His touch was like fire on her skin, and she felt her pulse, along with every inch of her, raise to meet his fingers. Her breathing labored as he gently stroked her cheek. She looked up at him expectantly and when their eyes met, Wardley blushed and looked away. He leaped back from her as if she was dangerous, clumsily drawing his sword.
“Then you should tell your father how you feel. Today! I command it.”
It took a moment for Dinah to breathe again, but she did, grabbing a broom handle leaning against the stable door and shaking off her black cloak. She took a fighting stance and swung her broomstick at Wardley. He parried and moved to the side.
“I will! I’ll tell him, ‘Father! You are getting slow and mean in your old age. You are no longer the warrior you once were. Give me my kingdom already, you beast! Then I will defeat the Yurkei, once and for all!’”
Their swords rang together, wood on steel, through the stables and out into the yard. It was a complicated and perfected dance, one they had done thousands of times before. Wardley spun and easily deflected her downswing as Dinah caught him lightly on the hip with the side of the broom handle.
“Ow! That was hard!” He laughed.
He was distracted momentarily, and Dinah swung hard for his head. Wardley ducked and easily lopped off the top of her broom handle with his sword.
“You always go for the head. Always with these ill-planned swings,” he lectured. “It leaves you open. Wait for the right opportunity, and then go for the strike. Don’t go for it the minute you have any opening. You’re too impulsive. Xavier has been working with me on identifying my weaknesses, and that, my friend, is yours. It will be the last thing you do in a battle.”
Dinah smiled and brushed a string of black hair out of her eyes. “I’ll never be in battle. Croquet is the closest I’ll come to that, I imagine.”
“A queen should know how to defend herself,” Wardley answered, picking up the broom piece from the stable floor. “Even if all you do is listen to complaints and grow fat eating warm tarts on your throne. The King of Hearts is a seasoned warrior. He might not be a great father, but I know him as a commander. He is every bit the unyielding man Wonderlanders say he is. You shouldn’t be so hard on him. You should hope to be like him in that matter.”
“I’m hard on him?” Dinah flung her broken stick away. “I’m hard on him? He looks at me only with disgust and contempt. He treats Harris awfully, and gods know what women he has up in the mistresses’ chamber every night … .”
Wardley pushed his sword into the dirt and grabbed Dinah’s arm. It gave a passionate tremor under his calloused skin. “Dinah, be quiet.” He gave her a gentle shake. “You could be put in the Black Towers for saying such things. I know you haven’t had the best time without your mother, but this obvious hatred for your father could get you or, even worse, me killed.” He gave her a naughty grin, followed by a wink.
The thought stopped the argument rising in Dinah’s throat. She would never do anything to hurt Wardley. Never. Wardley had been her constant companion and playmate ever since she could toddle around the castle on chubby legs. When they were younger, Harris and Emily left her frequently with Wardley’s mother, a lady of the court, and the two children would scamper off chasing birds and pudgy hedgehogs that roamed the palace grounds. Wardley taught her how to wield a sword, how to ride Speckle, how to pee outside, and how to eat a tart without her hands. To a child, Wonderland Palace was truly full of marvel, and exploring its secrets together had brought Dinah more joy than any other part of her childhood. Wardley was hers and hers alone, something her father could never take from her. Not that it mattered much. The King of Hearts doted on Wardley and encouraged his fine abilities. He tolerated their friendship and almost encouraged it by his lack of anger toward Dinah when Wardley was around. If only she could be near him always …
Dinah turned that last wish in her heart as she scowled at him. “I’m leaving,” she snapped. “I don’t need to be told what to do by a boy with sugar powder all over his face.”
Wardley grinned. “Dinah, c’mon …”
“NO.”
She pulled her cloak over her pale-gray dress lined with red hearts and tucked her long black braid back into the hood. “That’s the last tart you will ever get from me. Who are you to lecture the Princess of Wonderland? No one, a lowly stable boy.”
Wardley pushed his hair back from his forehead and gave her a knowing smile. “All right, but I’ll still be hungry tomorrow.”
“Good-bye.”
“Dinah, wait!”
Her heart throbbed in her chest as she turned back to him. He leaned against the side of Corning, his face close to hers, whispering, “You can’t say anything like that about your father again, unless we are outside the palace or in our box in the Heart Chapel, do you understand? I’m serious.”
Dinah saw a rare glimpse of fear in his chocolate-brown eyes. She gave a sigh. “I won’t. I won’t say anything to get you in trouble, I promise.”
“Good.” Wardley gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze. “I enjoy having my head.” He pulled Corning over by his red reins and mounted up. “Will you come see me again tomorrow, after training?”
“Perhaps. If I have time. I probably won’t. Tomorrow is the Royal Croquet Game.”
“Ah yes, your favorite day of the year.”
Dinah grimaced. She hated the Royal Croquet Game. “Perhaps I can find a way to hit Vittiore with my mallet.”
“Go easy on her. I think your father scares her. She seems terrified all the time.”
“He should scare her. She’s a bastard child, unworthy of a minute of his time. I hope she dies of wheezing fever.”
Wardley looked off into the distance, focused on something Dinah couldn’t see. “You don’t mean that. So, you’ll visit me tomorrow, maybe after croquet? Or I’ll see you at the game.”
Of course, of course, her heart sang, I will see you every day! She gave a shrug.
“Good. Before I forget, I have something for Charles. Can you give this to him?” He handed Dinah a tiny wooden seahorse. He had whittled it himself; there was truly nothing Wardley couldn’t master.
She turned it over in her hand, admiring his craftsmanship. “He’ll love it.”
Wardley wheeled Corning around and out into the winter air. “See you tomorrow!” he declared. She smiled and waved as he joined the ranks of Heart Cards, marching in silent formation toward the courtyard, their steps echoing in harsh, single notes. Xavier Juflee patted him hard on the back as they galloped to the front of the line.
Dinah tiptoed out of the stable area, back into the circular labyrinth. As she rounded the endless curves and switchbacks of stalls, she allowed a smile to play across her face. One year ago, in the bright Wonderland sun, Wardley had given Dinah her first kiss, a light brush of his lips over her top one. They had been under the Julla Tree, a massive red skeleton with silky mulberry leaves and buzzing black fruit that opened and closed every hour. As children, they had climbed the Julla Tree hundreds of times, to play Tribes and Cards or to spy on the ladies’ bathing quarters. Now, they escaped to the leafy shelter to have a minute of stillness with each other—Wardley from his endless training, and Dinah from her lessons and, sometimes, her father.
It had been summer then, and Dinah was sixteen years old. The lunch trumpets had sounded from the Royal Apartments, and Dinah had reluctantly dropped the fruit she had been snacking on and slipped down the tree. Her ankle twisted at the bottom, and she fell, cutting her leg open on the tree’s thorny roots—fat