First published in the US by HarperTeen in 2017

HarperTeen is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers

Published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2018

HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,

HarperCollins Publishers

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Text copyright © Colleen Oakes 2017

Jacket art © by Ruben Ireland 2018; Jacket Design by Jenna Stempel

Colleen Oakes asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of the work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008175450

Ebook Edition © 2018 ISBN: 9780008175467

Version: 2017-11-03

To all the girls with dark hearts and those who dare to love them

Epigraph

“I can’t explain myself, I’m afraid, sir.

Because I’m not myself, you see.”

—Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Epigraph

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Epilogue

Epigraph

Acknowledgments

Have you read them all?

Books by Colleen Oakes

About the Publisher

Dinah chased a white rabbit, just beyond her reach. It turned and veered under rosebushes and vertically stacked tables piled with teacups. She turned a corner. It was gone. She turned again. A wave crashed over her, only instead of being wet, it was made of fire, a fire that thundered in her heart. The rabbit was there again, taunting her. As she watched, it swung its pocket watch back and forth, hypnotizing her. The rabbit’s ears began to shrink down into its head before her. Its eyes were swallowed by its changing face, which was becoming elongated and sharp. Feathers blossomed out of its back as it turned into a white peacock. It opened its mouth to speak. Its voice was high and sweet, the disembodied voice of Faina Baker. “Keep your temper, Queen of Hearts …”

“We’re here, Your Majesty.” The gentle voice of her Yurkei guard jerked her out of sleep. Dinah’s eyes blinked open as Morte came to an uneasy stop.

It was unbelievable to her that she had fallen asleep while riding this temperamental animal, but there was something so lulling about Morte’s gait. That, and she was exhausted. They had been marching toward Wonderland Palace for many days, and sleep had not been a frequent visitor to Dinah’s bed. All her dreams of late were filled with nightmarish images. In the dawn hours just before she woke, her mind was battered with images of Wardley, the love of her life, who had fractured her heart into a thousand jagged pieces. Wardley, naked and glistening with sweat. Wardley, kissing her as red rose petals fell around them. Wardley, an old withered man, dying in her arms, his heart a hardened black shell that beat outside his body.

It wasn’t just him visiting her sleep. There was the dead farmer that she had found as she outran the Cards in the Twisted Wood, an arrow quivering in his back. There was the Heart Cards she had killed on her way out of Charles’s room, their blood chasing her down an endless palace hallway.

These nightmares made for poor sleep, and Dinah awoke each morning with a pounding head and a heavy, jaded heart. She would sit up and slowly pull on her clothing, reminding herself why she was here: because she was the rightful Queen of Wonderland and she had come to conquer her kingdom. Most mornings, the thought was enough to motivate her. Other times, she lay in bed wishing that she was anywhere but here, in a damp tent that smelled of the Spades.

After pulling on her tunic, cloaks, and boots, Dinah would sit on the edge of her bed and clutch at her chest, hoping to smother the black fury inside her. The fury whispered to her that she would never be loved and made her mouth water at the mention of blood.

She would slowly push the rage back inside and struggle to control it. Then she would put on her crown, emerge from her tent, say good morning to her Yurkei bodyguards, greet her advisers—Sir Gorrann, Cheshire, Starey Belft, and Bah-kan—and climb on her devil steed. Her army would continue making their way north.

Each calculated, queenly step was exhausting. Her waking hours were filled with both longing and hatred for Wardley. She carried the weight of her love for him on her shoulders and in her chest. As they had marched north from the Darklands, he rode behind her, his eyes never leaving her back for long. Everywhere she turned, he was there, and each time their eyes met, Dinah was flooded with fresh pain.

They hadn’t spoken since that afternoon beside the waterfall, when he had broken her heart into pieces. But it wasn’t for Wardley’s lack of trying. Every afternoon, he greeted Dinah with a tray of lunch and awkwardly attempted to explain himself to her. She brushed him off without words, leaving him in the tent with the tray of bread in his hands. He was desperate for her forgiveness, and she would not give it, not now when the sight of him made her physically sick. Dinah knew that he wished for her to know he still cared for her. What he couldn’t understand was that for Dinah, it was torturous to see him. Two nights ago, when she awoke to him sitting on the edge of her bed and staring at her, Dinah finally forced her mouth to form the words.

“Wardley.” Her voice was barely a pleading whisper, choked with a restrained sob. “Please, leave me alone. I can’t bear to be near you right now.”

Wardley reached for her hand, but Dinah turned away and buried herself under a Yurkei feather blanket.

“If you care for me, you will leave.”

Finally, when it became apparent that she would not speak with him, Wardley sighed and stood. “Please don’t cut me off from you.”

“Go!” she snapped.

“Fine. I’ll do as you ask now. But I will not leave your side once the battle begins, so don’t ask me. I don’t care what you command. Do you understand?”

Dinah finally gave a slight nod, praying that he would leave before her tears overtook her. She heard the tent flap open, and when she turned around he had vanished into the early morning darkness, leaving her alone with a shattered heart.

Days had passed since then, and the pain was as fresh as an open wound.

“It’s good to take a break, Your Majesty,” muttered Ki-ershan, one of her two Yurkei bodyguards.

Dinah blinked in the sunlight. Morte stamped impatiently. She took a minute to shake herself awake and glanced behind her. The sight was staggering. Thousands of men were spread across the plains, like an ominous shadow that passed over the land. A hundred yards behind her, her advisers rode in an unregimented clump. Behind them, a line of two thousand Yurkei warriors on their sleek steeds moved smoothly as if they were of one mind. From up here, she thought, you would never know that they were a mostly peaceful and pleasant people. From here, they looked like a dark blot of death. Dinah swallowed hard.

As they would be, for those who fought for the king.

Almost half a mile behind the Yurkei marched the weary Spades and rogue Cards, a large horde of cantankerous and brutal men clothed in black that inched slowly across the grass-blown plain. They were all fighting for Dinah, but they fought for their own reasons: the Spades because of their unequal status within the Cards, the Yurkei because of hundreds of years of violent grievances with Wonderland Palace. A vastly larger group of Yurkei soldiers led by their chief, Mundoo, marched their way to Wonderland Palace from the north. Dinah and her motley bunch were to meet them there on the day of battle.

They would crush the larger Card army from both sides—Mundoo attacking from the north side of Wonderland Palace, and Dinah’s much smaller troop coming in from the south—with the idea that two armies would be a bigger psychological as well as a strategic threat.

She hoped it would work.

It was all Cheshire’s planning.

Dinah rode Morte out front, alone. She didn’t have much use for company lately. Silently, she watched as Wardley raised his arm and the brigade came to a sudden halt. The sound of the men’s obvious relief reached Dinah’s ears. I must remember that no matter how tired I am, I am not as weary as my men. Wardley brought Corning up beside her, with Bah-kan following grumpily at his heels.

“Why did we stop?” Bah-kan bellowed. “We are almost to the villages of Wonderland proper.”

Dinah cleared her throat and looked away from Wardley. The sight of his face made her heart twist so painfully that she almost lost her breath. “Please communicate to the army that we are camping here for the night.”

Wardley’s eyes lingered pitifully on her face before he spurred Corning off to aid the Spades with setting up camp.

Bah-kan growled in Dinah’s direction. “The Yurkei won’t be happy about this.”

“Thank you for telling me,” replied Dinah coldly. “I will keep that in mind.”

He was right, of course. The Yurkei were a thousand times more physically fit than the Spades, but more important, they rode horses that never seemed to tire. The Yurkei’s wild herds were miraculous beasts, and the Spades appeared quite taken with them. The warriors from Hu-Yuhar had mistakenly assumed they would be marching straight to Wonderland with very little time to stop and camp. The vast majority of the Spades were walking, and so they rightly required more breaks. This had led to an ever-growing discontent that only inflamed the two groups’ hatred for each other. In addition to this, the long march to Wonderland Palace had taken a deep physical toll on the men. While they had expected the march to take upward of two weeks, Dinah was surprised at just how difficult it was to move her small army.

Getting the Yurkei south had been easy compared to this. Returning the Spades back to where they’d just come from was an endless litany of negotiations, disappointment, and hunger. Most of them were not completely at ease with a woman leading them and directed their questions and complaints to Starey Belft, Cheshire, or Wardley.

While she at times quietly doubted her own ability to lead, she didn’t want her men doing it. Because of this, Dinah begrudgingly made it a point to interact with the men as much as possible. She joined them for dinner, watched their sparring bouts, and attempted to engage them in casual conversation. She made sure to personally thank each one for his loyalty. Yet despite all this effort, they still looked to Cheshire for answers. Around Dinah they acted shy but respectful. There was a lot of staring.

Dinah apparently wasn’t the only one being stared at. Yur-Jee, her fierce Yurkei guard, was staring with seething hatred at a Spade soldier who was attempting to feed one of the Yurkei steeds a piece of bread. Yur-Jee’s hand clutched his bow as he gestured frantically to the Spade.

“Lu-yusa! Ilu-fre!” He stumbled for broken Wonderlander, finally finding the word. “No!”

The Spade, a husky man with a giant black beard and red-rimmed eyes, stepped back.

“What the hell is he going on about now?” he grumbled.

Yur-Jee was climbing off his horse, tight, lean muscles tensing as his feet hit the ground. The Spade reached for his ax.

“Stop! Ja-Hohy!”

Both men wisely paused at the voice of their future queen. Dinah carefully dismounted Morte, sliding down half his body as her calloused hands clutched his red leather rein.

“Idiots!” she quietly whispered to herself as she closed the space between them. When she reached the men, she calmly took the bread out of the Spade’s hand and tossed it on the ground before meeting the Spade’s eyes. She heard a familiar nicker behind her from Cyndy, Sir Gorrann’s mare. She was reassured by his quiet presence.

Altercations like this seemed to happen every other hour, and she was learning to deal with them one by one. Ruling, it turned out, was terribly tedious and made up of a dozen small decisions every day that seemed to always upset someone. She smiled kindly at the Spade, who stared at her unnervingly.

“The Yurkei only let their horses eat wild grasses, did you know that? This special diet is what we believe gives them their endurance.”

The Spade snorted. “Fancy diet, yeh say? For their horses? That’s a load of shit if I’ve ever heard it.”

He spit on the ground at Dinah’s feet. Behind her, Sir Gorrann cleared his throat to reprimand the man, but Dinah raised her hand, silencing him. She leveled the soldier with a glare.

“Should you disrespect me again, you’ll find yourself in shackles at the end of the line, trying your best to keep up with their steeds. If you choose differently—say, to make your way back to your post and take it upon yourself to educate others that they are not to feed the Yurkei steeds—then you may end this journey without raw wrists and bleeding feet.” She tilted her head, ignoring the urge to strike this man repeatedly.

The man dropped his eyes and bent to his knee. Dinah smiled. “It’s just, we’re tired, miss. The savage—” Dinah’s hand went to her sword at the word, but the man backed up. “Sorry. It’s just that the Yurkei all have horses, and we have none. I lost one toe on the march already, and I thought if I gave one some food, then maybe …”

“It would let you ride it? That the Yurkei warrior would walk?”

Dinah knew this would never happen—the Yurkei were deeply connected to their steeds—and yet she understood the inequality of being forced to walk all day most days when others rode. It wasn’t just about the horses; this was a bitterness that predated her reign by several decades.

Dinah had imagined herself leading an army of brave men with herself at the helm, arriving in glory and with great fanfare. Instead, she spent most of her time trying to make peace between the two factions that fought for her. She motioned for Yur-Jee to return to his horse and lead on. He nodded, and briefly Dinah recognized the obedience she’d fought so hard to gain. Her black eyes simmering, she bent over the Spade. Her newly short black hair brushed her chin.

“I hear your cries, but disrespecting the Yurkei will get you nowhere. I will offer you this: take care of the Yurkei steeds on the march. When we camp for the night, brush them, feed them—wild grasses only—and make sure they are checked for injuries. If you do this and do it well, once I am queen I will remove you from the Spades and put you in charge of incorporating the Yurkei’s understanding of animal husbandry into our new, united kingdom. We have much to learn from them.”

The Spade was sputtering now, tears forming in his eyes. What she had offered was unthinkable for a man who had never been allowed property, rights, or titles in any way.

“Yes, my queen.” He began kissing her hand repeatedly, his scratchy beard tickling her wrist.

“I’m not queen yet,” Dinah stated. “But let’s change that, shall we?”

The Spade walked away, and for a moment Dinah was proud of how she had comported herself.

With Cheshire’s help, Dinah was learning that it was far better to put offenders to use rather than impose harsh punishments. She would be foolish to do so, for it would mean the loss of these skilled fighters. This same strategy shaped her entire plan for the battle. The war council met nightly in a heavily guarded tent, always coming to the same impasse: the men would argue for lots of casualties, and yet Dinah repeated herself, again and again, “I will not hurt my people if I don’t have to.” Once Cheshire had reluctantly agreed, the plan moved forward.

At their most recent council meeting, Bah-kan had pushed himself up dangerously close to Dinah, his huge face bursting with veins. “How will we hold back the Cards if we cannot kill them? How are we to win when we must keep men alive? This is nonsense! You are sending us to our graves.”

Dinah’s face remained calm in the presence of his boiling anger, though she longed to strike him. “The Cards who fight for the King of Hearts will become my men once the war is over. I do not wish to inherit an empty palace with only ghosts to haunt its walls. We must make prisoners of as many as we can. We will spill blood in the first wave; that can’t be helped. May the gods have mercy on those men who face our swords first. But Bah-Kan, we also must be merciful. To win this battle—and the battle for the hearts and minds of the people—we must get to the king as quickly as possible. That is our priority.”

“The king will fight,” protested Starey Belft. “But he will don his armor and ride out with the mounted Heart Cards on the north side, to face Mundoo’s army. He is a fierce warrior but tires easily. As soon as the battle turns, he will retreat back inside the keep to wait for you there, sharpening his Heartsword.”

Dinah felt a twinge of fear mixed with something alarmingly seductive deep inside her. “By that time, our army should be pressing against the gates, or, by the grace of the gods, inside the gates.”

“We cannot assume that we will be inside.” Cheshire spoke quietly, as always, his long hands folded underneath his chin. “The majority of the king’s Cards will be on the north side to counter Mundoo’s army, but he will no doubt spare a few thousand for our army on the south end of the palace. We will have to cut our way to the gates, open them, get inside, make it through the palace grounds, and open up the gates on the north side so that Mundoo’s forces can enter. But if we cannot get inside quickly, the Cards will make a graveyard of our forces. We do not have the men or resources to lay a siege. We must win the first push, or else we will lose.”

There was a silence in the tent as each man and one queen weighed their fates.

Wardley broke the silence. “The king will unleash all his power. He’ll use innocent people in unthinkable ways. And then there is the matter of the Fergal archers …” He rubbed his lips, and for a second Dinah tasted them against her own. “The battle will descend into chaos quickly, where both sides will be taking heavy losses. Dinah’s right—we must overtake the king as quickly as possible. That is our purpose. Once that happens, Dinah can seize power quickly and the fighting will stop. When she is the sole ruler of Wonderland, the people will bend their knees and submit to her authority. They will have no choice. Remember, most of them fear the king. They’ve lost loved ones to his paranoia and rage. Most of these men are bakers, spoiled members of the court, farmers, fishmongers …”

“Or highly trained Heart Cards,” countered Dinah.

“Yes.” Bah-kan ran his fingers over his blade as if strumming an instrument. “Whoever they are, we will give them no choice. They will bow to the Queen of Hearts or they will die. Then we will execute the highest-ranking Cards to remind them of her power.”

Wardley flicked his hair out of his face, annoyed, and though Dinah’s heart gave a pang of pain, her face remained motionless. She turned to Bah-kan.

“No, we will not. All who declare their loyalty to me will be cleared of any charges and allowed to continue with their lives. It is the quickest way to get Wonderland back to a functioning kingdom. We cannot risk a divided city when winter is near. We’ll need every baker, fisherman, and Card.” Dinah raised her chin and the men around her nodded their consent. “When I am crowned queen, we will grant mercy to those who want it. Is this understood?”

“And to those who kill our men? Our warriors? Or what of those high-ranking court members who aided the king?” Bah-kan was stalking around the room, scowling at everyone who looked in his direction. “I’ve seen what Cards do to the Yurkei they capture. It is unforgivable. They have taken our lands, raped our women …”

“Spoken by a man who once called himself the greatest Card to ever live?” snapped Starey Belft. He turned to the group. “Do you mean that you’ve taken their lands and raped their women? Before you turned? Before you became one of them?” His voice rose. “How dare you speak against them when you were once a Card yourself?”

Bah-kan lunged for Belft but was blocked by Wardley, who leaped in between them. All parties fell to the ground in a fury of fists and shouts. Cheshire raised his eyebrow at Dinah from across the room. Her head throbbed as they tumbled at her feet. Fury rose into her chest; she had had enough.

“Sit down!” she thundered, rising to her feet. “Enough, all of you!” The three men stared at her with shock. “I am your queen and you will listen to my command. I order you to stop acting like spoiled children with your imagined hurts and prejudices. You are no better than the men out there in the tents, looking for any excuse to beat on each other. We are their leaders, and we must project to our men that we are one army. If you cannot control your emotions, how am I to believe that you can lead these men and warriors into battle?”

She whirled, unleashing her ferocity on the men seated around her.

“Bah-kan, control your temper, or this council will know your absence. Starey Belft, you may not insult Bah-kan or any Yurkei again, not in or outside of my presence. He has made his choice, and he has been an essential ally in our fight. Now, we will continue with our discussion in a civilized and dignified manner.”

The men sat like obedient children, and it occurred to Dinah that what all these warriors might need was a strong mother with a whipping spoon. She rubbed her forehead. “You have disappointed me tonight. You are dismissed.”

In silence, they filed out of the tent.

That night, as Dinah undressed for bed, she was filled with a surge of pride. Without a trace of fear, I just belittled the greatest collection of warriors I’ve ever seen. Perhaps there is hope that I can be the queen that Wonderland deserves. This thought followed her pleasantly into sleep, but her subconscious proved to be the enemy of rest.

In her dreams, the King of Hearts stood beside her, his massive red cape snapping around them like a cold wind as they stood on a pile of Yurkei corpses. He pointed his finger at her. “I’m waiting for you.”

Dinah cried out in her sleep, but there was no one around to hear her.

The long march north toward Wonderland Palace continued. The landscape gradually changed from the Darklands’ marshy bogs into sweeping green expanses marked occasionally by gray crags of rocks. The rocks were covered with strange etchings that only the Yurkei seemed to understand.

Today had been one of those rare days where Dinah didn’t have to speak to Wardley at all. Those were the good days, when her heart wasn’t bleeding out and her chest wasn’t constantly aching with longing.

Without meaning to, Dinah had isolated herself from the rest of her council: Sir Gorrann with his kind words and blunt advice was taxing to her nerves, Starey Belft with his grumpy mutterings made her reach for her sword. Her two Yurkei guards stayed a couple of horse lengths away from her at all times, sensing that she wasn’t in the mood for company. The only person that she could occasionally tolerate was Cheshire. He hid nothing from her and didn’t patronize. His emotionless words of war, locations, statistics, and schemes were like warm milk down her throat.

At the front of her line she sat numbly on Morte, feeling like a queen only in that she was wearing her small ruby crown. Disturbing fantasies of revenge and violence were a strange source of relief that she could indulge fully during the long hours of silent marching.

Sometimes, she imagined that Wardley would appear in the door of her tent. With his curly brown hair plastered across his forehead, his large hands would trace her cheeks. His trembling voice would confess that something had changed and that all he had ever needed was her. He would kiss her lips softly before lifting her up to meet him, and then both would be wrapped up in an ecstasy of love and passion. It didn’t happen. Deep inside her, where the core of anger was always churning now, she knew it would never be. Even if they were destructive, these images kept her awake and kept her face still and strong in front of her men. Dinah knew that no matter how she was feeling inside, she couldn’t project anything less than a statuesque strength. If she faltered, her rule would end before it began.

As the sun simmered high in the sky that afternoon, Dinah felt as though they would never be at the palace, that they would just march until they walked into the sea. With the hot sun bearing down on them, it would have been a welcome break.

She heard thundering hooves as Starey Belft rode up behind her. She closed her eyes. Please be good news, she thought. His grave face threw water on that theory.

“Another one?”

Starey nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty. A young one, marching near the back. His name was Kingsley.” The commander of the Spades paused. “He was a good lad. Had a knack for the lyre and a dirty joke.”

Oh gods, a young one. Dinah nodded. “Thank you for telling me.”

Starey placed his horse in front of Morte, who snorted angrily. “That’s the second one in two days. We need a break. We need to burn our men and tend to our bleeding feet.”

Dinah’s eyes narrowed. “I am not unaware of your sufferings. But we must meet Mundoo at the right time or this battle will be lost.”

Starey wheeled around. “If you keep marching at this pace, you won’t have an army to meet him.”

Dinah dismissed him with a wave. “I’ll take it under consideration.”

Starey turned his horse and muttered something under his breath as he moved past her. Anger ignited underneath her skin, and the black fury that was eating her from within moved her muscles without her permission. Dinah saw a flash of red, and suddenly she was swinging her leg up and around Morte’s neck, her hand reaching out to grab ahold of Starey Belft’s reins. With a wild leap, she crossed the gap between their two steeds and found herself seated behind the Spade commander, with one arm wrapped around his waist and the other holding a dagger. The sharp blade pressed into his neck.

“Do you want to say that again?” she whispered. “Say it so everyone can hear.”

Starey looked around with bewilderment. Dinah’s two Yurkei guards halted, their eyes wide with confusion.

Dinah pressed the blade harder. “Say it.”

Starey’s heart was hammering—Dinah could feel it through the back of his body. Her own heart loved the sound the fear made.

“I said …” He cleared his throat. “I said you’re just like your father, building a kingdom by the blood of our backs.”

“That’s what I thought you said.” She leaned forward, her black hair brushing his chin. “I march for you, do you know that? I march for the Spades, and for you, Starey Belft. Someday when I am queen, there will be no mutterings about me or my father.”

Her eyes met Cheshire’s, who was watching the scene with elation. It shook her out of the moment. The red faded from her eyes, and the black fury curled back into its sleeping place inside her. What the hells was she doing? Dinah dropped the dagger with surprise.

“Do not question me again,” she said weakly as she climbed off his horse.

The Spade commander stared at her for a long moment. Their eyes met and Dinah held his gaze until he looked away. Yes, that’s right, she thought. I am your master.

He coughed. “If we could have a funeral for the lads, that’d be nice. That’s all I was saying, Yer Majesty.”

“I think that’s a lovely idea.”

Dinah vaulted back up into the saddle with Morte’s help. After a moment, she raised her eyes to the sky, where a heavy rainstorm was blowing their way.

“We will stop marching for now. The men will have a break. Let’s set up camp for the night.”

“But Dinah, if we are late …” Wardley’s voice shook her inside out.

“I know the consequences,” Dinah snapped.

With a click of her tongue, she plunged away from him, letting Morte take her and her anger far away from those trying to help.

Later that evening, heavy rain from the storm blustered around them. The few Yurkei warriors who they had sent on ahead appeared as swift-moving black dots on the flat horizon. They declared that they were maybe only three days from the palace gates. My gods, three days. Dinah felt the words in the pit of her stomach, the news both invigorating and terrifying.

However, it was very welcome news to the Spades, who were beginning to look less like fearsome warriors and more like wearied travelers. The camps had seemed to be in good spirits, with laughter rising up into the afternoon sky. Dinah smiled when she heard it. Laughter these days was rare and welcome, and the sound of these grizzled men tinkled over the land like a baby’s giggle.

That evening, after the storm, the clouds broke wide open, and a flawless sky shimmered with stars. The bodies of the two fallen Spades were being laid down on a pile of wood. Clothed in a white dress and black cloak, Dinah looked over their bodies. She was surprised but not embarrassed by the tears in her eyes. She reached out a trembling hand and touched every whisker on the men’s faces before cradling their blackened, cracked heels in her hands.

Remember this, she told herself. Remember these men, and the physical cost of your reign. She let a silent tear drip down her face as she bent over them, saying empty prayers to the Wonderland gods. Her hands were placed over their still hearts, hoping to absorb their strength and take on their mission—hoping to make it through the battle they would never see.

Sir Gorrann handed her a spitting torch, and with grim determination Dinah set their bodies aflame. She stood motionless and held back tears, watching the skin of her men pull back as it slowly cooked, veins and muscle turning from living flesh into drifting flakes of ash. A large circle of black-clad Spades stood around her, all reaching forward with one hand, fully present for the last moment with their fallen comrades.

An eerie sound rose up from the other side of the camp, and Dinah clenched her teeth. It was the wails of the Yurkei.

Cheshire stepped forward and bowed his head, his purple cloak flapping behind him as he came to a stop beside her.

“They cry because they feel that we are imprisoning the souls of the Spades here in Wonderland instead of freeing them in the ground. It’s either that or that they believe we are releasing poison ash into the air. Actually, Your Majesty, it’s probably both.”

Dinah raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Ki-ershan had tried to warn her that the funerals would be a problem, but Dinah knew she had no choice; the men must be burned and the Spades must be appeased.

Her eyes lingered over the burning bodies of the men, and she jumped backward when they met the glowing eyes of Iu-Hora, the Yurkei’s doctor and the man they called the Caterpillar. His stare passed through her, seeing every thought, every dark desire. With a wicked smile, he nodded at her before disappearing into the Darklands. Dinah looked away, keeping her eyes on her fallen Spades. The Yurkei continued their loud lament, tossing insults casually across the divide.

“I’m not going to listen to this horseshit!” spat one of the Spades to her right. Dinah could feel the rising tempers of the Spades around her.

Sir Gorrann raised his arms. “Now, if everyone would just calm down. Let’s say farewell to our friends and then I’ll get yeh a drink. More than one.”

Someone started pushing forward, and Dinah found herself shoved toward the towering funeral pyre. Cheshire caught her arm and yanked her backward, saving her from a wide lick of flame. She turned, unnerved by what she saw. The barrier between the camps was lined with Spades and Yurkei facing one another, casting insults and mocking the other side.

As the flames grew higher, a sort of war hysteria was taking over the men. Starey Belft was hollering at the men at the top of his lungs, but his words were ignored. Wardley was galloping Corning up and down the line between the Spades and the Yurkei camp, daring anyone to cross the line. As gallant as he looked, he wasn’t imposing enough to stem the years of hatred that were boiling over. Dinah began violently shoving her way to the center. Sir Gorrann was beside her, his sword out, shoving Spades left and right as they tried to pass through a passionate throng that barely noticed them.

As the Yurkei’s cries of complaint rose into the sky, the Spades became unhinged, urged on by their exhaustion and grief. A few mugs of ale were lazily thrown at the Yurkei, who dodged them calmly. The Spades began spitting on the ground and cursing, blaming the Yurkei for the death of their friends.

Dread rose in Dinah’s heart as she ran forward. She had always known that her army was a simmering pot of decades-old discord and bloodlust. She had foolishly hoped that if she could just get the men to Wonderland proper, their common enemy would unite them.

“Out of the way!” she screamed, shoving aside a Spade who looked at her with disbelief. “Stand down!” She kept yelling it, but her voice was swallowed in the tide.

The Spade next to her drew his mace, and Dinah knew in that moment they would never make it to the line in time. The unrest in the air was so thick that she could almost smell it over the repulsive smell of burned bodies. After that, it all happened so quickly. Axes raised, two Spades burst out of line behind Wardley and Corning and charged toward a circle of chanting warriors. The Yurkei saw them coming and quickly nocked their arrows, aiming their points directly at the Spades’ hearts.

Dinah flung her torch to the ground and sprinted after the two Spades, her hands out in front of her. “Stop! Gods, stop! They aren’t the enemy!” she screamed, but it might as well have been the wind.

They ran forward naively, for Dinah understood what the Spades did not: that the Yurkei would win any confrontation, and when they did, it would be a massacre. Every Spade on this field would die.

The Yurkei released their arrows, which flew impossibly fast toward the Spades’ unprotected hearts. One of the Spades flung an ax into the crowd of the Yurkei. It was all going to end.

As her feet pounded the ground, Dinah heard a strange scraping sound and looked up to see the flame on the funeral pyre being sucked into the sky like a funnel.

Like the breath of an angry god, the Sky Curtain arrived.

A giant crack ricocheted through the sky, so loud that it sent Spade and Yurkei alike to their knees in fear, as if the gods themselves were breaking open the heavens. Dinah fell to the ground, but barely had time to cover her head before there was someone covering her body with his own.

She was five years old when the Sky Curtain had appeared over the Twisted Wood. All of Wonderland Palace had stopped what it was doing to watch. Members of the court and peasants alike had climbed up on their roofs to get a better view of the curtain. The streets had been flooded with people; pickpockets ran rampant. Young Dinah had climbed up on her castle balcony for a better view. She had stepped on the end of her nightgown and would have tumbled to her death if it was not for Harris scooping her up in his arms. After she was duly reprimanded, Harris put her on his wide shoulders so she could better see the curtain fluttering over the mountains. From where Dinah sat, it looked as though a giant had gathered a handful of the stars and yanked downward. Everyone living had only heard of this natural phenomenon in history books. Even as a child, it had taken her breath away. “Harris, what is it?”

“It’s a miracle from the Wonderland gods, my queen,” he said through his sniffled sobs. “Can’t you see?”

Dinah turned her head, her long, braided black hair flopping against her face. “Who is it for? Is it for me? Why does it come? How do I get it? Why is it over the Twisted Wood?”

Harris shrugged. Dinah giggled as her body flopped up and down on his shoulders.

“You have so many impatient questions, Your Majesty! You must wait for the answers to come before rattling off more questions.” He sighed. “Some say that it comes when the weather is just right, when the wind from the Western Slope meets with the wet air from the Darklands and the salty sands of the Todren.”

“But you don’t believe that?”

Harris shook his head. “I believe it’s a gift. A gift for someone who needs it. Just look at it. How could it not be seen as anything but a miracle?” They silently watched it from the palace balcony until it disappeared a few minutes later. Both were left stunned by its massive size and awe-inspiring divinity.

Harris slowly lifted Dinah off his shoulders and put her back down in her feathered bed. But she was too riled up to sit still. She bounced toward the door.

“I’m going to tell Father about the Sky Curtain!”

Harris shook his head. “He’s busy, Princess. Let’s not bother him.”

Dinah let her hand linger on the red glass handle. “He’s not busy. He doesn’t want to see me.”

Harris gathered her under his arm. “Let’s just keep our gift to ourselves, all right?” His eyes wandered down the hallway. “Unfortunately, I have a feeling your father will not see this as a good thing.” Dinah’s eyes filled with tears, but she had listened to her wise guardian.

That following winter was the worst winter that Wonderland had ever seen. Thousands of people froze to death in their houses. Gray corpses littered the street and birds fell from their nests with ice-covered chicks hidden under their wings. Crops had frozen on the vine, and hunger was as widespread as the silent panic. Pink snow covered the palace, burying the doors beneath massive drifts that blew from courtyard to courtyard. Just when it seemed the kingdom could survive no longer, warm summer winds blew down from the Western Slope, thawing the snow and ice, and leaving all of Wonderland to dig themselves out.

Harris had been wrong. The Sky Curtain hadn’t been a gift.

It was a warning.

Dinah pushed against the body on top of her, recognizing his smell immediately—a smell like cream and leaves and horse.

“Wardley, get off me!”

“No.”

She realized in that moment that she would rather die by whatever split the sky than be this close to the man she could never have. It was torture, worse than anything they could ever do to her in the Black Towers. Her voice was muffled as he pushed her head into the dirt. “Get off. It’s an order.”

He stayed still. Finally she pulled the dagger out of her boot and pressed the tip of it gently against his stomach.

“Get off.” She felt his shoulders sag in defeat.

“Dinah …”

She crawled out from underneath him and shakily got to her feet. She couldn’t see the Yurkei anymore. They were cut off from her, divided by the Sky Curtain.

She gasped. It couldn’t be. “No.” She took a step closer.

Stretching down from the stars, the midnight-blue curtain divided the line between Yurkei and Spade. It was perhaps a mile across and made of the night sky. It had swallowed the Yurkei’s arrows and the Spade’s ax. It rippled in the wind, like a thick fabric left in front of an open window. Pulled from the sky and cascading down to earth, it brushed the ground in front of Dinah’s feet. It gave the slightest tremor as Dinah came near it, as if it recognized her. She could see her reflection in its glossy surface, while at the same time staring deep into its unfathomable and ancient depths. Within its rippling body, stars blinked back at her, so close that she could touch them. A physical piece of the sky brushed the earth. It was a void, the sky and the heavens all at once, and it was draped at her feet, preventing her two armies from destroying each other.

Beside her, Cheshire was getting to his feet, his always-confident face unmasked with complete disbelief. Starey Belft’s mouth was hanging open as she approached him.

“It’s not the king!” he yelled out, before turning toward the Spades, who had obviously assumed the same. They dropped their weapons in awe. “It’s”—he paused and lowered his voice to an awed whisper—“it’s something I believed I would never see again.” As Dinah raised her eyes, her sword lowered.

“Sweet gods,” she whispered.

The men stayed where they were, rightly terrified of the phenomenon happening in front of them.

Dinah moved forward, fascinated. Somehow, she knew it had come for her.

She stood in front of it now, equally terrified by its godlike presence and seduced by its beauty. Her eyes filled with tears as she wished that Harris could be here, to see the thing that had so touched his heart years ago.

A small thistle by Dinah’s feet blew in the curtain’s soft wind. Celestial bodies spun and moved inside the shifting cloak, their depths unfathomable and ancient. There was no doubt that all of Wonderland could see it, such was its height. The king, wherever he was, was surely looking out at it. It made Dinah glad. She walked closer, taking in its incredible beauty. All sound around her was sucked out of the air, so that the only thing she heard was the slight snapping of the curtain, like a small flag tossed in a breeze.

Far off, someone was screaming, but it was as if they were underwater. “Dinah! Stop! Don’t get too close to it!”

She turned around and saw Cheshire running toward her, his purple cape flapping around him. He held his hand out, waving for her to step back. Sir Gorrann was behind him, hollering swear words at her in two different languages, looking furious, as always. The Spades all stared up at the curtain, their faces contorted with fear and amazement. She smiled. Silly men.

Her eyes followed the dirt back to Wardley, who was sitting on the ground next to Corning, his face pale as he stared at her.

“Don’t … Dinah.” He shook his head softly, but Dinah had already turned away.

She dropped her sword and stepped up to the curtain. Though she couldn’t explain it, she knew that she had nothing to fear. Reaching out a steady hand, she dipped her fingers into the curtain. They disappeared for a moment and then they were on the other side, weightless. She turned her hand, feeling everything and nothing. A circular constellation of stars whirled in front of her, just beyond her reach. Time seemed to slow. She felt Cheshire’s hand on the back of her cloak, pulling her away from the curtain. She reached up and undid the feather-shaped clasp around her neck. The cloak fell away from her body, and Dinah stepped inside.

A deep pool of ink encompassed her entire body, only the ink was weightless. As her hands trailed inside it, deep grooves appeared where her fingers had been, lighting up with tiny stars. Constellations swirled around her, and Dinah knew at once everything inside her was made of the same stuff as the stars, that she was light and life and also darkness, capable of swallowing everything around her.

Her feet tipped over her head, and she was yanked upside down, her hair falling away from her face as she swirled in the sky. She kicked a few times before pulling herself hand over hand so that she was right side up—or was she? It was hard to tell. Either way, she was climbing, higher or perhaps lower, deeper into the night sky.

As she made her way up—or down?—something started happening to the stars around her. There was another crack, and Dinah turned her head to see where it had come from, but there was only the inky blackness and the stars. One after another, the stars plummeted down past Dinah in a shower of sprightly light, each one dancing in their unique constellations. She blinked as everything around her lit up. The inky black shifted to a blinding white light. Effortless beauty tumbled all around her. Her heart felt impenetrable, as if the stars themselves were stitching her wounds closed, wounds shaped by wanting what she could not have.

She understood at once why the curtain had come; it was a warning and a gift. It was a warning of the war that would bring death to so many. The curtain was a warning to those who didn’t know that their fates would be forever altered by her fury. It was a gift in that it had bought her a few moments to get her army under control.

Not that it mattered, since she had decided to stay here in this weightless, twinkling plane. She would close her eyes, just for a minute, be free from the pain, just for now.

Something yanked hard at her stomach, and she was pulled backward out of the spinning stars, out of the thick night. Her fingers left streaks of light in the watery black. She flopped backward out of the Sky Curtain and landed hard on the rocky ground below.

“Ow!” she yelped. She tried to stand up, but there was a solid weight pressing down on her chest, so heavy she felt as though her ribs were cracking.

When she opened her eyes, she found herself staring at a dozen ivory spikes, some crusted with dried blood, others so shiny that they reflected her terrified eyes. Morte peered down at her, his massive head inches away from hers. Steam hissed angrily out of his nostrils, singeing the ends of her hair. His lips curled back, and for a moment Dinah thought he might eat her. Instead, a piece of white fabric fell from his lips, landing on her chest. She looked at the fabric. It was from her shirt. Morte had pulled her out of the Sky Curtain.

“I’m here. I’m here,” she breathed, reassuring herself and reassuring him.

Cheshire knelt beside her. “Are you all right?”

Dinah looked up at Cheshire, then Morte, who gave a huff and pulled up his massive hoof before bringing it down hard beside her head, a deadly serious reprimand. The ground beneath it cracked under his colossal weight.

Dinah sat up. “I’m fine.”

Cheshire stood up with a sigh and smoothed his purple cloak, readjusting his brooch. “She’s fine,” he muttered to himself. “She’ll be the death of me, but she’s fine.” Then, with a raised eyebrow, he turned and walked away from Dinah.

Sir Gorrann looked at Dinah with fascination. “How did you know to go inside it?”

Dinah shook her head. She couldn’t explain. “I just did. How long was I in there?”

Sir Gorrann rubbed his beard. “’Bout a minute’s time. We could all see yeh floating there, turning up and down, but it was obvious you couldn’t see us.” He tilted his head. “What was it like?”

Dinah couldn’t explain it, and when she tried, she found the words all tangled on her tongue. “It was nothing. It was … like being free.”

She was interrupted by a howl of vicious wind that ripped down from the Sky Curtain, so powerful that it almost blew Sir Gorrann off his feet. The wind ceased, and the curtain stood still for a moment before a single star at the top began falling, cartwheeling through the curtain, hitting other stars on its way down. All the stars began to fall, each one colliding with others in burst after burst of green and yellow light. Everything inside the curtain was falling into brilliant destruction, mirrors of light and swirling blackness appearing at random. Finally, the last star fell, a wispy burst of thin light dropping straight down, as if bent on hurtling itself to its doom. The star disappeared beyond the bottom of the curtain, and then the curtain vanished, as quickly as it came, flickering out like a dying flame.

Dinah looked across the grass, happy to see that the Yurkei were still there, except now they were kneeling, their foreheads pressed against the dirt. Their horses went mad around them. The Spades were either lying or kneeling on the ground. Some covered their heads in fear, some pressed their hands together in prayer, and yet others boasted giddy smiles on their faces.

Sir Gorrann looked at Dinah with amazement. “I believe you’ve just made yourself a god.”

The funeral pyre sparked to life again, gentle crackling sounds filling the air. Smoke began to rise.

“Incredible,” breathed Wardley. Dinah closed her eyes at the sound of his voice, at once a balm and a poison.

Yur-Jee and Ki-ershan burst forward from where the curtain had been and practically smothered Dinah, checking her hair and body for wounds.

“I’m all right!” she snapped, gently patting Ki-ershan’s arm. She laughed when she saw his bow and arrow drawn. “Did you try to kill it?” Then she noticed a huge pile of arrows on the ground about twenty feet away, on the other side of where the curtain had been. He had indeed. The Yurkei guard’s commitment to her life never failed to move her.

The Spades began shouting to each other about what they had just seen.

“Oh gods, just shut it already, you filthy animals! Go to yer tents and stay there!” screamed Starey Belft, reasserting his role as a fearsome Spade commander.

After a moment’s pause, the Spades silently obeyed, all anger at the Yurkei defused. The two men who had charged the Yurkei camp left their axes in the dirt and turned away, their heads hanging in shame.

After his troops were in their tents, Starey Belft walked up beside his queen. “What in the bloody hell was that? You’re quite the brave one, aren’t yeh? Should we call you the Sky Queen?”

He reached his hand down to help Dinah to her feet. It was the first time that he’d truly spoken to her as if she was an equal. She hid her smile by turning away from him.

“Just queen will be fine.”

The Spade commander grinned.

With one hand, Dinah reached up for Morte, who lifted his hoof to accommodate her. She slung herself up on his high back, feeling his massive muscles settling themselves against her body. She looked down at her men.

Sir Gorrann’s eyes tracked her movement, riveted by his emboldened leader. “What do you think it meant?”

“It was a warning.”

“A warning about what?”

Dinah sat very still. “It was a warning to us, but also about us. War is inevitable.”

Sir Gorrann looked out at the Yurkei warriors, still on their knees. The Spades had no idea how close they had come to total obliteration. “They should be warned, just as long as we can keep from killing each other.”

Later that evening, as the rest of her army slept, Dinah sharpened her sword beside a fire. A shower of sparks flew down from the blade as she struck it with a rock. Over her shoulder, she felt the creeping presence of someone watching her.

“Hello, Cheshire.”

“Hello, daughter.” Cheshire turned to Ki-ershan, standing a few feet away from Dinah, so still that he could have been mistaken for a tree in the darkness. “I need a few moments with the queen.”

Dinah nodded to Ki-ershan, who took maybe twenty steps away from them, his glowing blue eyes still visible in the dark night.

Cheshire snickered. “I’ll say one thing for the Yurkei, they are quite persistent.” He sat down, fanning out his purple cloak so that she’d have a clean and dry spot on the log beside him.

Dinah looked down at the ground while he made himself comfortable. She still wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about this man: her father, and yet not at all her father.

“We almost lost the battle today.”

“I know.” She blinked and lowered her voice. “I know.”

“The Sky Curtain must mean that the gods want us to be successful!” he crowed. Then his voice sank back to its normal slithering tone. “Or it wants to save us for destruction at the hands of the king.” He shook his head. “This is why I don’t believe in the gods.”

Dinah looked up. “I don’t think it was either of those. I don’t know what it meant, I just know how it felt.” It felt like death and life. “Either way, it’s probably the last beautiful thing we will see for a long time.”

He nodded thoughtfully before lowering his face so that it was next to hers. His voice, for once, was gentle. “I watch you, Dinah. I’ve watched you all my life. I see the dark circles under your eyes. I see the tears you wipe away when you think no one is watching. I see that you are broken.” He rested his long fingers on either side of her face. “I know that he rejected you.”

Dinah turned away, trying to keep control of her quavering voice. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Cheshire’s lips pulled back on his lean face, revealing those hungry white teeth that had so scared her as a child. His grin was wide—wide enough to swallow all of Wonderland. “Don’t lie to me, Dinah. After all this time, don’t you think I know my own daughter? I can read you like a book.” He tucked a piece of her short black hair behind her ear. “My favorite book. A book filled with so much possibility and fire.”

She looked away. She much preferred the scheming, genius Cheshire to the kind, fatherly Cheshire. It was obviously quite unnatural for him. Her patient smile faded as her fingertips brushed the tip of her sword. She stuck the tip of the blade into the fire and pulled it out. Its outer ridge glowed orange in the darkness.

“It turns out I have no part to play in Wardley’s book. His feelings for me haven’t changed. Not since we were children,” she whispered finally.

“What has changed in you is the only thing that matters,” he said firmly.

Dinah thought about that for a moment. “I’m so angry that he doesn’t love me. I’m angry at him, angry at everyone,” she whispered. “From when I wake up to the time I close my eyes, it’s like a poison underneath my skin. When I see him, I see—” She stopped.

Cheshire leaned over her. “What? What do you see?”

Dinah raised her eyes to his face. “I see rivers of blood,” she whispered. Cheshire’s face didn’t change to the disgusted look that she had been expecting. Instead, a small smile spread across his face.

“Good,” he hissed back.

“Good?” Dinah shook her head. “No, that’s insanity. Maybe I’m just as crazy as my brother.”

“You are nothing like your brother,” snapped Cheshire. “He was mad and you are brilliant.”

“But the fury …”

Cheshire pressed a long fingernail against her heart. “Take that anger, and use it. Use it for battle, use it to rule. Look how you subdued the captain of the Spades today! This anger is a gift, meant to keep you hard. Instead of suppressing it, embrace it. Let it fill your body, your mind, and your heart. It will be your best friend when none are there. Anger is righteousness, it is power, it has made kingdoms and heroes. Without anger, there is no passion, no life.”

Dinah sputtered, “But I can’t always control it.”

Cheshire raised both of his eyebrows, his midnight eyes glittering dangerously in the firelight. “Then don’t.”

“Once I’m queen …”

“Once you are queen, you can deal with Wardley however you see fit. You can marry him, you can kill him, you can make him your boudoir slave.”

Dinah made a disgusted sound, but Cheshire continued. “First, you have ten thousand Cards to get through, and a king who wants to see your head mounted outside the gates. Do you not think your anger will serve you well in battle?”

Dinah saw her sword cutting through Card after Card, heart after heart. The excitement of it made the hairs on her arms stand up. If Mundoo knew about her bloodlust … She suddenly didn’t feel like talking anymore.

“Thank you, Cheshire. I think I’ll try to get some sleep now.”

Her father stood to leave before looking down at her, his figure impassive in the waning flames. “Dinah, your heart is broken, and it will hurt and fester for years as you yearn for what you cannot have. I know the pain well. Still, you are charged with ruling a nation and uniting a people. These burdens are too heavy for anyone to carry without a fire burning inside of them. Don’t try to suppress your beautiful, unruly, angered heart. Let it empower you.”

He started to leave but hesitated and added one more thought. He raised his arms, as if scooping up the sky.

“Let it define you.”

By the next evening, Dinah’s army had reached the outer villages of Wonderland proper. She circled Morte around the settling troops as they nervously unpacked their camp. Dinah’s heart hammered quietly in her chest as she looked around. For quite some time, they had seen only the natural, magical places of Wonderland and Hu-Yuhar. Now that she could just make out the buildings on the horizon, Dinah knew there was no turning back. It had been a long time since she had seen buildings of wood, glass, and stone. They had arrived—Wonderland proper began just over the nearest crag.

The small villages of Wonderland proper held townsfolk and craftsmen, but mostly farmers. If she squinted, she could see fields of crops and dewy pink flowers, dotting the horizon like a blossoming petal stretched thin on the ground. They were lovely in their overgrown tangle.

Her army proceeded to unpack its gear around her, and Dinah began assisting her men where they would let her. What should have taken hours took minutes, and soon all the Spades and Yurkei settled quietly into their tents on opposite sides of the field. The sighs of weary men could be heard as the daylight began to wane. She ordered that the packs of food be opened, and that each man get twice his normal amount. The men would eat well tonight. This, at least, she could give them.

Dinah rode Morte up the neighboring hills, climbing to where she could see the dilapidated blades of a windmill creaking in the breeze. She took a deep, terrified breath. They were on the cusp of battle. Up ahead was Callicarpa, a small town at the bottom of a low valley, with its famous old windmill marking its farthest northern border. From the town center, plains climbed steadily upward until they encountered a sudden and violent slope down into the meadow that surrounded Wonderland Palace. She stared at the town. It was eerily still. She turned around on Morte to speak to her guards.

“I’m going down to look at Callicarpa. Something seems strange about it.”

“No!” snapped Yur-Jee, using his new favorite word. He was still warming up to Dinah. “This not task for queen.” He cleared his throat and commanded something in Yurkei.

Before long, Bah-kan rode up beside them, his damp chest hair glistening in the sunlight, his large blade clutched closely against his leg. It’s like seeing a bear ride a horse, Dinah thought. Even though astride Morte she was several feet taller than he was, Bah-kan leveled his gaze at Dinah. She felt small in comparison.

“Take twelve of your finest warriors ahead to the town. Do not harm or touch anything or anybody. We simply want to see if it will be safe to cross through. Return in less than an hour’s time. This is a scouting mission, not an attack.”

Bah-kan smiled at Dinah before he galloped down the hill to handpick his men. The Yurkei quickly mounted and soon were stampeding toward Dinah, happy to be doing something. She watched silently as the Yurkei whirled past her on their pale steeds, her short hair fluttering in their breezy wake.

“They are so … swift,” she noted with a smile. She turned to Sir Gorrann, who had ridden up beside her. “How can we train the Spades to move that quickly?”

Sir Gorrann gave a deep laugh. “Oh, my queen. Yeh make me chuckle. There is nothing yeh could do to train those men to move like the Yurkei.”

Morte gave an impatient snort and began driving his hooves deep into the ground. He shifted so violently that Dinah was almost pitched from the saddle. It was a long way down, something she knew well.

“What’s wrong with yer beast?” asked Sir Gorrann.

“He wants to go.” She climbed off him, wincing at the pain in her shoulder as she gripped the reins above.

“Does that still hurt yeh?” The Spade tilted his head, concerned.

“Not much,” she answered, rubbing the sore spot where the chief of the Yurkei had stabbed her with a shallow blade. “It’s my daily reminder of Mundoo’s long memory.”

Sir Gorrann leaned over and rested his hand lightly on her cheek. “And how is yer heart these days? Healing?”

Dinah looked up at him with suddenly blurry black eyes. “That is not your business, sir.”

She slapped Morte on his hindquarters and he happily galloped off in the same direction as the Yurkei horses.

“How do you know he’ll come back?”

“I don’t.” Dinah gave a small smile as she began picking wild herbs. She could add them to the scouting party’s stew late tonight, one more way to show the men that while she ruled over them, she served them as well. “Morte is not my steed. He is a soldier, under my command, and I am likewise under his command. We are equals.”

“And do yeh trust him in battle, Your Majesty? Have you ever seen a Hornhoov in battle?” Sir Gorrann looked down skeptically from Cyndy’s back.

“I have not. Well”—she paused—“I did see him kill a white bear.”

He dismounted and began helping her set up her tent. Dinah liked being just outside the camp, away from the group. It gave her room to breathe. Slowly, he unfurled the linen flaps that made up the entrance. “Yer father—er, sorry, I mean the king—raided some of the outlying Yurkei territories when yeh were just a babe. During those skirmishes, I saw two Hornhooves in battle. One was Morte. The other one was white and massive, even bigger than he is.”

“And?”

“They were utterly without mercy. They crushed men like insects under their hooves. Those beasts ran straight into the fold, killing without remorse, even their own men. They would stomp a man to death while impaling another on their bone spikes. I saw a Yurkei spear the white Hornhoov right through the flank, and the beast didn’t even flinch. It had arrows sticking out of its face. It just kept killing and killing, until someone attempted to sever its head from its body. The Hornhoov killed that man as well, just before its massive head fell from its body.”

Dinah could feel the blood draining from her face. “Morte wouldn’t …”

“He would. I beg of yeh, do not forget his true nature. When yeh bring him into a battle, yer releasing carnage itself. He could kill yeh, and think of how embarrassing it would be to lose yer life to yer own horse just when yer winning the war. Think about that!” He groaned. “Then Cheshire will hurry to set himself as king. Aye, and no one wants that.”

Cheshire as king? Dinah had never considered it. Either she would be queen, or she would die, and so would all those loyal to her. The thought that anything else could happen was unnerving.

“What I’m saying, Yer Majesty, is be careful with him. I do not think Morte would ever intentionally hurt yeh, but once he is in the thick of battle, he might not know what he’s doing.”

“I hear what you are saying, Sir Gorrann. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”

Together, they pitted the poles into the ground and pulled Dinah’s tent up. She watched in awe as her black Spade banners curled out on the wind, snapping in the sharp breeze. A talented painter among the Spades had amended the banners to include a red heart, broken down the middle and shifted off center. It was her sigil, same as the one painted on her breastplate. A truer symbol had never been assigned, because her heart was not whole.

Later that evening, Dinah was sitting on a log in front of the tent, looking out in the direction of the palace, when Bah-kan returned with the Yurkei scouting party. The throng of Yurkei warriors surrounded her tent with their pale horses, the men’s glowing blue eyes all trained on Dinah. Bah-kan dismounted and walked over to where she sat.

“We searched the village, and the two villages beyond it. They are empty, Your Majesty. Each house and farm has been deserted, stripped of food, weapons, and livestock. We assume that the king has pulled all the villagers inside the palace walls. All available men have most likely been called up to battle.” He paused and rubbed his stubbly face. “While this does not bode well for our numbers, it at least guarantees our safety when we march through the villages tomorrow. There is no danger to be found where there are no enemies.”

Dinah thanked the warriors before releasing them to rest for the night. She sent Sir Gorrann to sleep as well, for she needed her loyal Spade at his best when they arrived at the palace. He bowed graciously before kissing Dinah on the forehead. “Sleep well, Queen.”

Her favorite Yurkei guard, Ki-ershan, lingered behind and sat down beside her tent, pulling a piece of bread from his bag. “Ji-hoy? How to say it? Uhh … roll?” he asked. She nodded. “Roll!” His Wonderlander speech was still broken but improving.

Dinah gladly took the roll and broke it open, releasing the rush of warm honey butter inside. “I’ll miss these,” she noted as she chewed. “This might be my last taste of Yurkei bread.”

Ki-ershan seemed nervous and quieter than normal, and Dinah’s curiosity was roused. She nudged him. “Well, out with it.”

“Your Majesty … I have request of you.”

“Yes?”

“I would like to stay with you. As guard, once you are queen. It would bring me great honor to”—he stumbled over his words—“serve you. I could be a bridge between my people and Wonderland.” He gestured out from his chest and then bonded his hands together.

Dinah was touched and laid her hand upon his soft cheek. “Ki-ershan, I would be honored to have you guard me. But are you sure that you don’t want to return to Hu-Yuhar? Wonderland Palace is a very different place from your peaceful city. You would feel much less free there, and I can warn you from experience that the life of royalty can sometimes be very dull.”

Ki-ershan smiled. “It would not be … dull.” He tasted the new word on his tongue. “My wife died last year. She had the sickness in Hu-Yuhar. Iu-Hora tried to save her, but he was too late and his potions only eased her pain. She has passed into the sky; her soul rests in the valley of the cranes. Nothing is left for me there. Gye-dohur. Done. Protecting you is my life now. I could be translator for the Yurkei.”

Dinah gave him a dazzling smile, and he blushed. “That would please me very much. Thank you for honoring me with your request.” Dinah gave him a slight nod of her head, but Ki-ershan caught her chin on his finger.

“You may not bow to me. You are queen, and I will bow to you.” He awkwardly bowed before her and retreated a few feet to his tent, which was attached to Dinah’s. This was more than just mere courtesy—the Yurkei did not bow to Dinah, only to Mundoo, and so Ki-ershan had just committed his life to Dinah as his queen and leader. She found herself deeply moved.

As the night turned late, all the camp was silent. The collective breath of an army of nervous men was more deafening than any sound Dinah had ever heard. She was dressing for bed when her tent flap opened and Cheshire ducked his head through the entrance. She hastily pulled her robe shut, and he turned away awkwardly.

“Your Majesty, I’m sorry to catch you unaware.”

“I was just turning in, though I doubt sleep will come. Is something amiss?”

Cheshire pushed his way into her tent, though he was thoroughly uninvited. “Would you like to see the palace?” he whispered. His words caught Dinah off guard.

“What?”

“Come with me. Quietly.” She followed him outside, and they both climbed onto his red mare. Ki-ershan and Yur-Jee, always at the ready, shadowed on their horses. In minutes, they had reached the abandoned town. The windows stared at Dinah with their empty, dead eyes. It gave her the feeling of being watched. The horses galloped up a few vistas beyond the abandoned village before coming to the windmill that Dinah could see from her tent. With a grunt, Cheshire shoved open a rickety door to the windmill, his dagger drawn menacingly.

“You don’t need that,” hissed Dinah. “There is no one in this town.”

“You can’t be too careful,” he answered calmly.

“Wait out here,” Dinah instructed the two Yurkei. “We will be right back down.”

“I’ll go with you, my queen.” Ki-ershan dismounted his pale horse and brought up the rear, leaving Yur-Jee outside. Following closely behind Cheshire, Dinah wound up the spiral staircase that led onto the roof. The building smelled of rotting wood and the fetid stench of standing water. The giant heaving windmill blades vibrated through the walls and made a low growl as they spun around the well-worn axle. Once they reached the top, Cheshire seemed to step outside into thin air. Dinah cautiously followed, her feet finding a small ledge lined with a broken railing. She grasped Cheshire’s hand and stepped out onto the balcony. A summer wind rippled around them, and Cheshire’s plum cloak billowed out from the ledge like a banner. The ledge faced north, and for such a paltry structure, its view was made for a king.

A few villages covered the landscape, black dots on a sea of green-and-yellow grasses. Pale trails of moonlight cast long shadows on the valley, though the pebbled road quietly reflected its light. There were no signs of life in any of the villages. There was nothing to see, with the exception of Wonderland Palace, rising up in the distance, its glorious spires brushing the sky, with the ominous tips of the Black Towers looming behind them.

From there, Dinah could even see the outline of the Royal Apartments, spiraling red-and-white stones that seemed to reach into the heavens. She could just make out the tall iron wall that encircled the castle, the gates that her men would hopefully break open in a day. The palace pulsed with a warm light cast from its thousands of red stained-glass windows. From this balcony, she could even make out the largest heart window, the one that poured its light into the Great Hall. The Great Hall, where the King of Hearts gathered his generals, no doubt preparing to launch his massive defense of the palace. Where he drunkenly laughed at the idea of defeat at the hands of his weak daughter and the Yurkei chief.

“Do you think—”

She didn’t get a chance to finish her question. A shadow rose out of the barren village, moving quickly and flying toward them. She opened her mouth to yell, but it was too late. An arrow grazed her cheek and buried itself deep into the mill behind her. When she turned, she could see a red glass heart quivering in its nock.

Dinah leaped back and Ki-ershan shoved past, pushing his torso in front of her and pressing her against the wall behind him. He turned to shield her beneath his arm. Cheshire ducked just as another arrow whistled past his head. His black eyes were wide with fear as he screamed at them both. Two more arrows thunked into the wood above their heads.

“Get the queen inside! Where is that coming from? Ki-ershan? Can you see it?” Ki-ershan, still crouched like a protective animal over Dinah, raised his head.

“There!” He pointed. A small, lone figure was running away from the mill, a bow at his side. Ki-ershan screamed something in Yurkei, and Dinah saw Yur-Jee sprinting after the figure. Dinah’s voice was caught in her throat as she watched Yur-Jee quickly gaining on the shadow. Suddenly the Yurkei stopped running, took a deep breath, and raised his bow, a pale arrow nocked on the bowstring.

“Stop!” Dinah cried, but it was too late. In a flash, Yur-Jee released the arrow and it buried itself deep in the figure’s back. The small figure pitched forward into the dirt. Ki-ershan grabbed Dinah’s arm and yanked her to her feet, pulling her down the rickety stairs. Cheshire, breathing loudly, followed, a dagger clutched to his chest. They ran toward Yur-Jee, who had propped the figure up, his knife at the man’s throat. As Dinah approached, her heart sank. It wasn’t a man. It was a tall boy, no more than thirteen, pale and wild-eyed. He drew labored breaths that Dinah knew would be his last. A black stain spread rapidly on the front of his shirt. Yur-Jee stepped away and the boy crumpled to the ground.

“Don’t go near him,” Cheshire warned as they approached. “He’s an assassin.”

“He’s a boy,” snapped Dinah. She knelt beside the boy, taking him gently in her arms. He was almost the same age as Charles, but with curly red hair and a generous dotting of freckles. Flecks of blood covered his mouth, and the point of the arrow protruding from his small chest rose and fell with each breath. Dinah laid her hand over the wound and pulled the boy close. His eyes opened and shut at random as he stared at her face. He coughed up blood as he tried to speak.

“Are you the Queen of Hearts?”

Dinah nodded and touched his hair gently. “Why did you do this? Where is your family?” The boy’s eyes were fluttering now, and Dinah gave him a soft shake. “Look at me. It’s going to be all right. Why did you try to kill me?”

“The king … the king … he took my family, and he said that if I didn’t kill you, he would kill my parents.” His unfocused eyes lingered on Dinah’s face. “I’m sorry. Please don’t …” His mouth gave a final tremble, and he pulled himself up to Dinah’s ear before resting against her neck. “There is one of us in each village.” His body gave a convulsive shake and a raspy rattle passed through his mouth, his sour breath washing over Dinah’s cheek.

She looked into his eyes. “I’ll protect your family when I am queen. I promise.”

A small smile dashed across his face before his cloudy eyes stared out at nothing. His chest stopped heaving. He was gone.

Dinah slowly laid his body down on the ground and used her sleeve to wipe the blood from his mouth. He looked so much like Charles. The same eyes, the same determined mouth. This wasn’t an accident. Images of her brother’s fractured limbs flooded her mind, of his eyes staring motionless at the stars. She thought of Lucy and Quintrell in a bloody pile, of the dark spot underneath Charles’s head, of the crown he made that she would never wear.

Without a word, she stood up and began walking back to camp.

“Your Majesty …,” Cheshire called after her.

“Bury him!” she barked in reply.

Cheshire followed her. “He tried to kill you.”

Dinah whirled on him. “Only because the king threatened his family! He was innocent, and we buried an arrow in his back.” Her shoulders shuddered. “We shot a child.”

Cheshire was insistent.

“Yur-Jee could not tell that he was a child. He saw an assassin, one who almost put an arrow through your neck. It is the essence of war, painted in shades of gray that no philosopher could sort out. He tried to kill the queen. We could not let that stand. What if he got away? Made it back to the palace? What if he had been spying on us the entire time?”

Dinah nodded. “I understand your point, Cheshire, but you need to hear mine. I’ll not have my army killing children, whatever the circumstances. In the future, anyone who does will answer to me. You and Yur-Jee will bury the child. With your hands.”

Cheshire’s eyes darkened. “Watch your tone, daughter, lest you forget who you fight. In two days, we will march on the palace, and there will be no mercy for any of us. Remind yourself why you lead this army and steel your dark heart. There is more blood ahead than you could imagine.”

Cheshire turned, but Dinah grabbed his arm. “My dark heart beats just fine,” she snapped before letting go. “And it’s big enough to sustain my rage and my mercy.”

Cheshire stared at her for a long moment before dropping his head. “If you say so. If it is your wish, I will help bury the child.”

Dinah held his gaze. “Good.”

She was left alone, huddled in the dark, as the men worked nearby to bury the ginger-haired boy. Her hands and neck were covered with slick blood that she frantically tried to wipe on the dried grass at her feet. It wouldn’t come off. Dinah raised her hands to the moonlight, illuminating her wet palms. A queen’s hands, she told herself.

Hands trembling, she pushed herself to her feet and raised her weary head. I am the queen, she told herself over and over again until she felt it thrumming through her body, hoping it would stiffen her resolve. Behind her, she could hear the sounds of earth showering down onto the boy’s body, the child resting forever in the cool ground. She stared in the direction of the palace. Her tears dried on her cheeks. She let Cheshire’s advice wash over her.

She would let the fury define her, not the mercy. It was too painful.

“I am coming for you,” she whispered to the night air, to the King of Hearts, a man who made a habit of killing children. She rested her hand on her sword as she let her rage writhe through her veins. There were no stars that night, for even they trembled at what lay before them.

Dawn came early on the morning of battle, marked by a light rain that gently peppered the ground. The weather seemed to agree that this forlorn day had finally arrived. The rain fell lightly on her tent, making a lulling sound. Dinah lay still and concentrated on not opening her eyes. She knew that once she opened them, it would begin. By nightfall, her fate would be determined—either she would sit proud and triumphant upon the Heart throne, or she would be buried in the wet Wonderland earth, forever scorned as a traitor to her people.

Every day since she had left the palace, Dinah opened her eyes with the expectation that she might die. Still, today was different. Today death was not an unknown figure whispering between the trees. Today she would challenge death to a duel, a game in which the odds lay against her in spades. A hysterical laughter bubbled out of her, a mad laugh that made her sound just like Charles. In Spades. Her calloused hands trembled under her thin blanket.

It was the image of his broken body that finally forced open her black eyes, awash in tears. She stared at the roof of the tent, listening to the sounds of her army outside. Finally, Dinah rose slowly and washed her face in a basin of ice-cold water. A tray of hearty food had been left out for her—by Wardley, probably. Her stomach was knotted so tightly that it hurt to breathe. She forced herself to shove down a few eggs and a crust of bread. It would have to do.

For a few moments, she sat silently on the edge of her cot, staring through a small hole in her tent at the naked plains of Wonderland, dotted with black Spades and painted Yurkei horses.

“I am the queen,” she whispered to herself. She tried repeating the phrase over and over again, but her words faltered, tangled up inside her throat, caught in a knot of fear. She was staring at herself in the looking glass when Sir Gorrann poked his head through the tent flap.

“It’s time, Yer Majesty.”

Dinah looked up at the Spade, brave and powerful in his shining black armor.

“Dinah?”

“I’m afraid,” she whispered.

He knelt before her, his armor clanking against the ground as he took her hands in his and laid his forehead against her palm. “Everyone is afraid before a battle. No one speaks of the fear, though. Yeh cannot give it a name, for when yeh do, it becomes real. The Spades, Cheshire, the Yurkei, Mundoo, all those Cards that line the iron gates, all the people inside the palace grounds, and even the king himself—each one woke up today with the fear, deep inside of here.” He gently laid his hand over Dinah’s heart. “Even so, yeh will lead us into battle today, as a symbol of change. Yeh stand before Wonderland’s gates today as the rightful queen, an heir to yer mother’s line. And lastly, yeh stand before the King of Hearts today as a symbol of vengeance and justice, for the murder of yer brother, for Faina Baker, for my family, for the thousands of Yurkei, and for the innocent people of Wonderland he has murdered or imprisoned. We all must stand eventually, even if our knees shake.”

Dinah bent forward and kissed him on the forehead. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”

He left her alone, but just seconds later her tent flap opened once again, this time revealing a couple of Yurkei warriors who had come to dress her. Dinah stood with her arms outstretched as the Yurkei silently applied white stripes of paint to her arms and legs before wrapping them in a fine cloth dipped in Iu-Hora’s medicine to ward off infections. Over that, she was dressed in a simple white tunic and black wool pants before her armor was fastened around her. First came the breastplate, bright white with a broken red heart painted across it. It hit her at the hip, its edge sharp with tiny red hearts. The Yurkei gingerly lifted her legs as she stepped into her heart-covered, black leather leg guards that rose up the thigh. Red leather straps were added to protect her hips and shoulders. When they finished draping her body with the heavy armor, the warriors left the tent abruptly, without warning. She flexed her legs. The armor was heavy, but she was able to move fairly smoothly.

She heard quiet, purposeful steps, and Dinah looked up as Cheshire walked into the tent carrying her cape. He carefully draped it on her and then gently latched it at her neck. The white crane feathers, each appearing as if they had been dipped in blood, circled her, the cape’s weight brushing the floor while at the same time stretching out behind her like wings.

Cheshire stepped back and sighed, his eyes filling with tears. “Oh, my fierce warrior. For once, I am speechless. Look at yourself.”

She turned to the mirror. Dinah’s eyes widened in surprise as she barely recognized herself. A grown woman, proud and strong, stared at her, her eyes simmering like two burning coals, her pitch-black hair falling just below her chin. Cheshire reached for her crown.

“No,” said Dinah. “I’ll do it.” Watching herself in the mirror, she lifted the thin ruby crown and pushed it down onto her head. It sat snugly, a perfect fit. She looked at herself. This woman does not need fear, she thought. She is a queen.

“I’m ready.”

“You are a terrifying vision of glory,” Cheshire noted, with a sly smile. “Let’s hope the King of Hearts thinks so.” Just before she stepped outside, Cheshire spun her to face him. “Dinah, do not forget the plan. Even if you see the king, do not pursue him. There will be a time for your justice, and Charles’s justice, but now is a time for battle. If you go galloping off after the king on the north side, everything will descend into chaos …”

Dinah nodded. “I won’t. I’ll follow the plan.”

His dark eyes bore into hers. “The plan is perfect. All you have to do now is fight. Let that anger rise. We are all behind you.” He bowed his head. “Your army awaits.”

With a deep breath, Dinah straightened her shoulders and stepped outside the tent. She heard a collective gasp and then found herself too moved to speak. At the bottom of the hill, Spade and Yurkei stood together for the first time. They lined the walkway from her tent to Morte, who waited for her at the end of a long column of men, his reins held gently by Sir Gorrann. Wardley, devastatingly handsome in his silver armor, stepped up beside her and raised his hands to cup his mouth. The crowd fell silent.

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