“It’s a miracle from the Wonderland gods, my queen,” he said through his sniffled sobs. “Can’t you see?”
Dinah turned her head, her long, braided black hair flopping against her face. “Who is it for? Is it for me? Why does it come? How do I get it? Why is it over the Twisted Wood?”
Harris shrugged. Dinah giggled as her body flopped up and down on his shoulders.
“You have so many impatient questions, Your Majesty! You must wait for the answers to come before rattling off more questions.” He sighed. “Some say that it comes when the weather is just right, when the wind from the Western Slope meets with the wet air from the Darklands and the salty sands of the Todren.”
“But you don’t believe that?”
Harris shook his head. “I believe it’s a gift. A gift for someone who needs it. Just look at it. How could it not be seen as anything but a miracle?” They silently watched it from the palace balcony until it disappeared a few minutes later. Both were left stunned by its massive size and awe-inspiring divinity.
Harris slowly lifted Dinah off his shoulders and put her back down in her feathered bed. But she was too riled up to sit still. She bounced toward the door.
“I’m going to tell Father about the Sky Curtain!”
Harris shook his head. “He’s busy, Princess. Let’s not bother him.”
Dinah let her hand linger on the red glass handle. “He’s not busy. He doesn’t want to see me.”
Harris gathered her under his arm. “Let’s just keep our gift to ourselves, all right?” His eyes wandered down the hallway. “Unfortunately, I have a feeling your father will not see this as a good thing.” Dinah’s eyes filled with tears, but she had listened to her wise guardian.
That following winter was the worst winter that Wonderland had ever seen. Thousands of people froze to death in their houses. Gray corpses littered the street and birds fell from their nests with ice-covered chicks hidden under their wings. Crops had frozen on the vine, and hunger was as widespread as the silent panic. Pink snow covered the palace, burying the doors beneath massive drifts that blew from courtyard to courtyard. Just when it seemed the kingdom could survive no longer, warm summer winds blew down from the Western Slope, thawing the snow and ice, and leaving all of Wonderland to dig themselves out.
Harris had been wrong. The Sky Curtain hadn’t been a gift.
It was a warning.
Dinah pushed against the body on top of her, recognizing his smell immediately—a smell like cream and leaves and horse.
“Wardley, get off me!”
“No.”
She realized in that moment that she would rather die by whatever split the sky than be this close to the man she could never have. It was torture, worse than anything they could ever do to her in the Black Towers. Her voice was muffled as he pushed her head into the dirt. “Get off. It’s an order.”
He stayed still. Finally she pulled the dagger out of her boot and pressed the tip of it gently against his stomach.
“Get off.” She felt his shoulders sag in defeat.
“Dinah . . .”
She crawled out from underneath him and shakily got to her feet. She couldn’t see the Yurkei anymore. They were cut off from her, divided by the Sky Curtain.
She gasped. It couldn’t be. “No.” She took a step closer.
Stretching down from the stars, the midnight-blue curtain divided the line between Yurkei and Spade. It was perhaps a mile across and made of the night sky. It had swallowed the Yurkei’s arrows and the Spade’s ax. It rippled in the wind, like a thick fabric left in front of an open window. Pulled from the sky and cascading down to earth, it brushed the ground in front of Dinah’s feet. It gave the slightest tremor as Dinah came near it, as if it recognized her. She could see her reflection in its glossy surface, while at the same time staring deep into its unfathomable and ancient depths. Within its rippling body, stars blinked back at her, so close that she could touch them. A physical piece of the sky brushed the earth. It was a void, the sky and the heavens all at once, and it was draped at her feet, preventing her two armies from destroying each other.
Beside her, Cheshire was getting to his feet, his always-confident face unmasked with complete disbelief. Starey Belft’s mouth was hanging open as she approached him.
“It’s not the king!” he yelled out, before turning toward the Spades, who had obviously assumed the same. They dropped their weapons in awe. “It’s”—he paused and lowered his voice to an awed whisper—“it’s something I believed I would never see again.” As Dinah raised her eyes, her sword lowered.
“Sweet gods,” she whispered.
The men stayed where they were, rightly terrified of the phenomenon happening in front of them.
Dinah moved forward, fascinated. Somehow, she knew it had come for her.
She stood in front of it now, equally terrified by its godlike presence and seduced by its beauty. Her eyes filled with tears as she wished that Harris could be here, to see the thing that had so touched his heart years ago.
A small thistle by Dinah’s feet blew in the curtain’s soft wind. Celestial bodies spun and moved inside the shifting cloak, their depths unfathomable and ancient. There was no doubt that all of Wonderland could see it, such was its height. The king, wherever he was, was surely looking out at it. It made Dinah glad. She walked closer, taking in its incredible beauty. All sound around her was sucked out of the air, so that the only thing she heard was the slight snapping of the curtain, like a small flag tossed in a breeze.
Far off, someone was screaming, but it was as if they were underwater. “Dinah! Stop! Don’t get too close to it!”
She turned around and saw Cheshire running toward her, his purple cape flapping around him. He held his hand out, waving for her to step back. Sir Gorrann was behind him, hollering swear words at her in two different languages, looking furious, as always. The Spades all stared up at the curtain, their faces contorted with fear and amazement. She smiled. Silly men.
Her eyes followed the dirt back to Wardley, who was sitting on the ground next to Corning, his face pale as he stared at her.
“Don’t . . . Dinah.” He shook his head softly, but Dinah had already turned away.
She dropped her sword and stepped up to the curtain. Though she couldn’t explain it, she knew that she had nothing to fear. Reaching out a steady hand, she dipped her fingers into the curtain. They disappeared for a moment and then they were on the other side, weightless. She turned her hand, feeling everything and nothing. A circular constellation of stars whirled in front of her, just beyond her reach. Time seemed to slow. She felt Cheshire’s hand on the back of her cloak, pulling her away from the curtain. She reached up and undid the feather-shaped clasp around her neck. The cloak fell away from her body, and Dinah stepped inside.
Three