Dinah watched with caution as Morte drank mightily from one of the clear pools. There were no roaming bubbles so far, but she could see the blighted ponds rippling in the distance, a sea of foamy pink bubbles against the green moss.
“I hate this place.” Sir Gorrann rode up beside her, his mare panting with exhaustion. He looked over at Morte as Dinah dismounted him. “Gods, he’s fast. Cyndy here was galloping her fastest, and we were still at least a half mile behind you.”
Dinah smiled and rested her hand on Morte’s chest. He shot her an annoyed look and stepped away. “He wasn’t even truly running. When the king chased us, he was running so fast I could barely make out the landscape.”
“Mmm. He’s an incredible monster, isn’t he?” They both glanced over at Morte as he happily stomped a toad to death.
Dinah trained her eyes on the ever-shifting ponds. “Tell me, Sir Gorrann, what do you think of the Spades’ demands? This is why you agreed to find me, right? Why you said you would work with Cheshire? This was your agenda. You wanted to make sure that I survived and made it to the right people so that I could advance the cause of the Spades. Is that correct?”
He looked out into the distance. “Yeh would be correct. I never hid that I had an agenda, not from yeh. If I can’t bring back Ioney and my Amabel, at least I can better the lives of those men who I would call brothers. But I will fight for yeh, Dinah. I believe that yeh will be a great queen, and I will fight even if yeh don’t agree to the Spades’ demands. They are fair demands. There was nothing that seemed . . . in excess.” He paused and took a sip of water from one of the clear ponds. “Of course,” he continued as he wiped his mouth, “if yeh don’t accept the Spades’ demands, yeh will not have an army. On our side of the battle, we will have a thousand Yurkei warriors, three hundred Rogue Cards——who are useless if yeh ask me—and the king will wipe all of yeh from Wonderland like the dirt under his feet.”
“Can we win with the Spades?” Dinah asked.
Sir Gorrann watched with a wary eye as two champagne bubbles began drifting toward them, so light and friendly on the wind. “Perhaps. Mundoo was counting on them joining us when he marched north.”
Dinah narrowed her eyes. “I wish I would have known.”
“’Twas a gamble in the first place, even for Cheshire. Yeh should just be thankful that they are here now. Without them, we haven’t a prayer. The Cards don’t fear the Yurkei near as much as they should, but they will fear a line of Spades.”
“Then it is done.” Dinah watched a pretty pink bubble burst across a low rock. Within seconds, the moss covering its surface shriveled and turned white. “And when you are allowed to marry, will you marry again, Sir Gorrann?”
He looked out at the low valley, now filled with several dozen floating pink bubbles, all very slowly making their way toward them. “For many of us, there is only one person who can fill the space of our heart.”
Dinah thought of Wardley, the way his breath had washed across her face, the way the scar on his shoulder had stretched when he raised his arms to wash his body. She loved every part of him. For her, there was no other. “Yes.”
His gold eyes rested on her face, the crinkles around them showing the first signs of a smile. She snapped her fingers for Morte, who didn’t come, so she began walking quickly toward him.
“Thank you for your input, Sir Gorrann. I think we should head back to camp.”
He watched a shimmering bubble that rolled slowly toward his feet. “Couldn’t agree more.”
Dinah looked out over the landscape, so enchanting, a world of soft pink bubbles and warm light. She shrugged. “It feels like love.”
“And that’s why it’ll kill yeh,” replied Sir Gorrann, nudging her toward Morte.
Fourteen
Dinah’s army continued to march toward Wonderland Palace and preparations for war continued at a frantic pace. When they weren’t traveling, Dinah was meeting with the council, poring over Wonderland’s laws or training with Bah-kan and Sir Gorrann. Wardley now brought his own special expertise into the bouts, and when they had fought tonight, Dinah was left spent and flushed.
Most nights the future queen fell into bed exhausted to the core. Her body ached, her mind was spent, and she wished she had insisted on bringing the heavenly grass mattress from Hu-Yuhar instead of this makeshift cot. Usually, a deep sleep took her immediately, but not this night. Her thoughts were lingering on Wardley, the way he had turned when she had lunged at him, the way his white sleeves fluttered when he spun, the droplet of sweat on his brow. The more aggravated she became the less likely sleep was, and she found herself tossing needlessly on her cot. Something was keeping her awake. There was a voice trailing on the edge of the warm wind. Come to me. Dinah tossed and turned. Sleep was a white rabbit on quick feet, and no matter how much she tried, she could not follow it into the blissful dark.
Exasperated, Dinah sat up and pulled on her tunic and boots. The damp air of the Darklands was growing warmer each day as summer neared and she had no need for heavy wool or feathered pants. She grabbed a handful of apple rinds from an open bag and ducked out of her white tent. Her two guards were, of course, wide-awake when she passed them outside.
“Your Majesty?” Ki-ershan was the only Yurkei warrior who addressed her as his queen. Dinah had grown quite fond of him.
“I’m just going for a short walk through the tents.”
“You may not go alone.”
“I won’t. I’ll have Morte with me.”
The guard glanced up at the massive beast that had trotted over to greedily consume the sugar cubes. The bone spikes that protruded from his hooves were as white as the moon in the flickering torchlight.
“Are you sure, my lady?”
Dinah touched his shoulder. “It’s just a walk, I promise. I’ll be back in half an hour. I’ll just be inside the Yurkei camp.”
Normally the guards would not let her out of their sight unless she had a protector—Sir Gorrann or Wardley or Cheshire would serve well enough—but what could these men do that Morte could not? Dinah began strolling up and down the rows, first through the black Spade tents, which reeked strongly of men, ripe sweat, and ale. Loud snores filled the narrow grassy corridors, and Dinah smiled at each resonating snort. She lightly touched the tent flaps as she walked by, lingering on how close she felt to these soldiers. These men would fight and die for her, even if they weren’t sure about her ability as queen. They believed in her, in her claim for the throne, but most important they believed she would acknowledge their rights. Whatever the reason, she would appreciate every sleepy sound that came from their filthy mouths. After the battle, there would be far fewer voices to hear.