Queen of Hearts Complete Collection: Queen of Hearts; Blood of Wonderland; War of the Cards. Colleen Oakes
could barely tolerate some days. Her face was soft cream, made even dewier by her deep red lips. They formed a perfect pout—a little heart on a strong face. Her black-brown eyes were huge and fringed with long lashes—arguably her best asset. Yes, strong, she thought, twisting her body around. Strong like my father and dark like my mother.
Dinah was a bit leaner than the average Wonderland woman. She had firm, square shoulders, like a man. Her middle was solid, her legs squat. There was no curve from her bust to her waist—she was one solid square, topped with an ample bosom, more small melons than the ripe peaches described in Emily’s tawdry novels. Tarts had added a bit of softness to her chin as of late, but Dinah was still attractive, or at least that’s what she told herself. Not pretty or delicate like Vittiore, but perhaps handsome.
A Card had once called her handsome, and Dinah had cried for days, but now she could see it. Her mother had been broad but voluptuous, and for this reason her hourglass figure still graced many a painting. Her long black hair had reached the ground, and she carried her crown with great ease and beauty. Davianna had been so elegant in gowns and crowns, whereas Dinah always felt more like one of the ridiculous birds that Charles so frequently pinned onto hats.
“You cannot make my waist any smaller without killing me,” she snapped at Emily.
Emily laid her slipper against Dinah’s back to brace herself and gave a final tug. The bone ribbing ripped into Dinah’s side, and she let out a gasp of pain.
“There,” said Emily, with a self-satisfied smile. “Now I’m done, Your Highness.”
She fetched Dinah’s gown and draped it carefully over her head. The thick gray wool fell around Dinah like a curtain, hanging heavily over every inch of her. The gown was lovely in a severe way, with hundreds of gray fabrics mingling together in an elaborate tweed. A large red heart arched over her shoulders and down the back of the dress, its top folds meeting at her collarbone. White ribbons ran up and down the heart in delicate ruffles. Bright raspberry hearts dotted the full hem of the dress.
Emily buttoned the dress up the back and began working on Dinah’s hair. She swept it away from Dinah’s face, twisting and twisting until a voluminous bun decorated the back of her head. Long, silver heart pins were stuck into the bun, which was then covered with a red, jeweled hair net. Harris came over, carrying a crystal box.
“No,” said Dinah. “No, no, no.”
Harris ignored her and opened the box, pulling out a long purple brush. With a smile, he began brushing a thin, white powder over her face with the long-handled bristle brush. Dinah sneezed, and they were enveloped in a dusty cloud.
“A princess should not struggle so,” reprimanded Harris. “You should be thrilled to be a part of this honorable tradition. What a gift it would be to play on the Royal Court.” He stepped back with a sigh and summoned Emily to his side. “Bring the crown.”
Emily slowly settled Dinah’s thin crown onto her head. The unbroken line of red ruby hearts shimmered like fire upon her dark hair and powdered white skin. Harris gave a deep bow, though Dinah saw his legs quake with the effort. He was growing older, and it saddened her so.
“My future queen. You are so beautiful. It brings me such pride to see you as a woman.”
Dinah caught his hand and pulled him up, taking in his kind round face. “My dearest friend. Someday I will be queen and you will never have to bow again. You will spend your days eating tarts and leaning on pillows while other servants see to your every need.”
Harris gave a sly smile. “Your reign will be wonderful, I’m sure, but I would hope that Your Highness could find better uses for me than lounging on pillows. Perhaps an advisory position on the council.”
“Perhaps.”
Dinah heard the brassy blare of a single trumpet from outside her balcony. The royal family was being summoned for the game.
The Croquet Lawn was in the very center of the palace yard—a perfectly coiffed square of bright green surrounded by the impassive towers of Wonderland Palace. Looming piles of pink snow had been shoveled into giant mountains that bordered the sides of the green, and the lawn itself looked as lush as it would on a hot summer day instead of the end of winter. Sturdy wooden steps on three sides of the lawn provided ample seating for the hundreds of lords and ladies of the court. On lower wooden stands, thousands of townspeople gazed down on the players. From there they could admire, gossip, and pass judgment on everyone—a favorite pastime during the Royal Croquet Game.
Dinah waited on one side of the lawn, flanked by Harris and twelve Heart Cards who stood at the ready to assist her. The Master of the Games bowed before Dinah and then beckoned her forward. Dinah took a deep breath and murmured a silent prayer that this would be over quickly. Musicians, shoved on top of each other in an elaborately decorated box, raised their long trumpets and blasted out a three-note greeting. Dinah lifted her strong chin and walked out onto the field. There was a polite wave of clapping as she approached the green, her gray dress brushing the sharp blades of grass.
When she got to the middle of the lawn, she looked around with surprise. If she was to play Vittiore she should have been already waiting, in the correct order of hierarchy. Dinah felt a bolt of joy rush through her—perhaps this meant Vittiore would not be joining them! It would be Dinah and her father, playing singles. Her heart gave a weak flutter of hope. Perhaps her father would see that she was a worthy daughter, his strong heir. She would play her best, Dinah told herself, without any whining or boasting. She would be a picture-perfect vision of the future queen.
The Master of the Games sauntered up and handed Dinah a long wooden mallet shaped like a flamingo, the official palace bird. Dinah liked the heavy weight of the mallet in her palm. These mallets were carved from trees of the Twisted Wood. Crystallized and ancient, these trees took months to chop through, and because of that, only one was able to be felled per year. Its wood was sold at the highest prices in Wonderland proper, fetching a hundredfold more than normal wood. Soldiers wanted it for their sword hilts, farmers for their plows, women for their kitchen spoons. The only part of the tree that wasn’t sold was used for the croquet mallets for the royal family.
Dinah waited now, whacking the heavy mallet impatiently against her leg until she heard the trumpets roar for the second time. Biting her lip, Dinah gave an elaborate bow in anticipation of her father. As her eyes surveyed the ground, she heard an intake of breath from the crowd. Her black eyes wandered up, expecting to see her father in all his grandeur, but instead she saw a vision of sweeping beauty. A wave of disappointment passed through her. Vittiore had floated out onto the court. Her long gown was made of several hundred layers of chiffon in creamy, shimmering shades: peach, rose, and lemon all blended together into an exquisite loveliness. Her golden hair had been curled into plump ringlets that cascaded down her back. On her head was a Mad Hatter pillbox hat adorned with white coq feathers. They were attached with a large gemstone the size and color of a peach.
Hot rage boiled up inside of her, and Dinah’s mallet dropped from her hand. It was her mother’s brooch. Dinah had loved that brooch as a child, often pretending it was an actual peach as she toddled around her mother’s bedroom. Vittiore gave Dinah a polite bow and whispered her courtesies. “Your Highness. You look lovely in gray.”
Dinah took a menacing step toward Vittiore. “Is that a joke?” she asked through clenched teeth.
Vittiore looked bewildered. “No?”
With one sure step, Dinah thought, I could plant my ruby slippers into her pretty face.
“Ah, I see the princess is anxious to begin the game.” Cheshire, clothed in dazzling purple, slithered around Dinah and Vittiore, putting himself between them. “The Royal Croquet Game, Your Highness and Your Grace, must always be played with dignity. I should remind you both that the entire kingdom is watching.” While he quietly berated them, his black eyes lingered only on Dinah, who bit down on her lip until she felt a tiny drop of blood on her tongue.
She earnestly smiled up at him. “Of course, Sir Cheshire.