“I have no desire to leave,” replied Dinah. “This is my home, my kingdom, my palace. I need to stay here.”
Vittiore looked around the room anxiously. Dinah turned her head. There was no one here—what was she looking at? Dinah turned her head back and was startled to find Vittiore inches from her face. She pulled Dinah close. Their lips were almost touching, and she could feel Vittiore’s flowery breath against her mouth.
“You should leave. Just go, as soon as you can,” whispered Vittiore with breathless urgency. “There are things you could never understand happening here. I don’t understand them either, but I hear the whispers.”
“I understand you want my crown,” hissed Dinah. “Isn’t that what this is?”
A look of pure confusion crossed Vittiore’s face. “What?”
Both girls jumped back from each other as a loud crack came from outside the doorway. It burst open and the King of Hearts strode in, a furious look upon his flushed face. He was followed by six Heart Cards, Nanda, and Palma.
“Dinah!” he thundered. “What are you doing in Vittiore’s chambers?”
“We were just having tea,” Dinah stammered, suddenly feeling very small.
“Are you not supposed to be at your lessons right now?”
Dinah stood shakily. Her legs gave a tremble, as they always did in the presence of her father. Be strong, she told herself. You will be queen soon.
“I finished my lessons early. I visited Charles this morning. Apparently Vittiore has been visiting Charles as well. May I ask the last time you saw your son?”
Her father moved across the room with alarming speed, his huge hand gripping Dinah’s arm. He turned his hand roughly, and Dinah’s skin burned beneath it.
“Insolent child! Don’t presume to have the right to lecture me on how to deal with my family. I’ll see your mad brother when Wonderland has a peaceful, perfect day, with no need of a ruler.”
Dinah twisted her arm from his grasp and spun to face him. “Soon you’ll have much more time on your hands, when I take the throne beside you. I’ll see to it that your afternoons are much more leisurely.”
Before the king brought his closed hand across her face, Dinah saw a glimmer of pride in her father’s eyes. She was fiercer than he realized. But it was only for a moment, and then she was sprawled on the ground, the left side of her face throbbing.
“Father, stop!” cried Vittiore, her blue eyes wide with shock. The King of Hearts gave her a murderous look.
“Darling, please go back to tea. Nanda and Palma will help you. Dinah, get up and go back to your apartments. Do not come here again. You can have no purpose here, besides distracting Vittiore from her studies. It is so like you to serve as a stumbling block for all good things.” The king curled his fingers and two Heart Cards approached. He motioned to Dinah, and they yanked her roughly to her feet. “Take them both away.”
Nanda and Palma escorted the shaking Vittiore into her dressing room, cooing gently in her ear. The king pointed to Dinah, who had pushed off the guards and was standing shakily on her own feet.
“I’m sure the princess has much to do before her coronation. Please see to it that she is placed in Harris’s care, and remind him that he is tasked with keeping her in line.” That was a threat, Dinah noted, not a request. The king bent over so he could peer into Dinah’s black eyes. “I would hate for something to happen to Harris if he wasn’t doing a good job of properly raising the future queen. Perhaps one of my own men would be better suited for the task.”
Dinah’s mouth gave a quiver. “No. No, I will stay away from Vittiore, as I always have. I have no desire to be in the presence of a bastard.”
Dinah expected to feel the king’s hand across her face again, but instead he gave a wicked chuckle. “Your fire impresses me, child. Always has. Stay in your part of the castle. Prepare for the coronation. I will see you on Execution Day.”
The king spun around, his red cloak circling behind him—a garish bright spot in Vittiore’s soft room. Dinah composed herself and took a last gaze outside Vittiore’s windows as the Cards marched her to the doors. The sun was settling now, and the Wonderland sky was a ribbon of bright oranges, their lines stretching out onto the horizon. Bright-pink garden roses had begun to bloom on her balcony trellis, and outside, the last bits of pink snow sparkled in the waning light. Together, they turned the world into a blazing mix of fire and light.
Dinah sighed as a Heart Card motioned to the door. I’m no closer to the truth than I ever was before, she thought, but at least I know without a doubt that Vittiore is connected to Faina. On the ceiling above, painted silver stars sparkled in the dimming light. It’s so peaceful in here, she thought. A lovely bed for such a pretty liar.
Pink snow was just a memory a month later, when Dinah stood on the muddy ground awaiting the start of the executions. Execution Day came twice a year to Wonderland. The courtyard was filled with thousands of townspeople and members of the court. Cards strolled up and down the aisles, their swords a not-so-subtle reminder to keep the peace. Two lines of Spades clad in their black uniforms put distance between the royals and the common folk. Red heart banners blossomed out from the platform, snapping in the warm spring breeze.
Execution Day used to be one of her favorite holidays—but that was before she was old enough to understand it. The rules of Wonderland decreed that a child couldn’t witness an Execution Day until he or she was ten years old. Until then, it was just a lavish day filled with gifts and celebrations—a reprieve from her constant lessons. Dinah and Wardley would sneak away from the kitchen with a plate of warm tarts, sticky jam on their fingers, sugar on their noses, and gorge themselves until they were sick. When she turned ten and her father ordered her to go to the executions, Dinah was in shock for days. She had lost her mother that year, and seeing death so vivid and real had left her with many sleepless nights and bouts of hysterical crying. There were no more tarts, no more tracing patterns in the sugar on Wardley’s cheek.
The more executions she witnessed, the harder her heart had become. Now, she didn’t even flinch as the heads dropped neatly from their shoulders onto the white porcelain slab, a fact she was oddly proud of. A queen should have a strong stomach for justice, she reasoned. Dinah stood perfectly still now beside Harris, her face free of emotion as her terrible father made his way up to the platform. A silence fell over the noisy crowd as the entire kingdom bowed before its king, who was donning his impregnable armor, making him look like a bear, a force to be reckoned with. A black heart etched across his huge silver breastplate stood out proudly on his chest, his heavy gold crown shining in the afternoon light.
The king climbed the stairs, but not before his eyes met Dinah’s. There was a strange exchange between them—he shot her a satisfied smile and Dinah, confused and unable to control her mouth, gave half a smile back. What just happened, she worried. She couldn’t remember her father smiling at her—ever. He lumbered up the stairs, his iron footsteps echoing across the courtyard.
Heart Cards clustered in a messy line at the front of the stage, their swords clutched tightly against their chests. Her father began his customary speech, declaring the guilt of the prisoners and the great honor they bestowed upon Wonderland by allowing the kingdom to take their heads, thus clearing out the evil that lurked in Wonderland’s