“Not to worry, Your Highness; we’ll find it,” Lucy promised, before she returned to sorting buttons.
Charles was still singing when Dinah walked out of the atrium, her heart compressing with each step as the song, so lovely and mad, followed her down the marble hallways as she walked back to her chambers.
Lying in front of her door was an elaborately folded invitation—her summons to the Royal Croquet Game. It had already been opened, the seal of the King broken. With a sigh, she untied the seven pink ribbons that held the card in place. Something was leaking through the envelope—ink? Dinah pulled the card out and tilted the elaborate calligraphy into the light.
Your presence for the Royal Croquet Game is requested. The Princess will play in the final game, her opponents, the Duchess and the King of Hearts.
Dinah felt the air whoosh out of her lungs. She had never played against her father before, ever. She was always set against a lady of the court—someone she could easily beat, and the King was always paired with Xavier Juflee, The Knave of Hearts.
The black liquid dripped again, this time landing on her shoe. Dinah turned the envelope upside down with a shake. The head of a white mouse, severed at the neck, fell out of the envelope and bounced on the floor. Dinah leapt back with a shriek. Shaking, she turned the invitation over, but there was nothing on it. Kneeling, she touched the mouse head with the end of a trembling finger. A new feeling shot through her, and she felt wide awake as she stared at the tiny lips of the mouse, pulled back in a macabre smile. Dinah was both fascinated and afraid, devastated that there was even more reason to dread tomorrow.
Chapter Five
Dinah spooned plum pudding over her flat fig biscuits as Harris hopped back and forth in front of her, wine dashing out from his large goblet. “You are going to be late, late, late for the Royal Croquet Game. We cannot be late, Your Highness.” Harris shuffled around the table, his long checkered robe flapping after him.
“I would rather get run over by Hornhooves than play croquet with Vittiore today,” grumbled Dinah, draining a glass of juice. The mouse head still weighed heavily on her mind, and she couldn’t shake the image of it bouncing across the stone floor.
“That may be the case, Princess, but you still must go. It is the precursor to All Tea’s Day, and it is expected of the royal family to not only be in attendance, but to play after all the townspeople have finished their games. This tradition goes back hundreds and hundreds of years. . . .”
Dinah gave a groan and interrupted Harris’s rambling. “Starting with the Seventh King of Hearts, Doylan the Great, the Royal Croquet Game has established the game’s rules and etiquette. It has made the Royal Family of Hearts synonymous with croquet, forever entwined in its grand traditions and all it stands for,” Dinah said and smiled coyly. “You give me the same speech every year. I remember. Contrary to what you believe, I listen to you. Now, may I please read in peace?”
One of her largest history texts, The Great Crane, sat open in front of her, a large silver book with worn pages. It was a rare book, and a fascinating fictional history of the Yurkei religion. Harris flung wide the doors to the courtyard, letting a swirl of pink snow into the room.
“Please close that, I’m freezing,” mumbled Dinah.
The old man ignored her. “Croquet!” he boomed. “The very name conjures a vision of Wonderland excellence, aristocracy, and grace.”
Dinah let out a sigh and gently shut her book, balancing her face on the palms of her hands.
“The Royal Croquet Game sets the tone of the next year’s fashion, manners, teas, and style. It is an opportunity for the Royal Family of Hearts to show their unity, their athletic prowess. . . .”
Dinah’s head jerked up with her laugh, a smudge of plum pudding across her upper lip. “Athletic prowess? Harris, we are hitting balls with sticks. Unity? My father HATES me, and Vittiore—”
“Is a lovely, innocent girl,” finished Harris.
Dinah shot him a nasty look, “—is a venomous wench snake,” she replied. “The very sight of her makes me ill. She may be my sister by my father’s unfaithful blood, but she is NOT my sibling. Only Charles is my true sibling. Who, may I remind you, is never invited to the Royal Croquet Game!”
Harris adjusted his spectacles. “Dinah, you know very well why Charles is never invited.”
“Because he’s an embarrassment to my father?”
“Because he cannot be controlled, and the Line of Hearts must appear strong and unbroken. The history of the Royal Croquet Game is filled with political pandering and glorious grandeur, and it’s no place for someone who is mad.”
Dinah brought her knife down through the biscuits onto the table.