Blood of Wonderland

  “I thought I would never see you again!” sobbed Dinah.

  “I’m here now. I’m here. Shhh.”

  She raised her hands to his face, feeling his cheeks, his new beard. “It’s you. You’re safe.” Dinah was babbling now, close to hysteria. “I’m sorry, Wardley, I’m sorry, please forgive me. Forgive me for hurting you, for stabbing you.” She pressed her hand against where she knew his wound to be. “I’m so sorry!”

  Wardley’s eyed filled with tears. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who is sorry. I’m a coward. I should have left with you. I should have found you sooner. You are the rightful queen. I should have protected you.” Wardley crushed her close to his chest.

  “You did, Wardley. You saved my life.” They leaned their foreheads together, their hearts hammering loudly in the damp wind. Dinah wiped away her tears, suddenly aware of making a scene in front of throngs of armed men. “What are you doing here?” she whispered. Wardley looked down at her, his eyes the color of warm chocolate, eyes she had loved her entire life. Her heart was captivated by him, even after all this time.

  “Dinah, don’t you know? I’m here to command your army.”

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. Dinah looked out at the sea of soldiers in black, all standing motionless: warriors, murderers, and prisoners. The Spades had arrived.

  A smile crept across her face.

  With these men, she could crush the king.

  Twelve

  Sleep was of paramount importance, yet Dinah couldn’t think of anything she needed more than to feast her eyes on Wardley’s slumbering face. She watched silently, mesmerized by the way his lips parted slightly with each deep breath.

  After their joyous reunion and once they returned to camp, Dinah had seen how exhausted Wardley was. His lips were cracked and bleeding, and dark circles shadowed his eyes. He was thinner than Dinah had ever seen him, and there was a tortured ache present in his face that broke her heart. The Spades, eight hundred and seventy-two in number, had marched for a week under his leadership and arrived hungry, exhausted, and irritable. They possessed a begrudging respect for Wardley, but the Spades as a group were independent and unruly, and he held on to his command by the skin of his teeth and the ferocity of his blade. After he made sure that the men were settled into their makeshift tents, he promptly collapsed into Dinah’s open cot and fell asleep within minutes. Dinah perched on a stool nearby, her hands folded together, her sword across her lap, her black eyes drinking in every breath of him. He’s here, she thought. He came for me. I wasn’t wrong to believe he’d find me. Wave after wave of relief washed over her, a flood of penetrating joy. It wasn’t just that he was alive and unhurt—not on the surface, anyway—but that she had someone here she trusted without hesitation. Sir Gorrann was a fine companion, but Wardley had known Dinah her entire life, in the intimate way that only a childhood friend could.

  She continued to watch him sleep until her own weariness closed her eyes. She awoke to Morte’s impatient, thundering steps outside the tent. He was hungry; he was always hungry. Dinah found a live chicken and gave it to Morte, who enjoyed chasing his prey around, toying with it, before he mercilessly speared it through the middle with one of the bone shards encircling his hooves. He then settled into the dirt to feast on its still-flailing body, and Dinah returned to the tent with a distaste for breakfast. Wardley, however, awoke starving, and Dinah couldn’t feed him fast enough. She knelt by his bedside as he devoured dried bird meat, loaves of bread, and apples. Crumbs drifted down onto his long legs. His brown eyes bore into hers, overjoyed to see her, and yet filled with a terrible guilt. Wardley insisted that Dinah tell him everything, down to the last detail. She took a deep breath and recounted her story, alarmed at how dangerous everything seemed in retrospect. She started when she was awakened in her bed by a hand over her mouth and continued on through the details of Cheshire’s affair with her mother. The night on the mountain with the cranes and the shadows she kept to herself. That moment was hers alone, concealed close to her heart, next to the place where she held Wardley. He watched her with amazement as she told her tale, his face reacting boldly to each turn. When she finished, he sat quietly for a few minutes before speaking.

  “So Cheshire is your father?”

  “So it would seem.”

  “And you believe him?”

  “I don’t have to believe him. I know it to be true. Look at him, and look at me. I looked nothing like my father—” Dinah corrected herself, something she was starting to do more often. “I’m sorry, the King of Hearts. I look nothing like the king. And I believe that my mother had an affair. When I was young I heard them arguing about it. There are so many things that fell together when he told me, so many disparate pieces that fit perfectly into place. My life makes sense now, even though the whole thing is a bit alarming.”

  Wardley was quick to see through her easy cadence. “A bit alarming?” he scoffed. “That’s how you feel about Cheshire being your father?”

  Dinah walked over to the tent flap and looked through the narrow sheaf of light. Thousands of tents littered the damp ground as far as she could see. “He’s clever. He’s organized this entire war, all to put me on the throne. He saved my life and probably will again. The king never even looked me in the eye. He hated me. He murdered Charles, Wardley.”

  His voice softened. “I know. Be wary that your gratitude doesn’t turn into blind trust.”

  Dinah shook her head. “I won’t. I promise.” Cheshire was the least of her concerns. Right now there were a thousand Yurkei warriors, three hundred rogue Cards, and almost nine hundred Spades all gathered in one wet field. The Spades were the most loathed of all Cards among the Yurkei. If they all weren’t careful, the war could start and end right here.

  Wardley looked past her, casually resting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s good to see you, Dinah.”

  Dinah’s skin tingled at his touch, at being near to him. She forced herself to take a few quiet steps back into the tent.

  “Sit down. You are exhausted and in no shape to be moving around. But tell me all that’s happened in the palace since I’ve been gone.”

  “I’ll tell you later. Right now I have to get ready to meet with the war council. Do you mind if I clean up?”

  Dinah rolled her eyes. “I’ve seen you bathe a thousand times.”

  “That is true.” Wardley crouched next to a small bowl of water and pulled his shirt over his head. Dinah struggled to keep her face motionless as her eyes raked over his tan, taut skin and she watched with pleasure as he scrubbed the grime off his lean chest. As he lathered a bar of soap through his hair and scraped the dirt from under his fingernails, he repeated most of what she already knew: after she had stabbed him (way too deep! he was kind enough to remind her) he was transported to the infirmary, where the King of Hearts had found him and demanded his head. Wardley had assumed that he would die right there and then.

  “He was mad with rage, Dinah, furious and insane. You’ve seen him drunk—well, this was a thousand times worse. He began striking the midwives and the nurses, screaming, ‘Off with his head! Off with his head!’” Wardley shook his floppy hair. “I was terrified. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t fight. I could barely stay conscious, for gods’ sake. Luckily, one brave doctor convinced him that my blood on the table was price enough. No man would let himself be injured that deeply on purpose. The king stuck his fingers deep into my wound to make sure.”

  “Oh, Wardley. I’m so sorry.”

  Wardley let the wet rag linger over the jagged, ugly scar on his shoulder, four inches long and barely healed. Dinah felt tears flood her eyes as she looked at the hideous wound she had inflicted. “I’ll get you some Yurkei medicine for that. Their potions possess incredible healing powers.” She let her fingers softly trace the scar before stepping away.

  He paused. “Many times I woke up in the stables, not remembering that I had fallen asleep. The days seemed never ending, and the nights . .
.” Wardley had a faraway look in his eyes, a look that Dinah had seen before—it was a place she could never reach him. His mind was elsewhere, and for a second she saw a flicker of something pass in front of them.

  “Wardley.” At the sound of her voice, he snapped back to attention, his eyes filled with tears.

  “After a while Cheshire came to see me. He told me his plan, each week a bit more information—never enough that I could act on it alone, and never enough that I could ever accuse him of treason. He’s crafty, Dinah.”

  So am I, she thought, because he is my father.

  “Finally, the man told me what he wanted. He wanted me to lead an army of Spades south to meet you, here in the Darklands. To fight for the rightful queen, to fight for you.” He smiled. “But I did not need convincing—you are the rightful Queen of Wonderland. I wondered: How do you convince an army of Spades to fight against their fellow Cards? What would make a single Spade drop their loyalty to one crown to fight for another?”

  Dinah had no idea. Wardley leaned forward, a drop of water falling off a curly lock of brown hair. “Rights, Dinah. The Spades long for their own rights. As it turns out, I didn’t have to convince anyone. They have been waiting for this for a long time. Our departure date was set, in the middle of a long night. I stole away from the stables and came to the place that Cheshire had told me, half-convinced that this was some sort of insane game that the king was playing to test my loyalty. But there they were in the darkness, a silent army of Spades just waiting in the courtyard, with their commander, Starey Belft, at the helm. Here’s what I’ve learned, and what you should remember: the Spades’ loyalty is not to the king. It has never been to the king. It is to Starey Belft. He lives the depraved life of a Spade, and so they respect him. They would follow him into hell, and they did. We marched for a week and lost more than ten men. We only have a few horses. The things I’ve heard from these men, you wouldn’t believe. . . .”

  Sir Gorrann poked his head into the tent and looked surprised to see Wardley soaking wet and Dinah watching silently.

  She smiled. “It’s not what it looks like.”

  “I couldn’t care less. The council is waiting for yeh both.”

  Dinah gave a slight nod. “We’ll be there shortly. Thank you, Sir Gorrann.”

  He left, and Wardley eyed the door skeptically. “What about him? Do you trust him? You know he’s in Cheshire’s pocket, don’t you?”

  “Aside from you, I’m not sure there is anyone I fully trust, or ever will again. And yet I believe that Sir Gorrann has my best interests at heart. I consider him a dear, eternally grumpy friend.”

  Wardley pulled a ripped tunic over his head. He softly took Dinah’s face in his hands and her heart stopped. “You do know what you are doing, don’t you? You’re planning a war, Dinah. A war in which many people will die, perhaps even yourself. This isn’t playing swords in front of the stable. This isn’t a game.”

  Dinah pulled back from him, her face flushed. Wardley always knew how to get under her skin. “Of course I know! I’m the rightful queen. Shouldn’t I fight for my throne?”

  Wardley shook his head. “You are, but I worry for you. You’ve never seen a battle, you’ve never seen a man . . .”

  Dinah shoved him roughly backward, her anger surprising her. “What? I’ve never seen a man die? I’ve seen my brother’s body crumpled on a stone slab. I’ve seen a farmer with an arrow buried in his back just because he happened to be near my path. I killed more than a few Cards on my way out of the palace, and I see their bloody faces in my dreams. So don’t tell me that I haven’t seen death or war, or that I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve been at war with the King of Hearts since the day that I was born.”

  Wardley grabbed her hands. “I’m sorry! You’re right. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. Forgive me, my queen.”

  Dinah stared at him for a moment before nodding her head. “Everyone thinks I am just a little girl, pretending she will be queen. But I will take my father’s crown. I will.” Her skin tingled with the idea.

  Wardley sank to his knees. “You’re right. I’m sorry for my presumptions. I have missed you, Dinah, deeply.” He wrapped his arms around her legs, pressing his head against her knees. “Knowing your heart beats has given me new life and glorious purpose.”

  Dinah let her hand rest on his thick curls, her face cracking into a smile at his touch. Her hands slid down his hair, tracing his jawline, pulling his face upward so that his chin brushed the top of her thighs. “Wardley . . .”

  Before she could go any further Wardley leaped to his feet.

  “Dinah—you shoved me!” The boy she loved laughed a bit before stepping back and shaking his head, his eyes searching her furious face. “You are surely not the same girl that I kissed under the Julla Tree. You’ve grown strong!”

  “Don’t forget it,” she snapped, resentful that Wardley had riled her heart up, as he always did.

  She cleared her throat.

  “Let’s go, they are waiting for us.”

  Wardley gave her a look.

  “Don’t be mad. I’m sorry I doubted you.” He reached out and tugged playfully on her braid, and Dinah’s fierce heart melted.

  Thirteen

  The war council met in a circular black tent that sat squarely in the middle of all the other tents, a dark spot in a sea of clouds. Long onyx flags with the symbol of the Spades stitched haphazardly across their front panels snapped in the wind, blowing out from the tent pillars. Before the Spades had arrived, the war council’s conversations had taken place over fires, or in regular tents. This tent was new, large, and intimidating. It carried a message: the Spades were not to be trifled with. As Dinah walked toward the tent with Wardley, several Spades bowed before her. Dinah felt a rush of pride as their heads tipped to the ground. I will be their queen someday.

  Dinah ducked inside, Wardley behind her. A large table made of light wood filled up the room, forcing them to stand pressed against the soft black fabric of the tent. Rising up from the table stood a model of Wonderland Palace. Dinah marveled at its construction—every window, gate, and turret was present, each tiny shutter accounted for. She ran her fingers over the model of the stables, the rose garden, the Black Towers, and the iron walls that surrounded the city in a perfect circle. The hardened tips of her fingers rested on the Great Hall, and she looked up in amazement.

  “How did you get this?”

  “Allow me to answer that, Your Majesty.” Starey Belft crept out of the corner, darkness hiding half of his scarred face. Dinah recognized him by his face, which she’d seen at various palace events, but also by his commander’s brooch—it was black like all the Spades’ insignias, but a single white diamond sparkled from the middle, denoting a higher rank. His face had been badly slashed during a battle with the Yurkei, but the other half remained ruggedly handsome. He looked tired and worn, with plum bruises underneath his eyes. Starey Belft was famous for his fierce loyalty to his troops and his love for loose women. He gave Dinah a wink with his good eye.

  “You look well, Princess. You’ve lost your round baby cheeks.”

  “And you, sir.”

  “Eh, I look like I got slashed in the face with a knife.”

  There was a painful silence in the tent until Bah-kan burst out laughing. “Aye! You did!” Starey glowered at him.

  Dinah motioned for him to sit. Each member of the council took a seat around the massive wooden castle. “Again, I will ask, how did you come across such a masterpiece?”

  Starey Belft cleared his throat. “Ah, I took it, Your Majesty. When I knew we were leaving the palace and turning our loyalty to you, I broke into the king’s chambers and took his model, piece by small piece.” He demonstrated by breaking off half of the kitchens, folding it flat, and then putting it back into place.

  “It’s a puzzle!” exclaimed Dinah.

  “It made it a bit easier to transport. Still, I don’t think my Spades relished carrying it through the Dark
lands.”

  Dinah rested her hands on her lap. She didn’t want to appear too eager. “How is it, Starey Belft, that you came to be in this tent today carrying the weight of the palace on your shoulders? It must be an incredible load to bear alone.”

  “It is, my lady.” Starey took a long sip of the ale the Spades had brought with them. After all, who went to war without libations? She stared unflinchingly at him until he shrugged sheepishly. “What do you know about the life of a Spade, my lady?”

  “I know that living the life of a Spade is an honor.”

  Starey jumped to his feet, his face flushed with anger and inches from hers. Everyone in the tent held their breath until he seemed to think better of his actions and turned away. When Dinah opened her mouth to speak, Starey Belft turned and spit, spraying the ale from his mouth all over Dinah. She coughed and wiped her eyes, willing the churning rage inside her to dissipate. Sir Gorrann stepped in front of her, his sword drawn and trembling as he pointed it at his old commander, a man Dinah knew he deeply respected.

  “Yeh forget yerself, Commander! Sir, this is the future Queen of Wonderland, and yeh will respect her as such.”

  Starey Belft laughed. “Sit back down, Gorrann. I could skin you for treason, you know, you traitorous letch.”

  The men stared at each other as Dinah wiped the ale off her chest with her sleeve. Finally, Cheshire’s voice boomed out from behind the wooden Black Towers, the height of the spires amplifying his disembodied voice over the tiny palace. “Both of you sit down. There will be no fighting in this tent, no skinning of anyone. Starey, if you are here, you must respect the queen. She understands that you’ve had a very long journey and that you weren’t in your right mind when you happened to spill your ale near her feet.”

  “Spilled it out of his mouth,” mumbled Wardley.