Dinah and her men reached the mossy grass and the clump of flowers that circled it. “I know it’s here, I know it’s here.” Dinah was frantically searching the ground, shoving dirt aside, ripping up weeds that hadn’t been trimmed for years.
Bah-kan stepped forward. “Are you sure this is the spot? I remember seeing a map of the palace that had the secret entrances—”
“Shut up!” barked Dinah. “Shut up. Everyone.”
No one said a word. Dinah stood up, turned around, and looked at the sun, remembering the thin slat of moonlight that had led her out that night, the night that she had met Vittiore for the first time, when Cheshire had shown her the tunnels. The moonlight that had come from . . . there. She stepped over about ten feet and squatted. Within seconds her fingers had found the grooves in the earth and traced the line of the trapdoor in the dirt.
She flung it open and grinned at her men as a cloud of rotted dust settled over her. She winked at Cheshire in a rare moment of good humor, and he handed her a torch.
Dinah cleared her throat. “I believe our revenge awaits. Now, on your knees, men.”
Below her, the secret passageways into the palace were as empty and still as they had been that night so many years ago.
Eight
Darkness consumed Dinah. She was far underneath the earth, the smell of wet dirt overcoming her senses. For a moment she was desperately alone, clawing at the mud around her. Finally, she waved the flame of her pink torch past her face, where the flaring light illuminated her harsh features.
“Are you sure it’s this way?” hissed Wardley, two steps behind her. “I think we’re lost.”
“Trust me.” Dinah waved the torch again. The tunnel should be here—she knew it. But . . . aha! She crouched down and crawled through a small hole in the earth, pushing her way through a thin layer of dirt that had filled the tunnel since she had last been here. Worms and spiders and gods knew what else fell around her as she pushed through the dirt. The black roots twisted above her head, and Dinah could hear the roots reaching for her, seeking to envelop her familiar mind and body.
With a cry, she pushed through the opening. Wardley’s hand wrapped around her ankle. A thin wall of dirt collapsed under her outstretched hand, and Dinah pushed herself through the showering muck. Her head emerged in a wide tunnel, long forgotten and freezing. Yes, yes, this was right. Through the darkness, Dinah could see the thin tunnel stretched out in front of her.
“We’re in,” she whispered. She pushed herself up to her feet and waited for the others to emerge from the small space. Wardley, Ki-ershan, Sir Gorrann, Bah-kan, Cheshire, and a dozen of their strongest Spades picked their way through the tunnels behind her. Dinah held her torch high, her eyes taking in her surroundings. It was all familiar now, the biting cold of the tunnels, the damp earth, the black roots. Dinah ran forward, her hands touching the walls.
“Yes, yes, I think we go through here!”
“Dinah, stop!” ordered Wardley. “Wait for us!”
Dinah paused and took a few deep breaths, waiting for Wardley to catch up. The quiet moment wrenched open her memory of the battle: Morte crashing into the waves of Heart Cards. Her sword sinking into a neck, a stomach. Yur-Jee’s throat slit wide. Such terrible things, and yet the feeling inside her wasn’t one of despair. Dinah gave herself a shake. Focus. Focus. After a few seconds, Wardley emerged next to her. They were both bloodied and worn from the toll of battle.
“Are you all right?”
Dinah tried to ignore how near he was to her. His scent, his comfort, the heat of his skin—it was enough to drive her mad, and the last thing she needed to feel right now was distraction and despair. She brushed him off.
“I’m so close,” she murmured to him softly, “so close now to the man who killed Charles and stole my crown. I can’t lose my head down here, but—Wardley. The battle. So much blood.”
What she didn’t share with the boy she loved was that the black fury was churning inside her now, alive and starving, and Dinah was prepared to feed it to her heart’s content. Everything she touched seemed to tingle with life. She was awake, and her sword longed for vengeance.
Sir Gorrann appeared through the small hole in the ground, the pink flames of his torch dancing over his weathered face. “Yer telling me that this really is the easiest way into the palace? Yeh made it sound like a stroll across the croquet court.” He gave Dinah a smile that she was unable to return.
Cheshire edged up beside them, his normally pristine face and hair smudged with dirt. She barely recognized him without his usual adornments and purple cloak. “Yes, she’s right, it’s through here.” He nodded. “I’m almost certain this tunnel leads out to the tapestry near the king’s privy, which will take us out into the Great Hall.”
“And where exactly will the king be?” thundered Bah-kan, who could not keep quiet no matter how much they shushed him. He clutched his Heartsword close to his chest, his forearms stained with the blood of dead Cards.
“The king will be in the keep, which is above the Great Hall,” answered Cheshire. “He will be there with his council, and Queen Vittiore.”
“She is not a queen,” answered Dinah icily. “She is a stranger upon the throne.”
“And an innocent,” Wardley reminded her firmly. “Someone who the king used, just like you. We need her to get the people on your side.”
Dinah took a deep breath. “I know.”
A painful groan escaped Sir Gorrann’s lips as he braced himself against a wall. He had a wound in his thigh leaking blood and a gash across his shoulder, but wouldn’t let anyone come close enough to tend either. The Spade was obviously exhausted. After a moment’s respite, he continued down the tunnels. “Come. Let’s finish this. When this palace finds out you’re alive, the armies will continue to tear each other apart. Yeh need the majority of the people within these walls to live. Iu-Hora’s smoke lasts less than two hours. The Yurkei won’t wait forever to raid the city, and the King of Hearts won’t hold back his worst. They will both unleash their rage, until there is no one left to fight their war except the children.”
“Then let’s stop talking about it and make haste,” agreed Dinah. “Follow me.” She began running through the tunnels, weaving through doorways and up muddy stone steps without thinking. Something inside her was sure these were the steps she had taken three times before. She knew these tunnels, and it seemed the more she thought about it, the more lost she became.
“Yes,” whispered Cheshire, who had slithered up beside her. “I remember now, this is the way. Follow us!” he bellowed backward.