“The Yurkei are guarding him day and night. We will not strike. Actually, I think he might be of great use to us.”
“Has Mundoo been notified of what his witch doctor did to the Queen?”
“We sent two riders this morning with the message. They also carried our finalized plans for the battle. God help us if they are caught.”
“They won’t be. They’re Yurkei.”
Dinah would listen for what could have been hours or seconds before drifting back into her dazzling sleep. The next day, she woke to a cool cloth being pressed against her forehead.
“Your Highness?” She looked up, expecting to see Sir Gorrann, but instead found herself uncomfortably close to Cheshire’s face. “How are you feeling?”
Alarmed, Dinah pushed herself up faster than she should have and was rewarded with a bout of nausea. “Oh. Oh.” She allowed herself to sink back into the cot. “What happened?”
Cheshire resumed lightly patting her head with the cloth. “What do you remember?”
“I was out walking, because I couldn’t sleep… and I found Iu-Hora’s tent.” She frowned. “And then… then….” She should have remembered, but there was a gaping hole in her memory; it was puzzling and unnerving. She could see bits and pieces, but the knowledge of what had happened was missing. “I’m sorry…,” she sputtered. “I don’t really remember. There was smoke and light and….”
Cheshire made a disgusted sound, yet his face showed a certain delight and fascination. “The Yurkei witch doctor has more powers than Wonderland has ever bothered to fathom. I highly doubt that you wandered there entirely on your own accord. He’s been known to call those to him when he feels the need, whether by injury or trance. There is evil in that tent that might be of use to us yet. He has a mastery of alchemy that Wonderland has yet to discover.” He stroked Dinah’s head softly, attempting to soothe her. It made her uncomfortable. “We almost lost you to the fever. If you had died, Iu-Hora’s head would have been sucked down into the shadow ponds by now. You have caused a great stir, daughter.”
Heads… something about heads… Dinah couldn’t remember. There was only the unclear memory of smoke and light, and a burning deep in her lungs.
“Do you feel well enough to sit up now?”
“Yes.” Dinah hated depending on him for anything, but she let him help her up and hold her hand as she gently made her way to a small wooden table. Soup steamed in a small mug and, somehow, there was a pile of warm sweets waiting for her. She looked up at Cheshire with amazement. “How does one make warm pies in the wilderness?”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “There is nothing I can’t get for you.” Cheshire raised a spoon to her lips.
“I can do it myself, thank you.” Dinah clutched the spoon with determination and shakily brought it to her dry lips. “How did you get the—was it poison?—out?”
Cheshire leaned back on his chair and folded his long hands under his chin. “Wild lavender rice tea. Rice attracts moisture, and the smoke, when inhaled, became a form of liquid hallucination. It’s quite fascinating. I visited the witch doctor myself after I saw you, and he explained its full effects. My dagger at his throat helped a bit, I think. After that, the Yurkei wouldn’t let anyone come near his tent.” He paused. “I hate to be the one to tell you, but this incident only served to fan the flames of anger between the Spades and the Yurkei.”
“We’re on the same side for gods’ sake,” snapped Dinah. “Either way, many of these men will die, all for me.”
His smile faded. “That’s where you are mistaken. These men do not fight and die for you. No man fights or dies for a leader. He dies for an ideal. That ideal is embodied in your person. The Spades will die fighting for their rights, for the rights of the men that they stand beside. They fight for the right to bear children, for a chance to live forever through their heirs. The Yurkei fight to reclaim the land of their forefathers.” Distracted by a sweet on the little table, Cheshire summed it up, “Don’t delude yourself, these men fight for themselves.”
Cheshire selected a slice of plum pie and took a small bite. Dinah had never noticed how small and sharp his teeth were. His bites were half the size of hers. “Fathers and sons, my dear. That is what these men fight for, even if they believe they are fighting for you. Part of becoming a leader is learning how to manipulate that belief. It’s the way power works. Your face and dress and crown represent these things for them, but it wouldn’t matter if it was you, or another. Your task now is to become a queen for whom they’d be willing to die.”