Queen of Hearts: The Crown (Queen of Hearts Saga #1)(47)
Chapter Thirteen
Dinah felt a feather on her hair.
No. Not a feather. A touch, an insect? A hand?
Dinah lurched up in her bed with a start, breathing heavily. She looked around her dark room. There was nothing, nothing but her curtains blowing in a cool breeze. She closed her eyes, willing the fear away.
Go back to sleep, she told herself. It’s nothing.
Her spine tingled with dread. She opened them again. Again, nothing—nothing but a faceless figure in a black hooded cloak standing beside her bed.
Dinah let out a terrified scream as a hand clamped violently over her mouth, black gloves cool against her lips. Her heart hammered wildly inside her chest, and she could feel all her limbs surge with strength. Dinah struggled ferociously, her hands reaching back, her nails clawing for the stranger’s face, legs flailing beneath her. Finally, she threw her body forward, dragging the person onto her own back as she lay face down on the bed.
They struggled as the stranger used most of his strength to keep his hand over Dinah’s mouth. She screamed against the open palm, her inhale sucking the black leather halfway into her mouth. The stranger’s mouth made it to her temple and a low whisper filled her ear.
“Shush now. Stop. Do not scream. Do not make a sound. Trust that I am not here to hurt you, Princess. You must trust me, you must; there is no time to explain. I could have slit your throat open five times by now, and yet, I haven’t. Nor have I stabbed you in your sleep. I am not here to harm you. Now, will you be silent?”
Dinah nodded and stopped struggling until the stranger gently lifted his hand from her mouth. Dinah bit her lip and thrust her elbow back into his face, feeling hard bone meeting flesh. The man gave a muffled roar as Dinah flung herself over the edge of her raised platform bed. She hit the ground hard, knocking the wind from her lungs. Willing herself to breathe, she frantically flailed her hands under the bed for something she knew was there, something that had been put there long ago, until finally her hands fell on a rusty hilt.
With a hard yank, Dinah emerged from under the bed with one of Wardley’s old practice swords pointed at her aggressor. Her heart was contracting so fast that Dinah feared it might explode. Her mouth opened and shut as she attempted to speak. Words came out, quickly, interspersed with gulps of air. “Who, who are you? Do not come any closer or I will kill you. Tell me now, I demand it!”
The stranger in black shook his head. The voice was muffled under the black cloth—he was obviously taking pains to disguise his cadence as well. Dinah did not recognize the voice that spoke.
“I cannot tell you that, not tonight. There will come a time when you will have every answer you seek, I promise. But now I need you to listen to me, listen to me as you never have before. It was I who sent you to Faina Baker.”
Dinah held the sword unwavering, pointed at the stranger’s chest. Black stars had started to form in her vision. She needed to breathe. The figure moved in a menacing circle around the bed.
“Don’t come any closer,” Dinah snapped. “Do not touch me again.”
“I will not, Your Highness. I have no desire to hurt you. You do not have much time.”
The figure paused, giving enough time that Dinah felt her hand tremble around the hilt.
“Forgive me for my bluntness. I wish there was another way to tell you, but it must be done. Your brother is dead. The King is planning to tell the kingdom that you killed him, killed him because you feared that he would take the crown that you have so obviously desired.”
Dinah lost all feeling in her body. She had no mind to process her thoughts, no body to control. She was numb. Only her tongue worked. “You’re lying. You’re LYING!” Her scream echoed through the empty chamber. The figure remained silent and still.
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but it is a devastating truth. It truly grieves me to tell you in such a manner. Your brother is dead, but you may live. Allow me to rephrase: Do as I say and you might live. I have brought you a bag full of everything you may need. Take it and leave the castle, leave this very minute.”
Dinah now noticed the wide burlap bag at the stranger’s feet. She could not process what was happening.
“Charles is dead? By whose hand?”
The stranger ignored her questions. “Do not tell anyone where you are going. To protect your servants, they must remain ignorant. I have rendered them both unconscious. They sleep soundly and safely in the other room.” The stranger shuffled toward Dinah. He was growing agitated. “Princess, you stand in front of me when you should be moving. You can either leave or die, those are your choices. Your father won’t wait for Execution Day to take your head.”
Dinah looked up in disbelief. “My father? My father wouldn’t hurt me or Charles.”
“Your ignorance is staggering, Princess. Your father wishes to kill you. He will not share a crown with you, with anyone.”
“Charles, my brother—”
“Is dead. By the King’s hand,” the voice replied flatly. “The Mad Hatter sings no more. You will no doubt grieve for him later, but now you must act. We are ahead of the King’s plan tonight, but not by much, perhaps an hour. My Queen, it’s time to go.”
Time seemed to stop as Dinah stood paralyzed in the darkness. The sword in her hand lowered slowly. She smelled the sweet scent of the Julla Trees blowing in through the open window and stared at Emily’s shawl draped lazily over her dresser. The Wonderland moon blazed bright through the balcony windows, outlining the stranger as if he were made of stone.