“I’m sure the Princess has much to do before her coronation next month. Please see to it that she is placed in Harris’s care, and remind him that he is tasked with keeping her in line.” That was a threat, Dinah noted, not a request. The King bent over so he could peer into Dinah’s black eyes. “I would hate for something to happen to Harris if he wasn’t doing a good job of properly raising the future Queen. Perhaps one of my own men would be better suited for the task.”
Dinah’s mouth gave a quiver. “NO. No, I will stay away from Vittiore, as I always have. I have no desire to be in the presence of a bastard.”
Dinah expected to feel the King’s hand across her face again, but instead he gave a wicked chuckle. “Your fire impresses me, child. Always has. Stay in your part of the castle. Prepare for the coronation. I will see you on Execution Day.”
The King spun around, his red cloak circling behind him—a garish bright spot in Vittiore’s soft room. Dinah composed herself and took a last gaze outside Vittiore’s windows as the Cards marched her to the doors. The sun was settling in now, and the Wonderland sky was a ribbon of bright oranges, their lines stretching out onto the horizon. Bright-pink garden roses had begun to bloom on her balcony trellis, and outside, the last bits of pink snow sparkled in the waning light. Together, they turned the world into a blazing mix of fire and light.
Dinah sighed as a Heart Card motioned to the door. I’m no closer to the truth than I ever was before, she thought, but at least I know without a doubt that Vittiore is connected to Faina. On the ceiling above, painted silver stars sparkled in the dimming light. It’s so peaceful in here, she thought, a lovely bed for such a pretty liar.
Chapter Twelve
Pink snow was just a memory a month later, when Dinah stood on the muddy ground awaiting the start of the executions. Execution Day came twice a year to Wonderland. The courtyard was filled with thousands of townspeople and members of the court. Cards strolled up and down the aisles, their swords a subtle reminder to keep the peace. Two lines of Spades clad in their black uniforms put distance between the royals and the common folk. Red heart banners blossomed out from the platform, snapping in the warm spring breeze.
Execution Day used to be one of her favorite holidays—but that was before she was old enough to understand it. The rules of Wonderland decreed that a child couldn’t witness an Execution Day until he or she was ten years old. Until then, it was just a lavish day filled with gifts and celebrations—a reprieve from her constant lessons. Dinah and Wardley would sneak away from the kitchen with a plate of warm tarts, sticky jam on their fingers, sugar on their noses, and gorge themselves until they were sick. When she turned ten and her father ordered her to go to the executions, Dinah was in shock for days. She had lost her mother that year, and seeing death so vivid and real had left her with many sleepless nights and bouts of hysterical crying. There were no more tarts, no more tracing patterns in the sugar on Wardley’s cheek.
The more executions she witnessed, the harder her heart had become. Now, she didn’t even flinch as the heads dropped neatly from their shoulders onto the white porcelain slab, a fact she was oddly proud of. A queen should have a strong stomach for justice, she reasoned. Dinah stood perfectly still now beside Harris, her face free of emotion as her terrible father made his way up to the platform. A silence fell over the noisy crowd as the entire kingdom bowed before their King, who was donning his impregnable armor, making him look like a bear, a force to be reckoned with. A black heart etched across his huge silver breastplate stood proudly out from his chest, his heavy gold crown shining in the afternoon light.
The King climbed the stairs, but not before his eyes met Dinah’s. There was a strange exchange between them—he shot her a satisfied smile and Dinah, confused and unable to control her mouth, gave half a smile back. What just happened, she worried. She couldn’t remember her father smiling at her—ever. He lumbered up the stairs, his iron footsteps echoing across the courtyard.
Heart Cards clustered in a messy line at the front of the stage, their swords clutched tightly against their chests. Her father began his customary speech, declaring the guilt of the prisoners, and the great honor they bestowed upon Wonderland by allowing the kingdom to take their heads, thus clearing out the evil that lurked in Wonderland’s darkest hearts. It was a gift to all the people of Wonderland, given really by him, the King. The prisoners were those chosen specifically by the Clubs for their heinous crimes, their lack of remorse, or their general level of uselessness to the Kingdom. Most were murderers, some were burglars, some were thieves, and some were women who sold themselves to men for the highest price. All were housed in the Black Towers. That was punishment enough, thought Dinah, worse than any of these naive people could ever imagine.
Today’s bunch, he announced, was made up of fourteen prisoners—nine men and five women. The list of beheadings went back several years, as there were plenty of people in Wonderland who had earned the blade. Dinah fidgeted nervously as her father read on until she felt Harris’s elbow deep in her ribs.