Heartless(97)

“Me? I can hardly stand up to my own mother!”

“You stood up to the Jabberwock.”

Cath bit back her protests. She had been delirious and frantic. She had not felt brave or fierce, and she could remember the rush of relief she’d felt when the monster had run from her, rather than fight.

“Then there’s the Vorpal Sword,” Jest continued before she could form her thoughts. “It’s been passed through the Chessian royal family, generation after generation. I don’t know how it came to be in my hat, or how you managed to pull it out. Supposedly…” He trailed off, his shoulders falling again. “Supposedly, only one with royal blood can wield it.”

Cath shook her head. No. No. That wasn’t her future. That wasn’t her fate. She wouldn’t allow it.

“I am not a queen,” she whispered, willing it to be true. “And I never will be. It’s impossible.”

Jest’s eyes softened. “The White Queen once told me that there were days when she believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”

Catherine’s brow tensed. “But … that’s what I said.”

“I know.” He licked his lips. “I knew it the moment I met you, Catherine. The moment I saw you, even. You are the one we came to find—no matter how you try to fight it.”

She opened her mouth to refute again, to insist that she had no desire to wear the crown, that she would find a way to refuse the King—but she hesitated, as another thought trickled through her denials.

Her chest suddenly squeezed, forcing the air from her lungs.

“You’ve been trying to steal my heart.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw and he looked away.

Mouth suddenly dry, Cath placed a hand to her collarbone, feeling the steady thumping beneath her skin. “Is that … has it all been for that? The tea party, the letters, what you said at the festival … all of it, no more than an attempt to steal my heart so you could take it back to your queen?”

“The easiest way to steal something,” Jest murmured, “is for it to be given willingly.”

She realized it was true. He would already have her heart if he had only asked for it. She would have been too willing to give it to him.

Instead, he was telling her the truth.

She sucked in a trembling breath. “Why haven’t you taken it then? Surely you know … I’m sure you’ve realized…” Her words caught, the confession strangling her. She loved him. Or, she had loved him. She wanted to love him still, though now she wasn’t sure if it had all been riddles and tricks.

Jest sounded miserable, and was still unwilling to look at her, when he said, “You are not yet the queen, and I was sent to take the heart of a queen.”

Tears misted her eyes. “That’s why you’ve been pushing me to marry the King, and all the while…” She sniffed and launched herself to her feet, glad there was no residual pain left from her ankle. She felt off balance, though, the bare toes of her foot pressing into the soft ground. She spun to face Jest, though she could see only the top of his head, his black hair hanging over his brow, his shoulders slumped and defeated. “How dare you? You made me believe you wanted a courtship. You pretended that you would choose to stay in Hearts, for me. My heart is not a game piece, to be played and discarded at will!”

He lifted his head at this, his golden eyes full of distress. “You’re right. It isn’t. But I have lived my life knowing that someday I would die in service to my queen, and everyone I’ve ever cared for would die, and it would mean nothing. Our sacrifices mean nothing, because it never ends and it never will end. I believed—” He dragged a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “I believed this was the only way to end the war. I still believe that.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “I am sorry, then, Sir Joker or Rook or whatever you are. Your mission has failed. I will never be the Queen of Hearts.”

His expression twisted. With agony. With hope. “I cannot tell you how much I want that to be true.”

She frowned. “Why? Because you want to fail?”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you.” He opened his hands, palms held toward her, pleading. “Don’t you understand? My role has been compromised since that first night in the gardens. I don’t want you to marry the King. And even if I could still somehow claim your heart, even after telling you how cruel and unfair I’ve treated you, I wouldn’t be able to give it to the White Queen. Catherine, I don’t want your heart to belong to anyone but me.” He groaned and fell back onto the grass, covering his face with both hands. “It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Hatta and Raven saw what was happening even before I did. They tried to warn me, told me to protect my own heart, but it’s too late now and I’ve ruined everything, and somehow, if it means saving you, I’m not even sure if I care.”

She clenched her jaw, trying to hold on to her anger, her resentment. She took a step closer so she could stare down at him, scowling. “How do I know you aren’t only saying these things now as part of another attempt to gain my trust?”

He chuckled, but there was no joy in it. His hands fell to his sides. He looked almost vulnerable lying beneath her. Her nerves tingled with the absurd and unwarranted fantasy of curling up beside him, tucking her body along his side, staying there forever.