Her people gave a loud gasp, followed by whispered conversation. Could this be true?
“I promise you this. I have come to rule over you not with fear, but with patience and strength. I would ask that you give me your loyalty, to rebuild this city, to make a better Wonderland for all of us and our neighbors, the Yurkei. They are not the people you have been taught to fear, but rather a peaceful and generous race. . . .” Dinah cringed, wishing for a moment that Mundoo was not holding the king’s disembodied head beside her.
“I will strive for peace and commerce with our neighbors, all of them! The Yurkei have much to teach us, and as an act of good faith, when this day is done they will leave the palace walls and reside outside on the Wonderland Plains until our work and treaties here are done.”
Dinah looked up and saw Sir Gorrann watching her silently, his expression bursting with pride, his eyes blurred with tears. Dinah’s own voice caught in her throat as she raised a bloody hand above her head. She could feel it. The crowd was hers.
“I vow to you this day that I will be the ruler that the King of Hearts never was. I vow to you that criminals will have their day in court before being shut away in the Black Towers. I vow that people who speak up about injustice will not simply disappear. If we are ever attacked again, I vow that I will open the palace for your protection. And when I am done making sure that this palace and city are put back to their former glory, I swear as the daughter of Davianna, the Queen of Hearts, that I will empty the Black Towers. The evil that rots this palace from below will be flushed out and we will look to a time when Wonderland enters a peaceful period of prosperity. Will you join me?”
The crowd erupted in wild, tear-filled cheers.
Dinah raised her chin. “Release her.”
The executioner helped Vittiore up from the white marble block. Her face was tearstained and weary. She fell at Dinah’s feet and kissed them, as her blond hair washed around Dinah’s boots.
“Thank you, thank you, you are my queen, you are my queen.”
Dinah turned away from Vittiore and walked swiftly down the platform steps toward the crowd. Her new subjects reached out for her, begging to touch her hands, her face, her feet. She smiled at each one of them, her bloodied hands brushing many, her cracked lips gracing the heads of plump babies, now safe. A shower of roses, plucked from the bushes around them, fell around her like rain.
“All hail the Queen of Hearts! All hail the Queen of Hearts!”
Dinah shut her eyes and let the glory sweep over her. For just a moment, the world was hers. Thank the gods that humans are so fickle. Cheshire had been right about everything. By granting Vittiore mercy, she had won the people. Our plan worked.
Cheshire marched up beside her. “Your Grace. My Queen. We should get you cleaned up before you begin restoring order. A queen shouldn’t be covered with such filth. More important, your wounds need tending.”
“I have one last thing to do first,” she answered, walking quickly now so that Cheshire ran to keep up.
“May I be of assistance?” he asked.
“No.”
This was something she needed to do alone.
Dinah flung open the doors to the Black Towers, letting light flood into the darkness. This time, she would not be sneaking in through the underground tunnels. The towers were barely manned; a few nervous Clubs had been left to linger behind. News traveled fast in Wonderland, and they bowed to her as she entered. She grabbed one and pushed him up against the wall.
“Where is he?” she hissed. The guard pointed to the top of the tower, and Dinah ran faster than she had run through the castle, spiraling up and up and up until she was dizzy and her breathing labored. Up one circle and then up one more, she climbed her way up through the levels of the hive, an unending spiral that reeked of death. The highest-ranking Club in the Towers tried to keep up with her, but he was several floors below her before long. Dirty hands, some twisted with slimy black roots, reached out for her as she passed their cells. Soon, she thought, soon I will come back for all of you.
“It’s the queen! It’s the Queen of Hearts!” one yelled, and soon the whole prison was filled with catcalls and the cheers of the insane.
Dinah reached the top level. It was tiny, barely ten feet across and black as night. There was a padlock around some iron bars: a new silver padlock, perfect for a heart-shaped key. Dinah yanked at the doors, desperate. They clanged loudly as she shook them. She screamed at the guard.
“Unlock this door or I swear I will have your head!”
The Club fumbled with the keys, dropping them twice on the grime-covered floor before Dinah grabbed them from his hand. Finally, she found the heart-shaped key and pushed it inside the lock, flinging wide the cell doors. She saw the outline of a body, curled over on a bench. A gnarled beard and a knotty spine rose and fell with each breath.
He was much thinner than she remembered. His face was hidden by the dark, but his voice was so familiar—warm and loving.
“Who’s there?” it called out. “Who is it? I can’t see!”
Dinah walked forward and motioned for the guard to bring the lantern over. The prisoner was gaunt, with black circles under his eyes, and the lean look of hunger was etched into his cheeks. His hands shook as he covered his eyes.
“Who is it? Please, no more, I beg of you!”
She was silent for a moment and then bent down and touched his face gently with the palm of her hand. “Harris?”
A cry escaped his lips. “Dinah?” He reached out to touch her bruised face, her blood-soaked hair.
She released a sob. “I’m here.” She took his dear, withered old face in her hands and looked upon it with love. “I am queen now, and you will never set foot in this tower again, old friend.”
Harris cried out again and pressed his cracked lips against her palms. “My child, I knew you were alive. I could feel it! The roots told me that you were alive! They whispered it to me when I slept. I saw you in my dreams. I saw you in a field of mushrooms, saw you take the shape of a crane. . . .”
She did not doubt it for a second. He raised his eyes to hers, and Dinah saw a glimpse of the old Harris, jovial and gay, staring back at her in rapturous joy. She took his arm in hers.
“Will you give me one honor?” he whispered.
“Anything,” she replied.
“Step away from me.”
Dinah stepped back in confusion and Harris very slowly pushed himself up from the stone bench. He stumbled twice, and Dinah reached out to catch him. His legs and chest shook with the effort of standing, but he batted her hands away.
“Do not help me, child!” he said sternly.
Dinah moved away from him, unsure of what to do. Harris gave her a smile with blackened teeth.