Queen of Hearts Complete Collection: Queen of Hearts; Blood of Wonderland; War of the Cards. Colleen Oakes

       Two

      The Great Hall erupted in a cacophony of sounds, though Dinah sat stunned and speechless. The king’s subjects were screaming and shouting, their tears and applause all dissolving into a wave of happy noise. The king stood still as the crowd rocked and swayed before him. After a few moments, he cleared his throat.

      “There could be no mistake that this girl was mine. She had my golden hair, my blue eyes, and the gentle demeanor of her mother, who sadly met her untimely death at the hands of the Yurkei tribes. Since Vittiore has arrived at the palace, I have done nothing but watch and study her, to see if she is truly mine. She has been inspected and interrogated. Though I believed it in my heart, I did not dare to hope it true—until I spoke with her and saw my own reflection in her eyes. Make no mistake: this is my second daughter, who will join her half sister, Princess Dinah, as the Duchess of Wonderland. I will declare it openly, and let no man say otherwise, for he would call the king false and would spend the rest of his life in the Black Towers!”

      The King of Hearts let his eyes linger on Dinah, kneeling before him, her body frozen in shock.

      “With that, it is my joy and a father’s greatest pleasure to introduce to you the Duchess Vittiore.”

      From behind the king’s throne, a small, luminous girl stepped forth. She was young—perhaps fifteen at the most—but already radiant as the sun. Golden curls the color of honey cascaded to her waist, and her bright blue eyes shimmered with happiness and curiosity, her face perfectly unblemished—a picture of innocence. On top of the nest of curls rested a low crown made of sapphire bluebirds, no doubt crafted recently by the palace jewelers. Her long white-and-blue dress brushed the floor, as if she were a maiden on her wedding day.

      “Darling,” said the king gently. The crowd gasped at her beauty, and one lady-in-waiting fell to her knees with emotion. The king gestured for Vittiore to stand before Dinah. A jealous fury rose in the princess, black and strange. Her hands shook as she gripped the edge of the steps. Her father’s booming speech continued.

      “Many of you have wondered what you are doing here today. There are no wars to fight, no great matters at hand. It is because I wanted my kingdom to know that Wonderland has a new duchess, and the joyous ceremonies to celebrate her arrival may begin!”

      The hall erupted with a deafening cheer and the ground beneath them gave a shudder with the stomping of feet. The sound rose up like a wave, crashing over Dinah, drowning her. She tried to stand, but her body lurched forward so violently that she slipped down two of the marble stairs, her knees and chest hitting the hard stone with a loud crack. Her face flamed red as the entire kingdom watched her—the dark, clumsy princess—who now appeared as a stout donkey next to Vittiore’s shining mare. The king gave a chuckle, but there was maliciousness in his eyes as he grasped Dinah roughly by the arm, yanking her to her feet.

      “Of course, she will join my two other children, Princess Dinah, my oldest, the future Queen of Hearts, and Charles, her younger brother, the pride of my heart.”

      Lies, thought Dinah, willing the hot tears flooding her eyes to stay put. He speaks lies.

      “It is my prayer and my command that this kingdom will embrace my daughter as their new Duchess of Wonderland. If I so much as hear any whispers of the word ‘bastard,’ those men or women will lose their heads to my Heartsword.”

      With a labored breath, Dinah twisted her arm out of her father’s grasp. She could feel the attention of the crowd focus on her, thousands of mouths hungry for gossip watching her every move. Her black eyes shining like simmering coals, she stared down at Vittiore. The waif with the blond hair took a timid step toward Dinah. Dinah watched her warily, unsure what to do. She felt like screaming and hurling something at her, but she didn’t dare. The girl reached out her petite hand.

      “My sister,” she whispered with a hint of pleading. The crowd inhaled. Dinah met the girl’s blue eyes with a furious scowl, and raised her head to the King of Hearts.

      “Thank you, Father. I shall welcome her gladly into our … family.” She choked on her last word. She grabbed the girl’s warm hand in her cold one and gave a hard squeeze. The hall erupted in music and cheers as everyone bowed before the two girls and their father. The king saw that the moment he had been waiting for had arrived.

      “I invite you all to join us for a celebratory dinner feast in the Dining Hall!” he announced.

      The crowd quickly began dispersing, hungry for the piles of tarts and steaming meat that no doubt awaited it. Dinah took a step backward toward the stairs, happy to be released, fearful that her father would see her cry.

      “Not you,” growled the king, pulling her back, his hand clasped tightly around her arm. Dinah let out a whimper.

      “What was that?” he hissed. “Why aren’t you happy to meet your new sister?”

      Dinah spun around to face him. The tears that she had been holding spilled out over her nose and chin. “What about my mother? I thought … I thought … ,” she whispered.

      The king’s face lit up with fury and, muttering angrily, he dragged her away from the eyes of the crowd, back behind the thrones, so large they concealed both of them. He grabbed her chin in his hands and held it close, the scent of wine washing over her face from his hot breath. “I never want you to mention your mother again, not in front of Vittiore. Davianna’s name will not be spoken in these halls.”

      Dinah gave a sharp cry. The king’s face was growing red.

      “STOP IT! STOP CRYING! You need to be glad today, you ungrateful wretch! You have a sister. Be happy.”

      He was shaking her violently now, and she felt her knees begin to buckle. Suddenly, a long, thin hand curled over the king’s shoulder.

      “Your Majesty, allow me to deal with her. Princess Dinah has no doubt had an emotional day. I’m sure this is quite a shock for her.”

      Cheshire, the king’s adviser, slithered into view. His face was long and flexible, as if he had no underlying bone structure. He had thick black hair and black eyes. His pale lips were almost the same shade as his skin; but you never saw them, for they were always curled back in a smile, baring his enormous white teeth. Even when Cheshire was smiling and friendly, he looked dangerous. Lean and sinewy, he towered over the king, radiating malice. He was dressed as he always was, in a plum-colored velvet vest and breeches over black boots. A white sash with each Card symbol draped from his left shoulder to the floor, denoting his authority over all the Cards. There was no one above Cheshire but the king. A brilliant purple cloak poured over his hard shoulders.

      Dinah stared up at Cheshire with confusion. He was never her ally; rather, he was a man who constantly whispered twisted secrets in her father’s ear. The rumors of his extracurricular activities ran rampant in the castle. Some said he spent time in a secret laboratory in the Black Towers, making new species of birds and concocting poisons. Some said he could change forms and wandered the castle all night disguised as a house cat. Dinah had always passed that off as commoner silliness, but now she wasn’t so sure. There was a compelling strangeness about him, something that drew her toward his silky promises. Still, she hated him and always had. She blamed him for her father’s hatred of her.

      Cheshire’s voice was gentle as he released the king’s fingers from Dinah’s shoulders. “I’ll take her back to her quarters. Perhaps Princess Dinah isn’t feeling up to a feast today.”

      The king walked away from her without a second glance and curled his arm protectively around Vittiore, who had stood silently through the exchange. She stared back at Dinah with empty eyes.

      “Yes, Cheshire. That sounds good. Take her away. Get her out of my sight.”

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