Dinah stood alone in the darkness, feeling not unlike the cranes—swallowed whole by this room, by the throne, by her father, and the palace. She longed to rule—to take the seat next to her father, and she, the Queen of Hearts, would rule over them with strength and courage—but she feared what it would take to get there. It was her right to sit on the throne. When she married, her father would not easily give up his throne to her husband. Her black eyes narrowed as she stared up at the brilliant red window, red light cast on her face. The altar seemed to pulse with crimson. When I am Queen, she told herself, all my doubts will disappear, and my father will embrace me again. He will see that I was born to be a Queen, and I will be a better Queen than he was a King.
Dinah heard the soft padding of footsteps, and something changed in the air. A soft ripple moved the banners and tapestries that draped the wall, and Dinah was suddenly filled with the dreadful sense that someone was watching her. She turned, but there was only darkness around her—an empty, holy space, and only the eyes of the gods were upon her. She gave a sniff. The air smelled strange—a heady mix of earth and brawn. Behind her, a door clicked and she heard sauntering footsteps echoing through the chapel. Wardley. She sighed with relief and reluctantly turned her back to the altar and walked the long length of the aisle until she was parallel to the door. With only the moonlight that filtered in from the red heart window, her strong hands found the wooden ladder that led up to The Box. Dinah gave a soft groan and lifted herself up onto the bottom rung. Wardley poked his face out from the top of the ladder.
“Hurry up! You are slower than a moss-eating bug.”
Dinah shot him an angry look and continued to carefully climb, splinters driving into her bare feet. Once she reached the top, she was greeted with the hint of a foul stench: waste, oil, and rotting vegetables—the smells of poverty. Whoever was supposed to clean The Box after the last event, didn’t. Standing, she brushed her fingers through her tangled hair and straightened her cloak. Wardley stood in front of her, dressed in his practice clothes—a loose white linen shirt, dark-red pants, and black riding boots. His shirt was opened across the chest, and Dinah could see the gleam of his sweaty skin in the moonlight. Her heart knocked tricky in her chest and she forced herself to look away.
Wardley gave her a quick hug. “Ugh, you smell awful.”
Dinah punched his arm. “It’s The Box. Stop it.”
“That felt like a swift breeze blowing over my skin,” he chided, smiling. Dinah felt the earth tremble. “Try again.”
He held out his arm. Dinah struck him with all her might. He winced. “Alright, that did actually hurt. Keep working on your sword arm. Someday, your father will train you to use the Heartsword.”
“Not likely, but it’s a nice sentiment.”
They sat together on a tattered wooden bench that reeked of fish.
“So, what did you need to tell me?” Wardley asked. “Did you need something? Are you in trouble? You should have just come to the stables in a few days. It’s a lot easier than sneaking around here. Have you noticed that there are Heart Cards everywhere now? It’s getting ridiculous, all the men that bear the uniform now. Your father doesn’t care anymore if they are qualified or good men; he just wants bodies in cloaks.” Wardley made a disgusted sound. The constant lowering of requirements to become a Heart Card was something that he lamented often.
“At least they’re not Spades.”
He looked over at her and saw the seriousness in her eyes. His smile faded. “Dinah, what is it?”
Dinah brought her face close to Wardley’s ear. Just being this near him made it hard to breathe, but they had much to talk about. To any observer, they would look like young lovers, whispering words of endearment. “Yesterday someone gave me a note. It was at the feast, and it was slipped into my berry loaf. It said ‘Eat Me.’”
Wardley pulled back from her, his face riddled with concern. He took her face in his hands and tilted it so that he could look clearly at her. “You didn’t eat it, did you? Dinah, that could have been poison.”
Dinah shook her head. “No, no, of course not. I didn’t eat it. But I did break it open. And this was inside.” She reluctantly pulled back from him, and removed the tiny vial from her cloak pocket. “There used to be a piece of paper inside of it. I read it, and then I ate that.”
Wardley’s eyes widened.
She continued. “On the note it said, ‘Faina Baker, The Black Towers.’ And then it had a triangle symbol.”
Wardley looked at the ceiling, considering. “Faina Baker, I’ve never heard that name before. Have you?”
Dinah shook her head. “Never. I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon, but no. I’ve never heard of her either.”
Wardley took the tiny vial out of her fingers and peered at it in the moonlight. “What do you think it means?”
Dinah wrung her hands together. “I truly don’t know, but I can’t shake the feeling that it’s something important.”
“You can’t know that, Dinah. This could be a trap. Someone plotting against the King, someone plotting against YOU. Your father has many enemies. It could be a Yurkei assassin.”