Heartless(130)

“Cath, please,” Mary Ann whispered. “I know you’re hurt—devastated, even. But you’re my best friend. You came back for me. You saved me.”

You should have died instead.

“The White Rabbit is looking for a housemaid,” Cath said. “Perhaps you can seek new employment there.”

The silence that followed was stifling.

Cath picked a ruby necklace off the vanity, one the King had sent her during their pitiful courtship. She latched it behind her neck. The jewels sat heavy on her collar.

“If that’s what you want,” Mary Ann murmured.

Cath didn’t watch her go. Didn’t turn even when the door shut behind her.

Somewhere in the castle, the people of Hearts were gathering. Music was playing. The King was wondering whether he was making a mistake, and whether it was too late to stop it.

She stared at the girl in the mirror, the one who looked as though she had never known a smile. Even as she had the thought, her reflection’s lips curled upward, revealing a delirious grin beneath her sullen eyes.

She scowled. “This had better not be your way of telling me to be happy.”

The reflection’s eyes turned yellow and developed slitted pupils. “Were you aware that this is your wedding day?” said Cheshire. The rest of his face formed, furry cheeks and long whiskers. “To look so sad seems a travesty.”

“I’m not in the mood. Go away.”

“All due respect, Your Soon-to-Be-Majesticness, you do not seem much in the mood for anything. I have never seen such an empty expression.” His face vanished, leaving the outline of fur and whiskers topped with pointed ears.

Catherine pushed away from the vanity.

Cheshire’s face reappeared. “You needn’t be so cold to Mary Ann. She’s worried about you. We all are.”

“What is there to worry about? I am going to be a queen. I’m the luckiest girl in Hearts.”

His whiskers twitched. “And won’t we be lucky to have you, miserable wretch you’ve become.”

“Mind my words, Cheshire, I will have you banished from this kingdom if you tempt me.”

“An empty threat from an empty girl.”

She rounded on him, teeth flashing. “I am not empty. I am full to the brim with murder and revenge. I am overflowing and I do not think you wish for me to overflow onto you.”

“There was a time”—Cheshire yawned—“when you overflowed with whimsy and powdered sugar. I liked that Catherine better.”

“That Catherine was a fool.” She whipped her hand toward the cat. He vanished before she could strike him. “You knew the bakery would never happen. You’ve known that I would end up either destitute or married to the stupid King, and any other hopes were meaningless.”

“Yes. That’s true.”

She spun to see Cheshire floating in front of the door.

“But hoping,” he said, “is how the impossible can be possible after all.”

With a scream, Cath grabbed a vase of white roses and launched them at Cheshire’s head.

The door opened. The cat vanished. The vase flew right between the White Rabbit’s ears and shattered in the corridor.

The Rabbit froze, his pink eyes wide as saucers. “L-Lady Pinkerton? Is everything quite all right?”

Cath straightened her spine. “I despise white roses!”

The Rabbit shrank back. “I … I do apologize. I’ll—er—have something else sent for, if you prefer—”

“Don’t bother,” she snapped, marching toward the window and thrusting her finger against a leaded pane. “And I want the gardeners to take down that tree.”

The White Rabbit approached hesitantly. “Tree?”

“The white rose tree by the arches. I want it removed immediately.”

The Rabbit’s nose twitched. “But, my lady, that tree was planted by the King’s great-great-great-grandfather. It is an extremely rare varietal. No, I think we had better leave it as it is.” He cleared his throat and pulled a watch from his pocket. The watch Jest had given him during the black-and-white ball. Seeing it brought blood rushing into Cath’s face. “Now then, your parents will be here soon to escort you to the ceremony, but I wanted to be sure you had everything you needed before—”

“Mr. Rabbit.”

He looked up and ducked at her glare.

“That tree is to be gone by nightfall. If it is not, then I will find an ax and cut it down myself, and your head will be soon to follow. Do you understand?”

His gloved hands began to shake around the watch. “Er—y-yes. Certainly. The tree. Quite an eyesore, I’ve oft said so myself…”

“In fact,” she continued, scanning the gardens below, “I want all white roses to be removed before springtime. From now on, the gardeners are to plant only red roses, if they must grow roses at all.”

“Of course, my quee—my lady. Red roses. Excellent choice. Your taste is immaculate, I daresay.”

“Exuberantly glad you agree,” she deadpanned, brushing past him. She paused at the vanity and Raven hopped off the mirror and came to settle again on her shoulder before she swept into the corridor.

She paused.

Her parents were there, standing over the shattered glass vase and drooping roses, waiting to escort their daughter to her wedding ceremony. Their faces held on to wobbly smiles.