She had time to think no more. Her sword rose up and met his Heartsword in midair. The sharp, piercing clang seemed to freeze everyone in the room. Again and again their swords met, his Heartsword flashing so rapidly that Dinah quickly focused only on meeting his blows, not getting in any of her own. He nicked the upper part of her arm, twice. She winced as her blood spattered on the floor around her.
The king raised his sword and smiled. “I might take you piece by piece, little girl.”
Dinah held her sword steady and thought of Bah-kan, of the things he had taught her, of the things that Sir Gorrann and Wardley had taught her. Taking a deep breath, she let her mind swirl like a furious wind, ripping through every piece of knowledge that she had. She swiped wide and missed. She swung again and her blade skimmed past his neck, pulling her off balance. The King of Hearts, seeing his opportunity, reached out and grabbed Dinah’s hair, bringing his Heartsword up to meet her neck. As Dinah spun herself away from his grip, she managed to swing one of her legs around in a forceful kick, hitting his chest with all her strength. The king fell back a few feet, surprised and gasping for air. It was enough. She advanced and swung her sword at his heart, catching him hard on the ribs.
In her haste, Dinah had swung with more force than necessary, and her sword bounced off his armor and skittered across the floor. She crawled after it, narrowly avoiding the wide, swinging arcs made by the enraged king. His Heartsword landed blows on either side of her, one after another, as she bobbed and weaved on the floor. Wardley, his face terrified and furious, kicked her sword toward her. Dinah grabbed the blade and raised it above her head.
The king was everywhere around her now, swinging relentlessly, leaving Dinah barely able to protect herself. But his unnecessarily large strokes left him vulnerable. Dinah was able to plow her foot into his leg, smashing part of his knee with her heavy boot. He howled in pain, giving Dinah enough time to get up off the floor. His eyes met hers as he stood up, limping now, more furious than ever. They were both breathing heavily, and those around them watched in awed silence.
Dinah was aware, from a spring deep in her mind, that she was outmatched by the king. He was a better fighter, a better swordsman. She had hoped that the years of drinking and womanizing had slowed his arm, but they had not. Realistically, she had no prayer of beating him, only holding him off until she was too exhausted to fight any longer. This was what Wardley had been trying to tell her. She would not win.
The king was advancing on her now, rapidly, in spite of his injured leg. Her long blade matched his Heartsword in the air, in front of her, behind her. They spun and danced, moving faster and faster as they both became more desperate to end the fight. The blows were coming closer to her chest now, and her clothing was marked with the long gouges that spoke of the Heartsword’s fondness for slashing.
She’d survived the wilds of Wonderland, raised an army, and returned to her home, but she would be defeated here, her life snuffed out by the very man who had taken everything else from her. It was so desperately unfair. In her mind she cried out to the silent Wonderland gods—could there be a worse fate? Dinah leaned on the edge of her sword, just for a moment, to catch the breath that she so desperately needed. The King of Hearts grinned and wiped a smear of blood from his cheek.
“Are you ready to die, Princess? I daresay, it’s long overdue. I should have killed you the moment you emerged from your mother’s womb. Maybe it’s time you went to meet her.”
Dinah’s arms trembled as she raised her sword for what she knew would be the last round. She was so tired, more exhausted than she had ever been in her life. Even death would be a relief from this effort, and if so, she would meet it boldly, hurtling toward the darkness. She would not let him take her gently. Her legs shook beneath her, her entire body screamed with the effort. The king clutched his Heartsword and stepped back, preparing to launch his final wave of attack.
Sir Gorrann stepped forward from the crowd and looked at the king, shaking his head. “Amabel. Ioney,” he said softly. “Amabel and Ioney.” He began repeating their names, louder and louder. “Amabel. Ioney.”
“What are you raving about, you treacherous Spade?” screamed the king. “Shut your mouth or I’ll cut out your tongue when I’m done with her!”
Sir Gorrann stayed still, but the names grew louder. “Amabel, Ioney.”
Wardley understood instantly and joined in. “Amabel, Ioney, Faina Baker, Bah-kan.”
Cheshire raised his voice. “Davianna.”
Together they repeated the names. “Amabel, Ioney, Faina Baker, Bah-kan, Davianna . . .”
The Spades around the room began to chime in with their own names, names that Dinah had never heard. And the Yurkei followed behind them, the names of their fallen like music, rising through the room. The voices grew louder, a cacophony of sound that filled the space. The remaining Cards in the room eyed each other with caution, until one brave Heart Card stepped toward Dinah, his head bowed.
“Eliza Grotton. Forsham Smith.”
He dropped his sword on the ground and bent his knee. After a moment, other Cards followed him. The room was filled now with a chorus of names, growing louder with each brave soul who voiced them, the names of loved ones murdered, imprisoned, missing . . . all under the rule of the King of Hearts.
Sir Gorrann stepped closer to the king. “Amabel, Ioney.” He raised his eyebrow at Dinah. Dinah looked up at the king. Everything now seemed to move slowly, as if each movement was underwater.
“I am the king!” he screamed back at them, and with a roar, he swung his Heartsword at Dinah’s bare neck. She threw herself forward and fell toward the floor, his blade catching the edge of her ear before digging sharply into the side of her head. White-hot pain ricocheted past her eyeballs, and without thinking, she clutched her open hand to the wound.
Blood poured from the gash, spilling over her forehead and nose. The king hesitated for a moment to look down with contempt at his weak daughter, frantically wiping the blood from her eyes so that she might see.
“You foolish child.”
He raised his arm. It was the moment Dinah needed, the one she had planned for. She saw the opening in his armor, a tiny notch just above his heart where the metal curled up and away from his chest. With every last ounce of strength in her body, Dinah leaped up, ducking past the blade that swung for her throat. Leaving herself wide open, she plunged her sword through the space in his armor and then pushed as deeply as she could. She felt his muscle separate, felt the throbbing rhythm vibrate up her sword as it tore through his beating heart.
The king’s blue eyes went wide with shock. He stumbled once, and again, with Dinah’s sword held aloft by his body, like a gruesome marionette. A line of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth, and he looked with surprise at the people gathered around him.