“That is true.” Wardley crouched next to a small bowl of water and pulled his shirt over his head. Dinah struggled to keep her face motionless as her eyes raked over his tan, taut skin and she watched with pleasure as he scrubbed the grime off his lean chest. As he lathered a bar of soap through his hair and scraped the dirt from under his fingernails, he repeated most of what she already knew: after she had stabbed him (way too deep! he was kind enough to remind her) he was transported to the infirmary, where the King of Hearts had found him and demanded his head. Wardley had assumed that he would die right there and then.
“He was mad with rage, Dinah, furious and insane. You’ve seen him drunk—well, this was a thousand times worse. He began striking the midwives and the nurses, screaming, ‘Off with his head! Off with his head!’” Wardley shook his floppy hair. “I was terrified. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t fight. I could barely stay conscious, for gods’ sake. Luckily, one brave doctor convinced him that my blood on the table was price enough. No man would let himself be injured that deeply on purpose. The king stuck his fingers deep into my wound to make sure.”
“Oh, Wardley. I’m so sorry.”
Wardley let the wet rag linger over the jagged, ugly scar on his shoulder, four inches long and barely healed. Dinah felt tears flood her eyes as she looked at the hideous wound she had inflicted. “I’ll get you some Yurkei medicine for that. Their potions possess incredible healing powers.” She let her fingers softly trace the scar before stepping away.
He paused. “Many times I woke up in the stables, not remembering that I had fallen asleep. The days seemed never ending, and the nights . . .” Wardley had a faraway look in his eyes, a look that Dinah had seen before—it was a place she could never reach him. His mind was elsewhere, and for a second she saw a flicker of something pass in front of them.
“Wardley.” At the sound of her voice, he snapped back to attention, his eyes filled with tears.
“After a while Cheshire came to see me. He told me his plan, each week a bit more information—never enough that I could act on it alone, and never enough that I could ever accuse him of treason. He’s crafty, Dinah.”
So am I, she thought, because he is my father.
“Finally, the man told me what he wanted. He wanted me to lead an army of Spades south to meet you, here in the Darklands. To fight for the rightful queen, to fight for you.” He smiled. “But I did not need convincing—you are the rightful Queen of Wonderland. I wondered: How do you convince an army of Spades to fight against their fellow Cards? What would make a single Spade drop their loyalty to one crown to fight for another?”
Dinah had no idea. Wardley leaned forward, a drop of water falling off a curly lock of brown hair. “Rights, Dinah. The Spades long for their own rights. As it turns out, I didn’t have to convince anyone. They have been waiting for this for a long time. Our departure date was set, in the middle of a long night. I stole away from the stables and came to the place that Cheshire had told me, half-convinced that this was some sort of insane game that the king was playing to test my loyalty. But there they were in the darkness, a silent army of Spades just waiting in the courtyard, with their commander, Starey Belft, at the helm. Here’s what I’ve learned, and what you should remember: the Spades’ loyalty is not to the king. It has never been to the king. It is to Starey Belft. He lives the depraved life of a Spade, and so they respect him. They would follow him into hell, and they did. We marched for a week and lost more than ten men. We only have a few horses. The things I’ve heard from these men, you wouldn’t believe. . . .”
Sir Gorrann poked his head into the tent and looked surprised to see Wardley soaking wet and Dinah watching silently.
She smiled. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“I couldn’t care less. The council is waiting for yeh both.”
Dinah gave a slight nod. “We’ll be there shortly. Thank you, Sir Gorrann.”
He left, and Wardley eyed the door skeptically. “What about him? Do you trust him? You know he’s in Cheshire’s pocket, don’t you?”
“Aside from you, I’m not sure there is anyone I fully trust, or ever will again. And yet I believe that Sir Gorrann has my best interests at heart. I consider him a dear, eternally grumpy friend.”
Wardley pulled a ripped tunic over his head. He softly took Dinah’s face in his hands and her heart stopped. “You do know what you are doing, don’t you? You’re planning a war, Dinah. A war in which many people will die, perhaps even yourself. This isn’t playing swords in front of the stable. This isn’t a game.”
Dinah pulled back from him, her face flushed. Wardley always knew how to get under her skin. “Of course I know! I’m the rightful queen. Shouldn’t I fight for my throne?”
Wardley shook his head. “You are, but I worry for you. You’ve never seen a battle, you’ve never seen a man . . .”
Dinah shoved him roughly backward, her anger surprising her. “What? I’ve never seen a man die? I’ve seen my brother’s body crumpled on a stone slab. I’ve seen a farmer with an arrow buried in his back just because he happened to be near my path. I killed more than a few Cards on my way out of the palace, and I see their bloody faces in my dreams. So don’t tell me that I haven’t seen death or war, or that I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve been at war with the King of Hearts since the day that I was born.”
Wardley grabbed her hands. “I’m sorry! You’re right. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. Forgive me, my queen.”
Dinah stared at him for a moment before nodding her head. “Everyone thinks I am just a little girl, pretending she will be queen. But I will take my father’s crown. I will.” Her skin tingled with the idea.
Wardley sank to his knees. “You’re right. I’m sorry for my presumptions. I have missed you, Dinah, deeply.” He wrapped his arms around her legs, pressing his head against her knees. “Knowing your heart beats has given me new life and glorious purpose.”
Dinah let her hand rest on his thick curls, her face cracking into a smile at his touch. Her hands slid down his hair, tracing his jawline, pulling his face upward so that his chin brushed the top of her thighs. “Wardley . . .”
Before she could go any further Wardley leaped to his feet.
“Dinah—you shoved me!” The boy she loved laughed a bit before stepping back and shaking his head, his eyes searching her furious face. “You are surely not the same girl that I kissed under the Julla Tree. You’ve grown strong!”
“Don’t forget it,” she snapped, resentful that Wardley had riled her heart up, as he always did.
She cleared her throat.
“Let’s go, they are waiting for us.”
Wardley gave her a look.
“Don’t be mad. I’m sorry I doubted you.” He reached out and tugged playfully on her braid, and Dinah’s fierce heart melted.
Thirteen