Blood of Wonderland (Queen of Hearts Saga #2)(38)
She was truly alone. The ground before her was flat and made of stone—a circular platform carved from the mountain that dropped into air on each side. Small etchings had been carved into the ground, tiny little marks that told an ancient story of sacrifice and redemption. They were the religious markings of the Yurkei tribe. She ran her fingers lightly over them. Harris would have loved to see this. He found the Yurkei religion fascinating. Dinah lifted her eyes and looked out past the edge of the stone circle. She could see the entire Yurkei valley if she stood on one side; the floating white tents attached to the side of the mountain, each of them emitting a dim glow. The great stone birds stood erect and silent with Mundoo’s tent suspended between them. The flowing creek behind the tents gurgled contentedly. It was a quiet night in Hu-Yuhar, and the only noises came from the herds of wild horses playing below, their happy whinnies soothing to her ears.
Dinah let her eyes wander to the northernmost part of the valley, and they rested upon the subtly lit orchard where Cheshire had waited for her, his long hands clasping a teacup. He was still there, no doubt biding his time before he could crush everything she knew into a fine powder, like the sugar that dusted his brooch. Cheshire, her father? Dinah pressed her hands against the unyielding stone. Could this be true? And if it was? Should she be grateful that her own father did not try to kill her but rather saved her life? Or should she be furious that her entire life was a well-orchestrated lie? The truth had been kept from her, not only by Cheshire but by her own mother, the only person who truly loved her. Her mother, Davianna, who had loved Cheshire and betrayed the king. Dinah imagined her mother’s soft hands wrapped around Cheshire’s neck as they danced in the Great Hall, those same hands that had always caressed Dinah’s face so lovingly. . . . Dinah shook her head to clear the image. Was this just another of Cheshire’s games? It was possible, but there was an unmistakable thrumming in her heart that told her it was not.
Part of her wished that she had slit his throat before he could speak. Or did she? Dinah didn’t know what she wanted. Her emotions whirled, a churning storm inside her. Was she to become a grateful, doting daughter? The warrior he had been training her to become? An exiled princess, a Yurkei prisoner? Was she full of rage like the man she believed to be her father, or full of grace like Charles, her half brother? If she was not the daughter of the King of Hearts but the daughter of Cheshire, a traitor—what was she now? Who was she now?
“Who would you have me be?” she angrily called to the stars, tonight all circling around one singular bright star that lingered lazily over the mountains. Her voice rose to a strained yell, choked with emotion. “I said, who would you have me be?”
“I think yeh know,” answered a familiar voice.
Dinah didn’t bother to turn around. “How did you find me?” she sniffed.
He gave a gruff laugh. “I’m a tracker, remember? It wasn’t exactly hard—there was nowhere else for yeh to go but up. Yer in a damn valley.” She lowered her eyes, refusing to look at him. “You best not go any farther though, lest Mundoo think you are trying to escape.”
She spun around to face him. “You work for Cheshire. You betrayed me. You lied to me.”
Sir Gorrann walked up beside her, and Dinah heard the crunch of his heavy boots echoing over the cavernous drop. “I never lied to yeh. Yeh never really asked about Cheshire. Did he hire me to find yeh? Indeed. And did I? Yes. I saved yer life, girl, and I would save it again. When Cheshire came to me, he dangled a promise: if I was to find yeh, I would get to see for myself that the king was brought to justice, hopefully by yer hand. Not only that, but I would see him stripped of all power and pride. That is what I long for—for him to suffer as I have suffered. Only his wayward daughter could give it to me.”
He paused and scratched at his beard as he stared at Dinah, framed by the bright stars. “Though it pains me to tell yeh . . . truth be told, after a while, things changed. Dinah, I’ve grown a bit fond of yeh, and I’ll fight beside yeh, whatever yeh decide.” He looked gently into her eyes, his face etched with the love of a father.
“Yeh remind me of my Ioney, if she had been given the chance to live. Yer fierce and strong, full of rash emotion. Hear me that my loyalty is to yeh, and yeh alone. If yeh ask me to kill him”—he gestured his head toward the orchard below, to Cheshire—“I will. Though, keep in mind, he might get me first. Cheshire is already four steps ahead of wherever you think you are. Listen to me, girl: don’t ever underestimate that man. And don’t blindly trust him either.”
Sir Gorrann paused before shivering once. “If we’re going to be chattin’ awhile, I’m building a fire. It’s cold as a proper lady’s bed up here.”
Dinah pulled her knees into her chest and shivered as she stared at the whitewashed valley that stretched out toward the east. “That man—you mean my father?” Sir Gorrann did not reply but instead made quick work building a small fire against the night chill from a dried bird’s nest. His skill was enviable, and soon warm flames crackled and hissed as they sat together in silence.
Finally, Dinah spoke, her voice breaking with emotional exhaustion. “What does he want me to do?”
Sir Gorrann shifted on the ground and withdrew a pipe. “Isn’t it obvious? He wants yeh to take what’s yers. Yer mother’s throne at Wonderland Palace. He wants yeh to rule.”