“My future Queen. You are so beautiful. It brings me such pride to see you as a woman.”
Dinah caught his hand and pulled him up, taking in his kind round face. “My dearest friend. Someday I will be Queen and you will never have to bow again. You will spend your days eating tarts and leaning on pillows while other servants see to your every need.”
Harris gave a sly smile. “Your reign will be wonderful, I’m sure, but I would hope that Your Highness could find better uses for me than lounging on pillows. Perhaps an advisory position on the council.”
“Perhaps.”
Dinah heard the brassy blare of a single trumpet, from outside her balcony. The royal family was being summoned for the game.
The Croquet Lawn was in the very center of the palace yard—a perfectly coiffed square of bright green surrounded by the impassive towers of Wonderland Palace. Looming piles of pink snow had been shoveled into giant mountains that bordered the sides of the green, and the lawn itself looked as lush as it would on a hot summer day instead of the end of winter. Sturdy wooden steps on three sides of the lawn provided ample seating for the hundreds of lords and ladies of the court. On lower wooden stands, thousands of townspeople gazed down on the players. From there they could admire, gossip, and pass judgment on everyone—a favorite pastime during the Royal Croquet Game.
Dinah waited on one side of the lawn, flanked by Harris and twelve Heart Cards that stood at the ready to assist her. The Master of the Games bowed before Dinah and then beckoned her forward. Dinah took a deep breath and murmured a silent prayer that this would be over quickly. Musicians, shoved on top of each other in an elaborately decorated box, raised their long trumpets and blasted out a three-note greeting. Dinah lifted her strong chin and walked out onto the field. There was a polite wave of clapping as she walked out to the green, her gray dress brushing the sharp blades of grass.
When she got to the middle of the lawn, she looked around with surprise. If she was to play Vittiore she should have been already waiting, in the correct order of hierarchy. Dinah felt a bolt of joy rush through her; perhaps this meant Vittiore would not be joining them! It would be Dinah and her father, playing singles. Her heart gave a weak flutter of hope. Perhaps her father would see that she was a worthy daughter, his strong heir. She would play her best, Dinah told herself, without any whining or boasting. She would be a picture-perfect vision of the future Queen.
The Master of the Games sauntered up and handed Dinah a long wooden mallet shaped like a flamingo, the official palace bird. Dinah liked the heavy weight of the mallet in her palm. These mallets were carved from trees of the Twisted Wood. Crystallized and ancient, these trees took months to chop through, and because of that, only one was able to be felled per year. Its wood was sold at the highest prices in Wonderland proper, fetching a hundredfold more than normal wood. Soldiers wanted it for their sword hilts, farmers for their plows, women for their kitchen spoons. The only part of the tree that wasn’t sold was used for the croquet mallets for the royal family.
Dinah waited now, whacking the heavy mallet impatiently against her leg until she heard the trumpets roar for the second time. Biting her lip, Dinah gave an elaborate bow in anticipation of her father. As her eyes surveyed the ground, she heard an intake of breath from the crowd. Her black eyes wandered up, expecting to see her father in all his grandeur, but instead she saw a vision of sweeping beauty. A wave of disappointment passed through her. Vittiore had floated out onto the court. Her long gown was made of several hundred layers of chiffon in creamy, shimmering shades: peach, rose, and lemon all blended together into an exquisite loveliness. Her golden hair had been curled into plump ringlets that cascaded down her back. On her head was a Mad Hatter pillbox hat adorned with white coque feathers. They were attached with a large gemstone the size and color of a peach.
Hot rage boiled up inside of her, and Dinah’s mallet dropped from her hand. It was her mother’s brooch. Dinah had loved that brooch as a child, often pretending it was an actual peach as she toddled around her mother’s bedroom. Vittiore gave Dinah a polite bow and whispered her courtesies. “Your Highness. You look lovely in gray.”
Dinah took a menacing step towards Vittiore. “Is that a joke?” she asked through clenched teeth.
Vittiore looked bewildered. “No?”
With one sure step, Dinah thought, I could plant my ruby slippers into her pretty face.