Dinah shook her head. “No. I’ve been sleeping most of the day. I don’t deserve any more rest, especially when my men are so busy.” All around the camp was a flurry of activity. Horses were being fitted for breast plates. Swords were being sharpened, and the sound of metal on metal was deafening. During the day the camp was usually filled with the raised voices of men, but today there were no voices to be heard, only the sound of work and progress. All of these sounds fell under an eerie quiet that permeated the air.
“Why is no one speaking?” Dinah saw several Spades cast fascinated looks in her direction and then drop their eyes when she looked back. “What’s going on?”
Wardley gave her a quizzical look before pushing her hair aside to whisper in her ear. Dinah’s heart beat rapidly as his breath brushed her cheek. “Tomorrow we begin our march north, Dinah. The war is upon us.”
Dinah quickly counted the days on her fingers. Missing an entire day had left her confused. He was right—they would march out the following day, headed for Wonderland Palace. How had it arrived so suddenly? The Spades continued to stare at her.
“Move along!” Wardley snapped, and they begrudgingly obeyed.
“Why were they staring at me like that?”
“Probably because you are the only woman in this camp.” He fidgeted awkwardly.
“Tell me the truth,” snapped Dinah. She had known Wardley long enough that it was painfully obvious when he was lying.
He sighed. “Cheshire has been telling everyone how you survived the encounter with the Yurkei witch doctor, how in return he gave you a vision of our victory.”
Dinah looked at Wardley and gasped. “THAT is a lie!”
He clamped his hand over her mouth. “Shh. It doesn’t matter. It gives the men hope, letting them believe that you have some special knowledge of a victorious battle. Who knows, it might even be true. The men will have less fear when they go into battle if they believe fate is on their side.”
Dinah grabbed Wardley’s arm. “That is a false hope. There was no word of our victory. Although….”
Cat. Heart. Grass.
“There might have been,” Dinah admitted. “I can’t remember. Still, I want the men to believe in themselves, not some false prophecy. They need to have faith that we can win.”
“And why exactly will we win?” asked Wardley.
“Because we are on the right side,” answered Dinah, unconvinced. “Because we have to. Because it is right.” Dinah looked out over the camp. She knew the odds. Her men were outnumbered and perhaps outmatched. The Yurkei and the Spades would fight with a certain fervor, but did fervor and righteousness matter when the numbers were not in their favor? Dinah felt a fresh stab of fear. “Do you believe we can win? As the once future Knave of Hearts, do you think we will win?”
Wardley glanced down at Dinah, his face a book of weariness as a lock of curly brown hair fell over his eyes. Dinah felt her heartbeat quicken. “Take a walk with me, Dinah. There’s something I want to show you.”
Chapter Eighteen
Morte dutifully followed Corning, Wardley’s obedient white steed, out of the camp and into the wilds of the Darklands. They walked in silence for about an hour, through hot swamps and over a field of strange rubbery plants that produced in Dinah an uneasy feeling of being watched. The plants seemed to be alive—unfurling themselves toward Morte’s hooves as they passed before recoiling, rejected and hungry. As the valleys seemed to grow wetter and wetter, Wardley turned them slightly east, and the horses began a laborious climb up slick grassy hills, their hooves slipping on the slimy moisture that permeated the ground. Before long, the rolling peaks ended at a tangled bramble patch that defended itself from invaders with wicked-looking black thorns, each the size of a hand. They dismounted their steeds. Wardley staked Corning and Dinah laughed at the idea that she would try that with Morte. The best she could hope for is that he would be here when she came back. Wardley slashed at the bramble in front of her as they pushed through its sharp tangle. The bramble grew thicker; the light dimmer. Dinah thought she heard water. Dinah pricked her hand on one of the thorns and watched her blood pool in her palm.
“Wardley….”