The Wonder (Queen of Hearts Saga #2)(52)
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. But be wary that your gratitude turns 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. A smile crept across her face, and 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, but 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 head. “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, surprisingly much more advanced than ours.” She let her fingers softly trace the scar before stepping away.
Wardley nodded as he mopped at the back of his neck. “As I healed in the infirmary, I heard rumors of my fate. The King wanted my head, but had been dissuaded by his council.” Wardley pronounced the word sharply, making it clear that he meant Cheshire. “I was stripped of all my titles and duties. I was still technically a member of the Heart Cards, but I was no longer the future Knave of Hearts. Xavier Juflee dismissed me from being his apprentice.” Dinah winced. Wardley practically worshipped Xavier. “The King ordered me into service before I was completely healed. All I did after that was labor in the stables, forced to rebuild each wooden gate by hand with inadequate tools. It was my punishment.” He puffed up his chest and gave her a sad smile. “I have a new title, I’ll have you know: Wardley the Weak, the Card who was bested by a princess. A title fit for a king, don’t you think? Most days I was unable to work in the stables because of my wound, so I would just lie in the hay, dreaming of an escape from the pain.”
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. “And then…?”
“After a while Cheshire found me. He told me bits of 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, and like a sister to me. 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. Combine that with the King growing madder every day and it was an easy sell. 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, for 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 two weeks’ time and lost more than twenty men. We only have a few horses. The things I’ve heard from these men, you wouldn’t believe….”