Blood of Wonderland (Queen of Hearts Saga #2)(47)

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.”