“That is the reality of being queen. You can make people disappear. The kingdom hinges on your actions, and therefore when the wheel needs to be turned in your favor, it will be. Now, on to other business . . .”
Dinah smacked his teacup and sent it shattering to the floor. “Other business? Other business? I murdered her! I killed her, with my own hands.”
“You have killed many with your own hands, or have you forgotten the battle? Or even before that? What about the Heart Cards that you slew as you fled the castle? Faina Baker, who died because of you? Or the Yurkei warriors that Morte killed? The King of Hearts? How many, Dinah, have you killed? Your hands are hardly clean.”
“Those were different.”
“How so? Most of those people you killed to get your crown. War is a brutal act, and many innocents die in the cross fire. Vittiore stood between you and your future happiness with Wardley. You long to crown him king, gods know why, and she had manipulated his affections. There will always be bodies that litter your road to power. Every ruler has secrets.”
“I did not want to start my rule with secrets. I don’t want to be like him.”
Cheshire stroked his beard. “Take heart that you are more like me than him. So, shall we lie in bed and cry for days about it? Or will you rise and rule? Today is just another day, my queen.”
Dinah was staring at her hands again, at the half-moons of dried blood stuck underneath her fingernails.
“Leave me alone.”
“Your Majesty.”
“Get out!” she screamed.
Cheshire’s eyes clouded over with disappointment, and he stalked toward the door. At the last moment, he whirled around. “Don’t forget, she was nothing more than a fisherman’s daughter from the Western Slope. In her heart, Vittiore was a peasant. A very pretty, poor little peasant named Alice. Her life is worth nothing compared to your crown, one that many of us have worked hard to get upon your stubborn head.”
The heavy door slammed behind him, and for the first time in a very long time, Dinah was completely alone.
Days passed in darkness. Dinah drew the shades and rarely strayed from her bed. Harris tried to coax her to move and to bathe, but she was haunted by her memories. Wardley’s screams. The feel of the blade as it cut through Alice’s neck. The finality in her eyes when she stared at Dinah. The way she and Wardley had been lying, so tangled up in each other. The musky smell of their passion that lingered in the air like smoke. Her name, Alice, so sweet and lovely, so fitting for the girl. Vittiore had been nothing more than a grand title bestowed by the King of Hearts, who found “Alice” to be simple and plain, unbefitting a queen. Dinah’s dreams were filled with her, and she was vaguely aware that Alice would occupy each dream she ever dreamed again.
Ki-ershan returned, but his love for Dinah had obviously changed. He was distant—still her protector, but no longer her friend. He did not speak unless spoken to and soon faded into the very walls he stood against.
Harris counseled her, talked with her, prayed with her. But even his patience had a limit, and Dinah was frequently left alone with her thoughts. Alice drifted around her like a ghost, and Dinah became convinced that she was being haunted. She frequently found herself sitting up at night, shocked out of sleep by a malicious presence.
“Who’s there?” Dinah would wave the candle around her room. “Alice? Is that you?”
But the room never revealed anyone, and Dinah would lie back in bed, soaked with sweat, delirious, and very afraid. She ate only to live but not to enjoy. She took to drinking bottles of wine in the evening to help bring on sleep, but found herself visited by more and more terrors the emptier the bottle became. Everywhere, she saw the people she had killed. Men on the battlefield. The Heart Cards. Faina. Alice.
Dinah became convinced that nothing would ever change and she would die here alone, a bitter and defeated queen. She’d be loved by no one, as guilty as the King of Hearts, and never be the leader she was born to become.
Through her waking hours she heard Iu-Hora’s words echoing in her head like a chorus: You will cut out the heart of the one you love most. So she had. And in the process, she had become mad. Mad like her brother, the Mad Hatter. The Mad Queen of Hearts, holed up in her palace.
Dinah was lying motionless in her bed when Sir Gorrann kicked down the door to her bedroom, letting in painfully bright streams of light.
“Get up.” He yanked back her curtains and opened the doors to the balcony, letting in the early autumn breeze.
“Go away.”
“Yeh stink like hell. Come on.” He roughly tugged Dinah out of bed before shoving her toward the bath. “Here’s what going to happen. Yer going to take a bath, put on yer clothes and yer crown, and then yeh are going to come with me to the council meeting.”
“I—I can’t,” stammered Dinah. “You don’t know what I did.”
“I do know. Harris told me yer a murderous bitch, that’s for sure! But yer also my queen, and it’s time to rule.” He stood before her closet, bewildered. “My gods. Which of these frocks does a queen wear? How about this nice, eh, peachy one? This is peach, right?”
“Black, red, or white,” answered Dinah glumly. Any other colors would remind her of Alice, always.
He flung a deep-cranberry gown onto her dresser. Dinah looked away from it. The color reminded her of blood, of a head rolling on the floor. “Get out of my room.”
“Not a chance. Yer going to get dressed and go to council, and then yer going to rule yer kingdom. Otherwise Cheshire is going to take over; in fact, he already has. He’s talking about imprisoning all the king’s former advisers. . . .”
Dinah lifted her head. “What?”
“Yes, he’s saying that they couldn’t possibly be loyal to you, and so we should throw them into the Black Towers. . . .”
Dinah stood. “I will never throw anyone else into the Black Towers. And I appointed those men to my council. He has no right to remove them.”
“Yes, well, yer words mean very little to Cheshire. And to be honest, since yeh can’t be bothered to oversee yer kingdom, then he might as well.”
“But without those advisers, we might not have the support of the court. And without the support of the court, we could be vulnerable to a rebellion. Not that a rebellion of clucking ladies in expensive dresses couldn’t be easily quashed, but still—why would he want that? Why would he want to divide the council?”
Sir Gorrann grumbled, “These questions are why yeh should get dressed.”
Dinah did. She washed and put on her makeup, something that Vittiore—no, Alice—normally did. Sir Gorrann placed the crown on her head, and Dinah stared back at herself in the mirror.
“I don’t deserve it,” she said quietly.
Sir Gorrann let his hand linger on her back. “Nope, yeh don’t. Not after what yeh did. But maybe now yeh can earn it. Yeh’ll have to start at the beginning, make yerself new.”
“I will,” she whispered.
She glanced at Ki-ershan, who stood silently beside her. “I will, I promise.”