Queen of Hearts Complete Collection: Queen of Hearts; Blood of Wonderland; War of the Cards. Colleen Oakes
the king’s pride and joy, especially Morte. Morte—the bringer of death.
It was Morte who stared down at Dinah now as she passed, steam hot enough to burn skin hissing out of his nostrils. Generous muscles danced under his shimmering black hide—so black it was almost blue. He was larger than the other two white Hornhooves and was rumored to be a particularly bloodthirsty beast—relentless and crueler than most of his kind. The Yurkei tribe had tamed them for generations, and they were bred to be fearless soldiers—the ultimate war horse, virtually unstoppable and very rare. Many a man had died under their hooves, either torn to pieces on their spiked hooves or crushed by their awesome weight. The beasts were so massive that Dinah’s spread hand could be swallowed by one of Morte’s cavernous black nostrils.
Morte walked to the end of his stall as she moved past, his heavy hooves shaking the ground beneath him. The Hornhooves made Dinah nervous, and she walked faster toward the stables’ outside rim, where the lame and the weak horses were kept, still useful for plowing or load bearing. She clicked her tongue and waited for Speckle to come to the edge of his stall.
As a child, Dinah had named him—her black-and-white spotted gelding—Speckle, for he reminded her of a speckle of rain upon her window. He was a kind and gentle horse. Rarely did he do more than trot happily, eat heartily, and bestow sloppy kisses across Dinah’s hand. He gave a joyful whinny upon her approach, and she produced an apple from under her cloak. Speckle snatched it up with a happy neigh, his soft horse lips dancing over her hand.
“Do you think I came just to see you?” she whispered to Speckle, scratching his ear. “Sweet horse.” She gave him a friendly pat and headed deeper into the outer ring. Poor Speckle, she thought, he is definitely not the reason I visit the stables this day and every day. An unsteady blush blotched its way up her pale cheeks. Wardley now spent most of his time training the horses and the Cards; therefore, Dinah was spending more and more time with the horses as well.
Wardley Ghane was training to be the next Knave of Hearts—a fancy title for the commander of the Heart Cards, but to Dinah, he was so much more than that. Tall, with long brown curls that brushed the top of his bold eyebrows, Wardley Ghane was as devastatingly handsome as he was skilled. He rode his ebony saddle as if he had been born atop a horse, and he could pull a blade from his belt with the greatest of ease. He was a fearsome warrior, a proud bearer of the king’s coat of arms, and a deft Card who could navigate the politics and pitfalls that would inevitably come with ruling over the Heart Cards at such a young age. He was being trained by Xavier Juflee, the current Knave of Hearts, who was widely known as the best swordsman in all Wonderland.
Wardley was the king’s favorite of all his young Cards, and maybe someday, Dinah hoped, something much more. She longed to make Wardley her husband, which would make him the King of Hearts beside her. The line of succession decreed that when a king and a queen ruled on the throne, they ruled until death, or until they gave up their throne. If a king or queen died while ruling—as Davianna had—then the firstborn child of that union, upon his or her eighteenth year, would rule beside the widowed parent until the child married. At that time, the older king or queen would give up the throne, and the newly married rulers would take the throne together. Gazing at Wardley’s face, Dinah longed for the day when her father would step down to her husband. Much to Dinah’s surprise, it seemed the day she turned sixteen, Wardley began to make her heart clench in want with each lazy smile, each friendly hug. She looked at him and wanted more of him—she wanted all of him. The change in her demeanor generally bewildered him, so she tried to keep her fawning to a minimum when they were together; but at night she lay in her bed, imagining his lips on hers, the weight of his body pressed against her. His name was always on the tip of her lips, her desire for him unbridled. She loved him and, in a way, always had. He waited for her now, munching on a handful of berries in the shadow of the palace, already mounted on his dazzling white steed when Dinah emerged from the stalls.
He deftly adjusted his cloak and armor, as he was already suited up for his training with the Cards. On the breast of his white uniform sat a red square with a black heart upon it, the king’s blazon. Corning, his blindingly white horse, gave a slight buck as Dinah’s black cloak leaped in the winter wind.
“Whooaa there.” Wardley tugged his red reins before smiling down at Dinah. “He sees you almost every day, and yet that black cloak always makes him jumpy.” He reached down and patted Dinah’s braid. “You look nice today!”
She felt a heat rush through her body, warming her to the tips of her toes.
“What are you doing out here on this freezing morning?”
Dinah gave a shrug. “It’s not that cold. You’ve never been a winter person. I like winter. Here, I brought you warm tarts.”
Dinah removed the steaming pastries from the folds of her cloak. The raspberry jam had already leaked through the cheesecloth, and its scent filled the yard.
Wardley licked his lips. “Oh, Dinah, you are too good. This is just what I needed. You’re incredible, you know that?” He took the pastry from her hand and shoved it eagerly into his mouth in one terribly messy bite. Powdered sugar dusted his top lip. Dinah smiled shyly as she circled a pink heart in the snow with her boot. Seeing Wardley was sometimes the only happy part of her entire day.
“My father came to see me this morning.”
“And he was horrible to you, as always?” As Wardley spoke, puffs of tart flew out of his mouth and floated down onto Corning. Dinah gave Wardley an amused smile.
“Must you always eat as if you were starving?” She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and handed it up to him.
He wiped his mouth and smiled. “Sorry. If you must know, I am always starving.”
“You know my father—he would have to speak to me to be horrible. He came in, had some angry words with Harris, and stormed out, but not before he threw my tray of food on the floor.”
Wardley stopped eating and narrowed his eyes. “And then you gave the tarts to me?”
Dinah smiled, her white teeth gleaming against the pink snow. “No. Those are fresh from the kitchen. I threw away the food—well, rather, Emily did.”
That was the short version of the story. Really, Dinah cowered in a corner while her father shouted at Harris all the things that Dinah was doing wrong and the depth of his disappointment in her. She wasn’t pretty, she was stupid, she wasn’t a lady, she wasted her time daydreaming and exploring the castle, she was horrible at croquet, she was unfit to rule … As the king struck Harris with his huge open hand, Dinah withered onto the floor. When the king turned on her, she covered her face and spun away. Her father left with a disgusted sneer. His rages came more and more frequently now, it seemed. When she was a child, he had always been cold and distant, but begrudgingly polite. Now, he openly hated her in front of her servants. The King of Hearts was still cordial in public, but his seething loathing was like a black undercurrent, sucking the color out of every party and public gathering of the royal family. Dinah avoided him at all costs, and even Harris and Emily had learned to stay far away from the King of Hearts and his fiery temper.
Back in the stables, Dinah sat down on an overturned bucket with a huff. “I hate him. He’s terrible.”
Wardley dismounted his horse with one smooth kick of his leg and wrapped his free arm around Dinah, the other holding fast to his practice sword. “I know your father isn’t a great father all the time.”
“Or ever,” replied Dinah sullenly. “He’s not the way a father is supposed to be. He’s not anything like your father.”
Wardley gave an understanding smile. Unlike Dinah, he adored his gentle father. “I know. But the king must love you; I’m sure he does … in his own horrible way. Ruling Wonderland isn’t for the fainthearted, and the crown weighs heavy, you know that. You are his daughter, his only viable heir, and someday he will see you for the …” He seemed at a loss for words. He patted her cheek lightly, and Dinah stopped breathing. “For the fierce woman that you will become. The Queen of Hearts.