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 fingers that twisted up from the ground to protect the tree. Wardley followed her and gently wiped the blood from her leg with his hand.
“Are you okay?” he’d asked, holding her leg in his large hand. Dinah gave him a brave smile, though she felt like sobbing. She didn’t want Wardley to see her cry, even though he had several times—like when Vittiore had a costume ball thrown in her honor, when Harris began teaching Vittiore in the evenings instead of Dinah, or when her father had forgotten to send her tea on All Tea’s Day.
Wardley wiped his hand on the Julla Tree’s fuzzy trunk, looked deeply into her black eyes, and kissed her. His lips were cool and soft, and his mouth tasted like lemons. Dinah leaned in, but he had pulled back, resting his hands on her flaming cheeks, his eyes filled with curiosity as he took in her face. He was trying to understand something; she could see it in his eyes. Dinah gasped, purely out of shock at the sudden heat rushing through her veins, and Wardley gave an easy shrug. “Just wanted to see what it felt like.” He swung himself back into the Julla Tree with a laugh, and Dinah walked, dazed and giddy, toward the castle.
A year had passed since then, and Dinah could still feel the touch of his lips upon hers as she wound her way out of the stables. Layers of pink snow dusted the swirling gold spires of Wonderland Palace, and the entire kingdom seemed to hold its breath with a still glow. A large group of Spade Cards was lounging near the red-glass doors that led into the palace. Dinah pulled her cloak over her head, hoping to hide her face, but her lips gave an uncertain jerk as she moved closer to them. They stood with an exaggerated ease, snickers escaping their blackened mouths.
“Your HIGH-ness.” They gave slight bows.
As she passed, she heard one of them murmuring under his breath: “The king’s daughter, disgrace to the throne. Looks nothing like her mother.”
“Recard,” whispered another.
Dinah’s heart was flapping wildly now. An uncontrollable rage started at her fingertips and worked its way into her chest. She stumbled, and the tiny wooden seahorse that Wardley had given her dropped from her hand. It rolled to a rest against the steel-tipped boot of a Spade.
“Aye, what’s this?” He bent down and picked it up, the figure minuscule against his large hand. “A toy? Aren’t yeh a bit old for toys, Princess?”
“It’s a seahorse, and it’s mine. Please give it back.” Dinah raised her eyes to meet his, hoping her trembling lip wouldn’t betray the shame she felt. “Please.”
The Spade gave Dinah a hard look. “Come and get it, Yer Highness.”
His eyes were a mottled gold, she noted with surprise. It was such a stark color against his black-on-black uniform, his long gray hair, and the black symbol of a spade tattooed underneath his right eye. The other Spades remained motionless, half-bowed, as Dinah took a timid step toward him. She started to extend her left hand for the seahorse and then thought better of it. I am the Princess of Wonderland, she told herself. Remember what Harris says. Someday I will be queen.
“No.”
The Spades jerked their heads up with curiosity.
“I am the Princess of Wonderland, and you will put it in my hand.”
The gold-eyed Spade gave a deep hoot. “Aye, indeed you are, although the other princess has the look of one. If it were up to me, pretty Lady Vittiore would be the one getting the crown.”
Rising anger burned her spine. With a swift movement, Dinah reached up and struck the Spade, hard across his face. One of her pearl rings left a thin trail of blood across his left cheek. He lunged at her, only to catch himself, his fist inches from her face. Dinah reveled in his shock.
“The Lady Vittiore is not a princess, she is only a duchess. Now, you will put the toy in my hand.”
The Spade gave her an amused smile. “No problem, Princess.” He reached out.
“No. My other hand.”
He looked down with a grimace at her other arm, tucked firmly within her cloak. She made no move to pull it out for him. The other Spades watched in shock as he tried in vain to get the seahorse into her hand without groping her, an action surely punishable by death. Dinah watched the farce silently,
