Dinah kept quiet as she looked down at the throngs of people below, Mundoo’s warm hand against the back of her head. Nothing he said was untrue.
“Executing you, your Spade, and your steed would be the easiest course of action. But I think that we can find a better use for you. How much do you know of your kingdom as it currently stands?”
“I know that the city is restless because of raised taxes. I know that my father is growing ever more paranoid and that he is amassing the Cards in great numbers; for what purpose, I am unsure. I know that he has placed Vittiore, his puppet, on the throne next to him, and that he rules with an ever-harder iron fist. He is preparing for something, but it is of little concern to me. I am no longer a member of the royal family. I am now simply a girl who has no home.”
Mundoo smiled. “If only I could believe that. I hear your sister is very beautiful, with hair like the sun.”
“And a mind like mud,” replied Dinah, sharper than she intended. “She does nothing that my father does not tell her to do. Vittiore could not rule over an anthill.”
“Interesting. But your father, he is a clever man, no?”
Dinah thought of how her father had beheaded Faina Baker right in front of her just to teach her to not put her nose where it didn’t belong. “He is intelligent, yes. He is a skilled fighter, but he is also brutal and unforgiving, and a drunk. It has made him slow in recent years. He is full of hatred, for reasons I do not understand. The cleverest man in the palace is Cheshire. Most of the decisions my father makes come from him.” In her mind’s eye, Dinah saw Charles’s tiny body crumpled under a starry sky. Her voice rose. “I have nothing but hatred for the King. I would gladly take his life. I attempted to in the Twisted Wood until the Spade intervened.”
“So I have heard.” Mundoo stared at her, his unflinching blue eyes piercing her tingling bones. “I find you very interesting, Dinah, exiled Princess of Wonderland. Stories of your escape from the palace have echoed through this land, even here into Hu-Yuhar, our home. You are called many things: the Queen of Death, the Red Queen, the Rebel Queen, Rider of the Black Devil. Some even say you are a ghost, or an omen of the future….”
“I am no one,” replied Dinah. “I am simply Dinah, an exile who stumbled into your mushroom fields by accident.”
Mundoo raised his eyebrow. “By accident? Yes, that is interesting. No one stumbles into our sacred burial ground by accident. No. Your Spade led you there, though his reasons are yet clear.”
“No, we were…,” Dinah found the words dying on her tongue, and the twinge in her heart told her that Mundoo was right. The Spade had led her there. She had thought they were fleeing the King, perhaps over the mountains to the Other Worlds, but instead, he had taken them east… right into the Yurkei’s hands. “I trusted him,” she gasped, her throat dry and raspy.
Mundoo stood and handed her a small wooden bowl filled with water. “Drink. I insist. It pains me to hear your voice.”
Dinah, feeling humbled, gulped the water noisily.
“You should know not to trust anyone when you possess so much power.”
“I do not possess power,” she answered, wiping her mouth. “I possess a sword, a bag full of filthy clothing, and a horse.”
“Ah, your horse.” Mundoo untied a piece of fabric that was lashed to his glorious throne and the roof of the tent pulled back, like an egg with its shell removed. The sky opened up above them, and the room was filled with the whirling cold wind that had so easily tossed the ladder. Dinah barely had time to duck before a giant white crane flapped into the tent, its huge wings sending bursts of air across her face. The crane landed on the throne and gave a loud squawk at Dinah. Mundoo continued, seemingly oblivious to the dangerous-looking bird. “Morte will be put to death in one week, when the moon is at its fullest. A price must be paid for all of the blood he has taken from this tribe. Believe that I will find no joy in killing a Hornhoov, rare and exquisite creatures that they are, and I have never seen one quite like him.”
“He hasn’t done anything,” Dinah knew it was untrue as soon as the words passed over her tongue.
“No? With my own eyes, I saw him crush three of my best warriors without even a backward glance, at least, not until he came back to taste their flesh.” Dinah remembered the bear, Morte’s muzzle covered with the smear of blood and the way her stomach had turned. “The beast WILL die. And then we shall decide what to do with his rider. I have much to think about. My spies have given me reason to believe that your father is preparing to launch a large assault on my tribe, perhaps bringing the fight here, to Hu-Yuhar, within a few months’ time.”