The Hornhoov pulled her head in their direction and the King began thundering toward them. Dinah clutched the tree, pressing her face against it, fearing that her heart would actually explode.
“Stay still,” ordered the voice. Dinah froze as her father’s Hornhoov walked closer and closer to them, his torch only lighting the few feet in front of him. Carefully, she raised her head and saw her father staring right at her, squinting in the darkness, his face a mask of righteous fury. Dinah didn’t move. He looked confused, as though he were unsure of what he was seeing. He tilted his head, his bloodshot eyes filled with rage and still squinting in the black night, looking right at Dinah but not seeing her. He was close enough that she could make out the sweat on his brow and smell the stink of drink clinging to his skin. She was sure he could hear her heart, which thudded with enough power to shake the tree.
Her father climbed off of the Hornhoov and began making his way toward the clump of trees where Dinah was standing. Hatred flooded over her fear, and she felt an intoxicating rush of fury circle up from inside her gut. He killed Charles, she thought. And I will kill him now, a shadow in the darkness. Yes, my King, come ever closer. Moving as slowly as she could, Dinah reached for her sword, her eyes trained on his neck, the only open spot in his armor. Suddenly there was a loud crash from the woods behind them.
“There!” yelled a soldier from a distance, “I heard something over there! I think it’s her!” The King’s face distorted with pleasure and he vaulted back onto the Hornhoov, turning her in the direction of the sound. Cheshire followed, giving a backward glance at the seemingly empty valley before raising his dagger menacingly and following behind the King. The King’s Hornhoov kept trying to turn back—it could obviously smell Morte—but Dinah’s father simply yanked the reins and dug his spiked heels in.
“Go, you blasted creature! Find her!” Together they galloped off into the darkness, the light from his torch dimming to a dull candle in the darkness.
“Go…,” hissed the voice, and then Dinah heard the sound of a body dropping down from the tree above. “Who are—”
“No time!” snapped the voice, distinctly male, somehow familiar. “Yeh go! I’ll lead them south. Quickly, for they will surely come back here.” He was as invisible as she was, a hulking dark shape in the trees. Dinah flung the bag around her body and climbed onto Morte’s back, strapping the sword across her shoulders. She leaned forward and pressed herself against his black skin, becoming invisible once more. Black on black, a shadow at midnight.
“Quietly now,” she whispered to her giant steed. Morte seemed to understand as they silently headed east, his hooves gently kissing the earth. They moved far away from the tiny cottage and the roaming Cards, deeper and deeper into the black night, until the sounds of her father’s army were no more. They walked quietly for hours, and Dinah noted that the flat floor of the forest was now increasingly sloping upward, harder and rockier. Hornhoov and rider moved silently through the trees, until Dinah spotted a small rock outcropping perched upon a narrow ridge overlooking the forest. Strategically, it would be a great place to watch for the approaching Cards, and besides, the trembles in her legs reminded her that they should go no farther. Without a word, she slipped off of Morte and collapsed against the rocks, exhausted from her ride and from the all-encompassing fear. Morte knelt behind the rocks next to her and fell quickly into slumber, leaving her alone with the starless night sky.
Comforted by the fact that she didn’t think her father’s army could sneak up on them in the dark—or find them in the dark, for that matter—Dinah let her eyelids flicker closed once, twice, and then she surrendered to her voracious exhaustion. She dreamed of a deck of cards on a glass table, being played by a black glove. The hand was detached from an arm, and tiny flecks of crimson dripped across the faces on the cards as they were revealed. Hearts. Spades. Diamonds. The King. The King. The King. Again and again.
Her eyes wrenched open again in the early dawn and she woke drenched in a feverish sweat, unsure of what had awakened her so suddenly. Then she heard the click of a boot in front of her and felt a cold steel blade pressed firmly against her neck. Trembling, she raised her eyes, her black braid brushing the tip of her sword. A Spade stood before her, his massive frame blocking the sun.
“Morning, Princess.”
Chapter Four
Dinah curled backwards, knocking her spine against an overhanging rock. Picking up a handful of loose dirt, she flung it at the Spade’s face and felt the ground for her sword. The Spade gave an annoyed cough.
“You won’t be finding that now, yer Majesty.” The Spade raised his other hand, which held Wardley’s sword. He had two swords and she had none. “Yeh know, it’s not very princess-like to throw dirt.”
Dinah paused a second before she began slowly inching herself toward the Spade, hoping to scramble over the rock to where Morte lay snoring on the ridge above. Why is he still sleeping? Curse that lazy beast! The blade slid harmlessly over her throat as the Spade pushed against it.
“Don’t be calling that monster of yours. I just want to talk to yeh, that’s all.” Her heart galloped wildly in her chest and Dinah glanced frantically around for the rest of the King’s cavalry.
“Where are the others?”
“Ah, them. I left them behind.” The Spade stepped forward into the light and Dinah gave a loud gasp.
“YOU!” She recognized the Spade instantly—his dark gold eyes, his grizzly gray hair, the tiny black heart tattooed under his right eye—but mostly because of the shallow two-inch scar that ran down his left cheek. “I know you.”
The Spade smiled and drew his sword lightly across the mark. “Yes, yeh know me. You gave me this, you may remember, one day in the palace when I dared to steal a silly wooden toy from yeh.”
“It wasn’t my toy. It was for my brother.”
The Spade grimaced. “He won’t be needing that much now, will he? Wings might have helped more.”
Dinah let out an angry scream before she feigned left, twisting past the sword, and managed to grab the Spade’s black breastplate. He roughly shoved her backward with one hand. She tumbled in the dirt. He was so strong. She flung a rock at him, which bounced off of his armored chest.
“Do not speak of my brother, you filth! Where is the King? If I’m going to die, don’t waste my time with silly banter. Kill me now and deny my father the pleasure.” She paused. “Please, I beg of you. Please. It can’t be him.”
The Spade peered at Dinah with fascination. “Just as spirited as I remember yeh. Now sit down and shut yer yappy mouth and listen to what I say. My arm is weary from holding this sword and I want to put it down, but I’ll need yeh to promise that you won’t try to run, otherwise I might have to give you a matching scar.”
Dinah sat back, her legs collapsing underneath her. She closed her eyes. This is it, isn’t it? This man will deliver me straight to my father, straight to my father’s Heartsword or the Black Towers. Dinah was sure that the rest of the Cards were nestled at the bottom of the valley, just waiting for them. The Spade wiped his face with his sleeve and tossed Wardley’s sword into a nearby bush. He then dropped his sword down to waist level, his keen eyes never leaving Dinah’s face.
“Well, Princess, shall I begin?” He stroked his goatee, peppered black and gray. “Yer father’s Cards won’t be coming along, not if we’re careful. We can’t wander about like fools, which is what you’ve been doing all this time. I’m not here for him, for the King of Hearts. I’m here for my own interests, and yours.”
Dinah narrowed her eyes. “What?”
“I’m here to aid yeh. You can’t make it very much longer, not without my help. Yer father will find yeh, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but he will. And when he does….” The Spade pursed his thin lips together and drew his finger across his neck. “Well, yeh know what happens. Your father is a king entirely without honor.” His eyes focused sadly upon the wood behind her.
Dinah stared at him,
not understanding what he was saying. He wants to help me? She followed his eyes to the side, giving the impression that she was considering his speech before bolting off to the right. She almost made it past the edge of the boulder and opened her mouth to yell for Morte but the Spade caught her around the waist and flung her roughly to the ground. Dinah’s healing fingers vibrated with pain, and the Spade reached forward and boxed her on her right temple, which left Dinah’s head spinning. Blood seeped into her ear.
“I told yeh, just LISTEN. Oh, fer gods’ sakes….” The Spade picked her up and easily propped her back underneath the rock overhang. “We’ll try again. My name is Sir Gorrann, or Sir Gorr if you must. I’ve been a Spade in the Cards service for thirty or so years, and I am here to help yeh, if you will just settle down and start behaving more like a princess and less like a wild bear, damn yeh.” Dinah was having trouble breathing and the world spun around as her hearing slowly returned. She was unsure of what was happening. Once more she tried to run, but Sir Gorrann delivered a swift punch to her stomach that left her moaning and gasping for breath on the ground. He gave a loud sigh.
“It makes me unhappy to treat yeh so, but until you stop trying to run and listen, it’ll just be beatin’ after beatin’.” He settled down next to Dinah on a tree stump and pulled off his black gloves, flexing his hands. She laid her forehead against the ground, her hands and body curled protectively over her stomach.
“I can’t… I can’t… breathe.”
“Aye, you’ve never been hit before, have yeh? More reason that you need protection, help to survive. I can teach you many things, Princess. How to survive, how to cover a track, how to fight.”
“I know how to fight,” wheezed Dinah before she spat her blood onto the ground.
“No, yeh don’t. That handsome stable boy might have taught yeh a few things, but fighting wasn’t one of them. Neither was being quiet. Yeh’ve been leading the King right to yeh, tromping around the woods on that devil of yers….”
“Wardley?” At his mention, everything in the world seemed to stop. “What do you know about Wardley? Is he alive?”
“Ah, now yeh want to talk.” The Spade dusted off his black tunic, adorned with a glossy black Spade symbol. “Tell you what, Princess—I’ll make yeh a deal. Yeh stop trying to run, stop trying to fight me, and make sure that horse of yers doesn’t impale me on one of his bone spikes and I’ll tell yeh everything yeh want to know about Wonderland and what’s happened since yer… departure.”
Dinah blinked in the rising sun, her eyes trained on the Spade’s face. “I remember you. You left the gate open. You could have shut it, but you waited. I saw you. You paused….”
The Spade gave a quick nod. “That I did. Now, yeh charge me again and I’ll knock yeh senseless and yeh’ll get no answers about yer stable boy, yer guardian, or yer sister.”
Dinah grimaced, pushed up with her elbows, the taste of mud in her mouth. “You mistake me, sir. I have no sister. I would rejoice to hear of Vittiore’s death.”
The Spade let out a gruff laugh, like a stone scraping over the ground. “That’s the angry princess I remember! Now, be a good girl and call yer, uh, horse around. We best be on the move. If we stay here, the King’s Cards will be on us in less than an hour.”
“How do you…?”
The Spade gave a low whistle and a reddish brown mare approached on gently trotting feet. Dinah frowned. Morte would definitely not come if she whistled.
“Answer me this, traitor; why are you not with the King?”
The Spade gave a snicker as he mounted the mare. “Let’s just say that I have my own interest in helping yeh. But that’s not for yeh to worry about yet. Now, before I’ll answer any questions, I need yeh to straddle that black thundercloud and ride, unless yeh feel like yer head would be best used as a decoration for the King’s privy.”
Dinah unsteadily climbed to her feet. “How long?”
“How long fer what?”
“How long until you answer my questions?”
The Spade gave a laugh. “I’ll make yeh a deal. I’ll answer one question each time the sun sets. Now, we really must go, otherwise the Cards will be flocking this area soon. Trust me ’bout that.” He had her just where he wanted her, she was sure of it, but what else could she do? She could no more stop breathing than turn away from knowing Wardley’s fate.
“How is it that you know what they are doing if you aren’t with them?”
The Spade had already begun riding into the trees, which were looking ever more whimsical on this side of the Twisted Wood. “I know because I’m the King’s best tracker, or at least I used to be. Yeh’ve led us right to yeh, and I’m not the only one he’s using. They are tracking yeh even now, and after yer close call last night, I’m sure yeh know what that means. They will rush in like water, surrounding yeh from all sides. The darkness won’t hide yeh again, not with the trees thinning out the farther east we go.”
Dinah wiped her face on the heavy black dress. “That was you. You told us to hide.”
“Aye. And if I hadn’t, yeh would be headless right now, since yeh were determined to fight an entire army for one single moment of revenge against yer father. I hope I can teach yeh to think about the consequences of yer actions, to control that fury.”
“My father murdered my brother.”
“Not the first, I imagine, to be wronged at the hands of the King, vengeful bastard that he is, but that’s a discussion for another time. We must move, otherwise I will be forced to knock yeh unconscious and throw yeh on the back on my horse and leave yer black steed here. I won’t enjoy it, but it will surely be the easiest thing I do today. And, just for assurance that yeh won’t take off with that very fast creature of yours, I’ll be keeping both yer bag and yer sword, at least until I see fit to return them to yeh.”
Dinah felt rage rise within her. “Who are you to order me around? No one, a dirty Spade! I’ve survived alone without you just fine.”
The Spade turned his horse around and narrowed his eyes at Dinah. “Survived? Survived? What do yeh plan on doing once yer food runs out? Or when yeh need to venture away from the stream? Yeh weren’t hard to find because yeh followed the water, and the Cards caught up with yeh without much trial. I wasn’t fooled by that false trail to the Ninth Sea, but they were, so I let them dawdle around there for a few days. That steed of yers is fast, but they will catch yeh eventually, chasing until he is worn down or abandons yeh. Make no mistake, the Cards will run yeh off yer feet.” He stroked his beard. “Maybe the King will mount yer heads together. Yeh were a blade’s width away from being killed last night. Tell me, Princess, what is yer plan?”
He caught Dinah off-guard and she lowered her eyes as a warm shame rushed up her face. The Spade made a soft click with his tongue and the horse trotted up next to her. Her face bruised and dusted with dirt and clutching her stomach, Dinah tried her best to stand up straight to face the Spade. Her black eyes held his gold ones, sunken in his once-handsome face.
“My plan, my plan is that I’m waiting…,” she started.
“Waiting for who?” He peered at her. “Who are yeh waiting for? The stable boy? The King?”
Dinah shook her head. “I don’t know, I think so….” She realized then how foolish she had been. Thick clouds of doubt swirled over her. I don’t have a plan. Oh gods, where am I even going? “I—” she clamped her mouth shut. There was nothing left to say. She had failed. She had no direction and no future, not without Wardley, and he wasn’t here. Sir Gorrann was, however, and she could either follow him (and she would have to, otherwise she would not have food or clothing) or stay here and die. It was simple. From the depths of the Twisted Wood below, she thought she heard the faint blast of a trumpet. They were still looking for her and if she stayed, they would find her. The Spade was right. There was no choice. She pushed her hair back from her face and glowered at the Spade. “Fine. Let me get Morte.”
“Oh, is that his name? He’s a ripe ferocious
animal that one. I’ve seen him in battle. Killed a dozen Yurkei right in front of me.”
“You should ride him. He loves new riders.”
The Spade chortled. “I don’t think I’ll be doing that today, Princess. It’s time to head out. I’m sure yeh’ll catch up.”
“Don’t call me Princess anymore,” she snapped quietly. “My name is Dinah.” He tipped his head in her direction as his brown steed disappeared under a clump of mossy green trees. Dinah stood still for just a second, letting the breeze rush over her. There was a new chill in the air, and she realized with a start that from the top of the rock outcropping, she could see the faintest outline of the Yurkei Mountains, once far on the horizon. The trees in the valley below groaned hungrily in the breeze and she saw several of them reach out to welcome the clean, frigid air. In the azure sky above, a red feathered hawk dove again and again into the wood, searching for food, spiraling with deadly efficiency as it sailed above the trees. Its feathers rippled like fish scales, and she watched as the flaming colors danced over its small form.
Something silver winked from the bird’s neck in the morning light. She squinted. A collar. Dinah felt her breath catch in her throat. That was a tracking hawk. It was not hunting rodents, it was hunting her. She had seen this hawk before. The Spade was right. It is time to go. Dinah threw the filthy wool cloak over her shoulders and began to climb out of the rocky nest. Morte slumbered above, his spiked hooves pressed out in front of him. Dinah cleared her throat. He did not stir. She coughed again, loudly this time. One of his black marble eyes popped opened and he watched Dinah as she began to weave her way up the forest path, following the path of the Spade. She walked for several minutes before she spotted Sir Gorrann up ahead, his horse meandering through the woods as the Spade hummed a soft tune under his breath. He gave Dinah a smile as she came up the path behind him.