Cheshire gave her a sympathetic smile and continued. “I’m sure that’s difficult to hear, but let’s not forget that the man you thought was your father tried to kill you, and murdered your brother. You should relish the realization that you do not share his blood. Davianna and I loved each other for a little over a decade. Eventually, the King of Hearts began to suspect your mother of having an affair. Every waking hour I could, I spent with her, and there were many times when the King came so close to catching us that I barely escaped in time. In your tenth year of life, Davianna fell ill, very suddenly. I suspected poison, and I still do, though I have never been able to prove who did it or why.” He took a labored breath and Dinah noticed a slight tremble of his lip. “I never got to say a proper goodbye to her, except when they gathered the highest ranking Cards to pay their last respects as the life slowly drained out of her. Imagine, seeing the love of your life dying in front of you and being only able to exchange formal, pleasant words of comfort in front of the King, your heart feeling like it will burst inside of your chest.
“I dared not say anything, because who would watch over you if I was executed? And what would happen to you? The King already suspected that you were not his because of your dark hair and dark eyes—so unlike mad Charles, with his blond hair, surely your father’s child. Your mother, the breath of my life, died that evening. The King was left alone to grieve, but I arranged to have an urgent account matter to discuss with him that very evening. In his drunken grief, he confessed to me that he thought his late wife was unfaithful. I volunteered to root out the culprit, and a month later, with the proof to show, I gave him the head of the Diamond Cards, a handsome young man named Kenrik Ruhalt. Poor Kenrik—he denied it, all the way up until your father beheaded him in a secret execution in the dawn hours. I was given his job, and eventually worked my way up until I was the King’s Chief Advisor, the Head of the Cards.
“Was it cruel? Yes, but I had to get myself into the best position to control the King—to make sure that he acted as a steadfast ruler, as it was not his natural inclination—and most importantly, to keep an eye on you, my daughter.”
Cheshire smiled and looked down at the table. “You were ten then, and I had already interceded where I dared to make sure that you had a good childhood, even before Davianna’s death. I arranged for the Ghanes to move into the palace so that you might have a friend in Wardley, since before his arrival you were a lonely, moody child. I convinced the King to hire gentle Harris as your guardian, instead of the cruel Governess Forsythe, who was the customary teacher for the royal children. I made sure that you were kept safe, as safe as you could be, from the King’s rage. I encouraged him to go to war with the Yurkei when you were very young, so that you and your mother could have some peace.
“But, as you know, the man you have called father for so long is a rapacious and obsessive man. He was sure that you were not his child, and was convinced that you could never follow him to the throne because you would soon marry and either banish or execute him. He told me of an idea that he had been thinking of for a long time, the idea that he would create his own heir, the heir he had always wanted. He needed to find a child, a child about the same age as his daughter. A girl, for a boy would be prone to rebellion, and what he needed was someone who could be his puppet, someone who he could control without problems arising. As his advisor, I warned him against the idea, but I had long suspected that he would never put you on the throne. I did all I could to keep him away from you, but his rage and paranoid delusions were growing, though he kept them concealed behind a charming mask of contempt. I could never risk my position as advisor—who would watch over you then? So I agreed to help him find his little princess.
“The King told his council that he was going off on a hunt, but instead we rode hard for the outer villages on the lower Western Slope—isolated sea towns where we would go unnoticed. On our way there, we chanced upon a small hut with a fire burning outside, far outside of any town or village. A woman and a small girl were making necklaces out of seashells. The girl was breathtakingly beautiful, ethereal almost, and most importantly, she had yellow hair, the exact same color as the King’s. That night the King burned a small heart onto her back to remind her who he was, and rode homeward with her strapped to Morte’s back. A few Cards followed behind with her mother, Faina Baker, and threw her in the Black Towers upon their arrival to Wonderland proper. The girl was christened Vittiore—a noble name—and put in front of the court as his long-lost daughter. You were there that day, and I watched your face as your world fell apart.
“It was that day that I realized that your life was in danger, and that the closer you got to your coronation, the more your father would try to get rid of you—either that or try to persuade you to give up your rightful throne. That would never work—even as a child, you longed to be queen.”
He grinned.
“Your thirst for power matches my own. I showed you the tunnels that afternoon, for it was all I could do at that moment to help you. Someday, I thought to myself, you would have need of them. I started trying to clue you in to your father’s motivations, to the fact that a vast conspiracy to crown Vittiore was growing up around you, one that I was a part of, but I undermined it whenever I could. Your father made his stance during the Royal Croquet Game and I knew it wasn’t long before he would try to have you murdered or exiled. I passed you a note at the dinner that evening, in a small bottle. It might seem coy, but I wanted you to figure it out on your own. After all, I knew my daughter to be intelligent and curious, just like me.”