Dinah began walking slowly toward Morte, her cape dancing over the wet grass. As she moved past them, each man and warrior bowed before her, falling to their knees in ardent devotion. The rhythm of their falling heads reminded her of the Ninth Sea, a gentle washing of movement. Dinah held her head high, her face a stony mask of determination. The Spades extended their hands to her, and she made sure she brushed each reaching hand with her own. She was grateful and overwhelmed at their devotion, and even more so by this staggering show of loyalty from the Yurkei. For today, she was their chief. They would not bow before her tomorrow.
At the end of the aisle stood Morte, equal parts splendid and monstrous in his armor, which the Yurkei had designed for him. His wide flanks and chest were protected with black armor, painted with the same red heart that Dinah carried on her breast. The rest of his body had been striped with white paint. The bone spikes around his hooves were polished gleaming white, their sharp tips reflecting the light. Gods, he was terrifying. His mouth was open and salivating, the Hornhoov hungry for the coming battle. Dinah’s new saddle sat snug against his neck, and when she approached him, he lifted his leg for her. With a smile, she stepped onto the bony spikes and felt the familiar sensation of being flung onto his high back. She settled into the saddle and looked at the wide road ahead—the road that led to the palace. Morte pawed the ground with anticipation, and Dinah wheeled him around to face her kneeling troops. There was a moment of silence as they stared at their queen, a vision of fury and power. She cleared her throat and raised her voice over the plains.
“Will you join me, my friends and men? Will you march to Wonderland Palace beside me?” Their roar shook the ground and rattled the walls of Dinah’s heart. She smiled. “The king waits for us. Let us go and meet him!”
It took them over two hours to reach the palace, and another hour to climb the hill that Cheshire had pointed out so many times on the wooden Wonderland map. By then, the sun had made its appearance and blazed down on a scene that it would not soon forget.
Outside the circular gates of Wonderland Palace, bordering every inch of the thirty-foot iron walls, were Cards. In some places they were a hundred deep, lined shoulder to shoulder, more people than Dinah had ever seen in one place. The Cards were thickest on the north side, where they were already facing the impassive line of Mundoo’s army. The mounted Heart Cards that lined the north side clearly outnumbered the Yurkei army two to one. But, she thought, each Yurkei warrior is as strong as three regular men.
The banners of the Hearts, Diamonds, and Clubs flapped in the wind above hundreds of archers looking down from the turrets of the palace. Some of them were of the infamous Fergal family, no doubt, deadly and accurate with their arrows.
A stray Spade wandered up next to Dinah. “Wha’ are they waiting for?” He stared down at Mundoo’s unmoving forces.
Dinah’s eyes never left the palace. “Us. They are waiting for us. Now get back in line.”
“’Course, my queen.”
On the south side of the palace, where they waited for Dinah’s army, hordes of Diamonds, Clubs, and a handful of Heart Cards all jeered and shouted, hungry for battle. Cheshire had been perfect in his calculations: the skilled fighters were on the north side, the brutes on the south. Stretching all the way around the palace, the king’s men stood in a perfect circle, thousands more than Dinah had anticipated. In his fear, he had left no man, no resource, unturned.
The Heart Cards on the north side stood fearless, their swords drawn and ready, their red-and-white uniforms glinting brightly in the sunlight. Facing Dinah on the south side, holding every manner of hideous weapon, Clubs grunted and pounded their chests. Beside each Club, chained together in a line, stood strings of men, each armed with a single knife. Prisoners, thought Dinah, looking down, her hand tangled in Morte’s mane. Just as Wardley had predicted, her father had emptied the Black Towers to enlist more men for the battle. The men looked terrified; they squinted in the sunlight, unable to properly see from their time in the darkness. With chains around their wrists, those men didn’t have a prayer. One Spade would be able to kill the lot of them.
More daunting than the Clubs were the large clusters of Diamond Cards, their purple cloaks a bright splash of color in the sea of black, white, and red. Standing perfectly still, they tossed their daggers back and forth between themselves without even turning their heads. They moved like a constellation, with a sharp, deadly bite. Above their heads, turrets had been assembled for the archers to peer down from, their bows aimed directly at her men. Bah-kan rode up beside her.
“You ready?” he asked Dinah.
Strangely, the answer slipped out simply, without thought or fear.
“I’m ready.”
A cheer rose up from Mundoo’s army, which had completely encircled the palace. She watched as the Yurkei erupted with excitement, a rocking mass of terrifying sounds, all striped white and astride their pale steeds. Mundoo was riding Keres near the front, dressed from head to toe in blue and white feathers. From the back of his steed, with his huge sword drawn, he screamed instructions at his army. Their wild cries reached the Yurkei who waited behind Dinah, and they responded with yelps of their own. The two armies were ready, and soon they would smash against Wonderland from both sides, a furious attack not even her father could have imagined.
From her vantage point on the hill, she watched as the north palace gates opened and the king emerged, surrounded by a thick swarm of mounted Heart Cards. He straddled his own white Hornhoov, his red armor glinting in the light, his Heartsword raised above his head. The Cards erupted in cheers, showering down roses from their outstretched hands. The king’s Hornhoov trampled the delicate flowers underfoot. A group of men suddenly broke from his side and began galloping around the outskirts of the palace.
Dinah’s heart clenched, and she heard Wardley, who had sidled up beside her, mutter to himself. Xavier Juflee, the Knave of Hearts, was now riding toward the south side with a large group of Heart Cards. Wardley’s old mentor was the most skilled fighter in all of Wonderland, and he would cut through the Spades (and most of the Yurkei) with deadly ease.
“Damn him,” muttered Wardley behind her. “Gods damn him.”