Vittiore raised a flustered hand to her head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t. . . .”
Palma, the quieter of the twins, stepped forward. “What the Duchess wears is no business of yours.” She gave a silly giggle that made Dinah grind her teeth together. “It’s not like you care about the fashion of Wonderland. Your mother had much better sense than you ever will.”
Nanda, her second lady-in-waiting and the meaner twin, let out a derisive laugh. “Don’t blame the Princess—it’s not her fault. Emily has no sense how to dress people, or what a lady should wear. She’s of common birth, it’s well known.”
Dinah clenched her teeth. “Do not speak of Emily; she is a loyal servant and a more than suitable maidservant. I require more of my servants than simply dressing me like an overstuffed bird.”
Palma narrowed her eyes. “Emily is not as loyal as you think.”
“Quiet, Palma” snapped Nanda.
“Both of you, shush now. You forget your place,” Vittiore ordered quietly. “Go back to my chambers and prepare some thistle tea for the Princess and me. Now.”
Palma and Nanda gave an irritated bow and scampered off toward Vittiore’s chambers, their steps perfectly in sync. Dinah placed her hands on the hips of her striped gown, suddenly feeling very plain. “I have no desire for tea. I give you permission to enjoy it with your gossipy and useless maidservants. Goodbye.” She turned to go.
“No, wait. Just one cup.”
Dinah tilted her head and stared at her half sister, the Duchess of Wonderland. They had never been together without the King, not once since Vittiore had arrived. Dinah avoided Vittiore at all costs, and she had assumed Vittiore had done the same. They were never scheduled for the same activities, the same meals or lessons. She saw her occasionally for royal balls, croquet games, and more tedious matters of Wonderland, such as council meetings, but that was just a few times a year. During those times, Vittiore looked equally as bored as Dinah, only with a hint of fear. She had always been slight and lovely, which made the much-more-solid Dinah feel like a clumsy giant around her, even here in this cavernous hallway.
Vittiore gestured again behind her. “Please, Your Highness. Just one cup with me. I apologize for Nanda and Palma. I promise the view from my balcony is quite picturesque.”
When a blunt rejection alighted on her tongue, Dinah reluctantly bit it back. Perhaps she could glean some understanding of what Faina Baker was mumbling about from speaking with Vittiore. She obviously had secrets to hide. Faina’s ramblings were still steeped in mystery and cryptic madness; they remained a dark puzzle. She would have to be creative to decipher their meaning. “I will have one cup of tea.”
Vittiore tripped over the edges of her gown as she turned around. “Oof! These are always too long. I can lead you there.”
“I am well aware of where your apartments are,” Dinah snapped. “They were my mother’s.” They walked in silence, the heavy steps of the Heart Cards clanking behind them.
“It’s a lovely day outside, is it not? I am glad to see that spring is finally here,” whispered Vittiore.
“I prefer winter,” Dinah replied curtly. “I relish the frozen air blowing in from the Todren.”
Vittiore’s curls gave a slight shudder as she pushed open the door to her apartments. The stone hallway opened up into a bright, beautiful room. Vittiore’s windows faced the Western Slope, which eventually reached the sea. Several small towns inside Wonderland proper could be seen from her window. Dinah quietly marveled at how different Vittiore’s room was from hers. Dinah’s apartment was filled from floor to ceiling with bookshelves. It was large and decorated with ancient treasures—globes and tiny ship models, but it would never be called lovely. It was designed for a man, for the heir her father once dreamed he would have.
Vittiore’s room was the very definition of lovely. It was airy and light, very different from when Dinah had seen it last, when everything was dark and draped with black fabric, a sign of mourning for her mother. Now, gossamer pastel fabrics draped the walls, moving slightly in the breeze. Every piece of furniture was painted a pale blue, and her upholstery was a swirl of bright, pretty colors. A white peacock strutted proudly across the room, pecking at Dinah’s feet. Vittiore scooped him up.
“This is Gryphon.” She petted the bird’s head. He gave a happy shiver. “My tea room is over here, by the window.”
Her rose tea table was tiny, Dinah noted. She barely had enough room to sit across from Vittiore without their elbows touching. She must always have tea alone, she thought, thankful that her own tea table was large enough to fit Harris and Emily alongside her. Palma and Nanda hovered over the table, watching Dinah’s every move with their meticulously shaped eyebrows and brightly painted faces.