Wardley stepped back and took stock of her body. “How well do you feel? Are you sure you shouldn’t be lying down?”
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 breastplates. 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 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 looked at her quizzically 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.”
The time she had missed in the Caterpillar’s fog 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,” ordered 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 . . .”
Throne. Crumbs. 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.”
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 onetime future Knave of Hearts, do you think we will win?”
Wardley glanced down at Dinah, his face painted with 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.”
Sixteen
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 unfurled themselves toward Morte’s hooves as they passed by them before recoiling, rejected and hungry. As the valleys grew 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 tied Corning to the bush and Dinah simply dropped Morte’s reins. He 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 . . .”
“We’re almost there. It’s just around here.” Wardley stepped to the left and disappeared behind a wall of thorns. Her hands out in front of her, Dinah pressed on. She followed Wardley’s footprints until they led her out to a small, magical clearing. Behind them was a silent blue pool of water, so still and clear that the light reflecting from it cast turquoise waves across Wardley’s handsome face. At the center of the pool, unattached to any rock or other structure, a waterfall flowed up from the middle, its stream turning into mist once it hit a certain height. The mist then spiraled and disappeared into the sky. They stood in silence for a few minutes before Wardley spoke softly as Dinah stared in fascination.
“Incredible, isn’t it?” Wardley pulled off his boots and soaked his feet in the shallow pool. Dinah followed his lead. “I’ve never felt water this clean. It’s the perfect temperature—not too hot, not too cold. I found this while you were sleeping off the hallucinations. Cheshire was watching you, and I couldn’t just sit there wondering if you would ever wake up, so I wandered.” He shook his head. “I prayed that I could take you here one day, that you would wake up. Dinah, think about it—where does the water come from? There is no visible spring under the surface and yet the water keeps rising. It’s a miracle.”
A smile crept over his face, so lovely that it hurt her heart. “Wonderland is a pretty wondrous place, wouldn’t you say? I had no idea that so much lay outside the palace walls. It makes me want to climb on Corning and just disappear.”