Heartless(111)

Jest tipped his hat, letting the bells tinkle around his face. “Everyone always underestimates the idiot.”

Hatta waved his hand at them. “Come in, come in. Haigha, stop mucking with those buttons and put on a pot of tea.”

“That won’t be necessary. This isn’t to be a long visit.” Jest tugged Catherine around the table, like he was afraid to release her.

Hatta’s eyes lingered on their entwined hands a beat longer than Cath thought necessary. “What’s your hurry? If the rumors are true, the only place you have to be right now is His Majesty’s prison.” He squinted. “Speaking of His Majesty, does he know that you’re about with his lady fair?”

Jest pulled out a chair for Catherine. She felt too anxious to sit, but she did anyway.

“The King proposed marriage to Catherine tonight,” he said, claiming the chair between her and Hatta—what would once have been the performer’s chair.

Hatta’s eyes swept toward her and he lifted a teacup from a saucer, like a toast. The rim was stained with long-ago drips of tea, and she wondered how long it had been sitting there untouched. “Congratulations must be in order, Your Queenliness.”

She scowled. “Are you congratulating me or yourself? I know you wanted to see me become the Queen as much as anyone, though I now understand you didn’t exactly have my best interests in mind.”

There was a moment of silence, the cup hanging in the air. Then Hatta guffawed and slammed the cup back to the table. It was empty.

“If you know that, then you know I was not alone in the plot.” He swung his leg off the arm of the chair and leaned toward them. “She is a rose, Jest. Lovely on the eyes, yes, but such thorns are not to be ignored. She belongs in a King’s garden, not yours.” As an afterthought, he tipped his head toward Catherine. “No offense meant, milady.”

“None at all?” she deadpanned.

He shrugged, a flippant one-shouldered shrug that made her blood run hot.

“I love her, Hatta,” said Jest. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with her, but I did.”

She squeezed his hand beneath the table.

Hatta slid his gaze back to Catherine. She returned it, though she felt as insignificant before him as she had the first time they’d met. There was little cruelty in his expression, though. More like a mild curiosity. Like he was trying to determine what it was Jest saw when he looked at her. “That is a problem, isn’t it?”

“I love him too, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

He shook his head. “Oh no, that much is plain to see.” He ran a finger along his lower lip. “I suspect you didn’t come here to allow me the privilege of sharing in your mutual happiness.”

Jest removed his hat and tossed it amid the table’s mess. “Cath is not going to marry the King and we are not going to steal her heart.”

“I thought that might be where this was heading.” Hatta cut a quick glance at the March Hare, who was watching them like a fascinating match of lawn tennis. “Prepare yourself, Haigha. It will not be any fun informing the White King that our dear Jest has failed.”

“I have not failed.” Jest cocked his head toward Raven. “Raven has reminded me of the law of promotion.”

Hatta’s eyes widened, almost imperceptibly. “Queening,” he murmured. His gaze swooped to Cath, studying her with new intensity. “Why steal a queen’s heart when you can steal the queen herself?”

“She isn’t a queen yet,” said Jest. “But she could be. It solves everything, Hatta.”

Hatta sat back and shut his eyes, his brow tight. “Not everything,” he said, but it was whispered so low Cath thought he was speaking to himself. When he looked up again, he was shaking his head. “We are a parliament of idiots. A murder of fools.”

“No,” said Jest, his voice soft. “That would be an unkindness.”

“So it would.” Hatta sniffed, and glanced wryly at the March Hare again. “What say you, Haigha?”

Haigha was peering at Catherine, his nose twitching. “Are we sure she can do it?”

“That’s a legitimate question.” Hatta leaned forward. “Once we cross through the Looking Glass, you’ll no longer be the daughter of a marquess, but a lowly pawn, like Haigha and me. If you fail to defeat the Red Queen, you are accepting many lifetimes of servitude. Are you willing to risk that, Lady Pinkerton?”

“She won’t—” Jest started, but Cath interrupted him.

“I am willing to risk it. There’s nothing left for me here.”

Hatta looked at Jest. “It really would have been so much simpler to just stick to the plan.”

“This couldn’t be helped,” said Jest.

“No, I suppose it couldn’t.” Rubbing his temple, Hatta once again glanced at the March Hare. “So. Which of us is coming and which of us is going?”

Haigha’s ears folded down and he sank deeper in his chair. “I went last time,” he said, his voice warbling. “And by-the-bye, weren’t you just saying you ought to go gather more hatting supplies? I mean, it isn’t that I’m afraid or anything of that sort.” He scratched his neck, looking very afraid indeed. “Just thinking of what’s best for your business, that’s what.”