfulfilled passion.
“Dinah, please!” Wardley grabbed her roughly, his hands on the sides of her neck, his forehead pressed up against hers. His voice was filled with desperation. “Don’t you understand? I WANT to love you this way. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want to love you in this way, the way you love me. I’ve begged and pleaded with the gods to give me those feelings for you! I want to be your king, your husband, your lover. But I cannot…,” he struggled with the words. “I can’t force myself to feel those things for you, no matter how much I wish it, no matter how much I long to be the man you deserve.” He kissed her trembling forehead. “You are my best friend, a part of me! I love you, Dinah, and I will fight for your right to rule to my death! Does that mean anything? That I would die for you, gladly?” His face was contorted in agony as he looked into her black eyes. “Dinah, please! Please say something. I can’t bear the silence. Please!”
They were both breathing heavily now. Dinah stared at him, her heart shattering into heavy pieces. The world seemed to be cracking and breaking under her feet. Wardley opened his mouth again, his words broken and tender.
“You have no idea what I left behind to come and fight for you….”
“Do not speak to me.”
It was like being plunged into icy waters when you were burning hot—Dinah felt a ripping that was both parts of her soul and her vision of their future. She was left empty, drained—without her love, without him…. He would never be hers.
“Please leave.” She turned away from him, her voice flat and dead. “Please leave, Sir Wardley. You have done your duty here.”
He grabbed her arm and tugged it. “Stop it, Dinah! Don’t talk to me like that. Don’t turn away from me. I won’t leave you, not in this state. Please, look at me.”
She turned to him, her face a mask of stone. “You kissed me once. Is this all a game, Wardley? One more secret of my twisted upbringing? Did someone hire you to make me love you? Do you remember that day under the Julla Tree, when you kissed me? Was that part of the plan?”
Wardley grabbed her hands. “What are you talking about? Of course I remember. I kissed you because I wanted to. Because you were the first girl that I ever cared for. But even then, I knew that my feelings for you were not of that nature, no matter how much I tried to force them.”
“Force them? Did you force yourself to play with me when we were children? Or to seek me out when we were older? Were you forced to train me on the sword or to follow me here?”
Wardley shook his head angrily. “No. Never! You’re not listening. You don’t understand—Dinah, I would do anything for you!”
“Except truly love me in the way a man should love a woman,” she replied coldly. “Except kiss me.”
“Does that even matter? I am yours in every other way. I have chosen you, and I would again. If only I could make my heart obey what my brain knows so clearly. I have tried and tried. I don’t want to lie to you. I care about you too much. Dinah… please understand… you are my best friend. My Queen.”
There was a deep truth to his words, and yet, Dinah felt she couldn’t stand to look at his face anymore. Tears were flooding her vision, and a retching sob was making its way up her throat. She took a deep breath. “I need you to leave. Now. Please, Wardley.”
“Dinah, no—”
“I COMMAND it. Please, leave me.” She gave him a pleading look, a tear dripping down her face. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Please, Wardley, please do me this kindness.”
Wardley’s face contorted with a misery almost as terrible as the heartache she felt. He gave her the softest of kisses on her cheek and turned away from her, making his way to the edge of the clearing. “I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow morning as we ride north.” He stared at her, his face wrenched with guilt, before disappearing into
the bramble.
Dinah waited until she couldn’t hear his footsteps before collapsing into tears. An empty hopelessness overtook her, and she lay beside the pool, barely breathing through the ache. The thought of being with Wardley had kept her alive all those cold nights in the Twisted Wood, all those warm afternoons in Hu-Yuhar. She had always envisioned him sitting on the throne beside her, his hand in hers as they led Wonderland into a glorious and peaceful future. Now, there was nothing, only blackness and despair. She gladly gave herself over to the sorrow. It washed over her, a wave of anguish and rejection, and she let herself drown in the feeling, glad to feel anything.
For hours, she lay beside the pool, her heart throbbing over each word he had said. She sobbed and screamed, she raked the dirt with her fingers and let her dagger tremble over her neck for a few seconds before flinging it away. When the night finally settled around her, she heard someone calling her name. Wardley? She listened again. No. Sir Gorrann. With trembling hands, Dinah pushed herself to her knees and splashed the clear water of the pool on her face. Opening her black eyes, she stared at herself, hardly recognizing the face in the reflection. The girl she had been was gone. She had left Wonderland Palace an idealist, a naive girl who dreamed of an easy crown and ruling beside a man who would understand and love her heart. Their days would be filled with praise and their nights with perpetual passion, wrapped inside each other.
Now a jilted woman stared back at her, a forgotten child, a bitter warrior. The ends of her black braid dripped in the pool, the remnant of her childhood, this long black hair, her mother’s hair. And yet, even when her mother had everything—a crown, a husband, children, and all the riches of Wonderland Palace—she had been unhappy. She could never truly be with the man she loved. Just like Dinah. But unlike her mother, Dinah would not lie down and die. Unlike Davianna, Dinah would have to fight for her crown. Hands trembling, Dinah picked up her dagger where it lay buried in a nearby log and walked over to the pool. With two short tugs, she was able to cut off most of her hair, so that it hit her right at the chin. Without a second thought, Dinah tossed her braid into the pool and turned to meet Sir Gorrann, who ran up to her, his eyes filled with concern, his voice raining curses down on her that she didn’t hear. The pain was still alive inside of her, consuming and insatiable. She was rejected and desperate, filled with a new fury, this one dangerously ferocious. She was filled with a longing for destruction, a need to empty herself of all this sadness. He gave her a hard shake, and Dinah’s glossy eyes finally connected with his.
“Yer Highness! Dinah! What’s happened?”
Her lips trembled into an ironic smile. “He doesn’t want me. After all this time.”
Sir Gorrann’s eyes filled with empathy and he let Dinah lean against him. “I’m sorry, Yer Grace. Come on, let’s get you back to your tent.”
She felt raw inside, stripped, and she followed without thought. Only the anger was left behind, and it was a raging current, Dinah helpless in its flow. She let Sir Gorrann help her through the bramble back to where Morte waited for her. He pawed the ground impatiently until she mounted him. With a click of her tongue, they were flying over the landscape, leaving Sir Gorrann trailing far behind. She felt something shift inside of her. With each pound of Morte’s hooves, she felt her sadness turning to anger. Her rage was boiling over, spilling out until she seethed with fury. If she could not have him, she would at least have a crown.
If she could not quench the fire burning within her, she would set Wonderland ablaze.
The Fury, the final volume in the Queen of Hearts trilogy, coming soon.
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to the wondrous people who made this novel possible:
Ryan Oakes: for his endless feedback, support, and the sheer power of his belief in this novel, which propelled it from a vague idea into a tangible reality. Thank you for your unflagging love, your creative thinking, and your amusing knowledge about fantasy and fight training. Thank you for giving me the strength to stay true to my instincts and story.
For Maine: you are my wonder.
For Ron McCulley and Tricia McCulley, who are a model of patience, support, and just the right amount of parental devotion: thank you.
My elegant sister, Cynthia McCulley: thanks for always putting a smile on my face, and for agreeing to be a horse. Your shared love for dramatic music helped write this novel’s most exciting scenes. The next one is for you.
Beloved friends who helped this process by just being their superb selves as the story unfolded—Kimberly Stein, Sarah Glover, Emily Kiebel, Cassandra Splittgerber, Elizabeth Wagner, Jordan Powers, Terri Miller, Nicole London, and Karen Groves: thanks for listening when I described something in my head for hours.
My intimidating test readers—Katie Hall, Michelle Rehme, Erika Bates, Jen Lehmann, Denise McCulley, Patty and Sarah Jones, Angela Turner, Holly Cameron, and Stefanie Feustel: thank you for helping sculpt this novel into something I am very proud of.
This book passed through the hands of more than a few skilled editors: Erin Armknecht, a story and formatting editor whose input is so great that it simply cannot be calculated, Jeni Miller, whose skill and editing eye were both completely terrifying and completely accurate, Jess Riley and Wayne Parrish, the Queen of Hearts blazes so much brighter because of you.
Crystal Patriarche, Heidi Hurst, Sara DiVello, and the entire SparkPress/BookSparksPR team: you’re an amazing bunch.
To Erin Chan, equal parts charming and talented: thank you for being the striking silhouette that graces the cover.
Mae Whitman: thank you for being the inspiration behind my Dinah. You are a fierce little thing, and I admire every minute of your work.
Finally, the man, Lewis Carroll: Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland is the most delightful, cavernous thing I have ever read. Thank you for being the true genius behind these characters, and for letting me wander, pen out, in this magnificent place.
About the Author
Colleen Oakes is the author of the Queen of Hearts saga and the Elly in Bloom series. Though relatively new to publishing, her work has garnered the Next Generation Indie Book Award in the young-adult category. She received her BA in creative writing at Concordia College in Bronxville, New York. A proud member of the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers, Oakes lives in Denver with her husband and son, where she reads, swims, and writes. Connect with her at www.colleenoakes.com, at Facebook.com/authorcolleenoakes, or on Twitter @colleenblooms.
Look for her next fairy-tale trilogy, Wendy Darling, to land in 2015.
About SparkPress
SparkPress is an independent boutique publisher delivering high-quality, entertaining, and engaging content that enhances readers' lives, with a special focus on female-driven work. We are proud of our catalog of both fiction and non-fiction titles, featuring authors who represent a wide array of genres, as well as our established, industry-wide reputation for innovative, creative, results-driven success in working with authors. SparkPress, a BookSparks imprint, is a division of SparkPoint Studio, LLC.
To learn more, visit us at sparkpointstudio.com.
Colleen Oakes, Queen of Hearts: Volume Two: The Wonder
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