Blood of Wonderland Read online

  “But, as you know, the man you have called father for so long is a rapacious and obsessive man. He was sure that you were not his child, and was convinced that you could never follow him to the throne because you would soon marry and either banish or execute him. He told me of an idea that he had been thinking of for a long time, the idea that he would create his own heir, the heir he had always wanted. He needed to find a child about the same age as his daughter. A girl, for a boy would be prone to rebellion. What he needed was someone who could be his puppet, someone who he could control without problems arising. As his adviser, I warned him against the idea, but I had long suspected that he would never put you on the throne. I did all I could to keep him away from you, but his rage and paranoid delusions were growing, though he kept them concealed behind an infuriating mask of contempt. I could never risk my position as adviser. So I agreed to help him find his little princess.

  “The king told his council that he was going off on a hunt, but instead we rode hard for the outer villages on the lower Western Slope—isolated sea towns where we would go unnoticed. On our way there, we chanced upon a small hut, far outside of any town or village. A woman and a girl were making necklaces out of seashells. The girl was breathtakingly beautiful, ethereal almost, and most important, she had yellow hair the exact same color as the king’s. That night the king burned a small heart on to her back to remind her who he was, and rode homeward with her strapped to Morte’s back. A few Cards followed behind with her mother, Faina Baker, and threw her in the Black Towers upon their arrival to Wonderland proper. The girl was christened Vittiore—a noble name—and put in front of the court as his long-lost daughter.

  “That day I realized your life was even more in danger than I had previously thought, and that the closer you got to your coronation, the more the king would try to get rid of you—either that or try to persuade you to give up your rightful throne. That would never work. Even as a child, you longed to be queen.”

  He grinned as he began stirring the tea. Steam curled out of the cup, a dark red.

  “Your thirst for power matches my own. I showed you the tunnels that afternoon, for it was all I could do at that moment to help you. Someday, I thought to myself, you would have need of them. I started trying to clue you in to the king’s motivations, to the fact that a vast conspiracy to crown Vittiore was growing around you, one that I was a part of—but I undermined it whenever I could. The king made his stance known during the Royal Croquet Game, and I knew it wasn’t long before he would try to have you murdered or exiled. I passed you a note at the dinner that evening, in a small bottle. It might seem coy, but I wanted you to figure it out on your own. After all, I knew my daughter to be intelligent and curious, just like me.”

  Dinah’s throat was dry and stinging, her eyes filled with tears. This couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be.

  “I shouldn’t have worried. Using the tunnels, you made your way to the Black Towers and discovered the truth about Vittiore, even if you didn’t put it together right away, for by then Faina Baker had gone mad. The king was hungry for a shift in power, and once he learned of your excursion to the Black Towers, he decided to behead Faina. It was a message for you, but its true purpose was to remind Vittiore of what would happen if she ever rebelled against him. It was unthinkably cruel, but it was a well-instructed lesson to both of you to stay out of his way.

  “By then a sort of madness had overtaken the king, and he began muttering dark, violent things. I worried for your safety. I pressed the king to reveal his plans to me, but he refused. Even his most trusted advisers remained in the dark.”

  Dinah’s hands were gripping the tablecloth, her nails tearing through the thin fabric. Her world was collapsing, inside and outside. Her watery eyes made the stars look like they were falling. She stopped breathing. She stared at Cheshire as he continued, but all she saw was Charles.

  Cheshire blew on the steaming mug.

  “On the night of your brother’s murder, I was out meeting with some colleagues who lived in the court just outside the palace—Lords Delmont and Sander, I’m sure you know them.”

  Dinah nodded impatiently.

  “I returned late, much past the midnight hour. The king burst into my chamber, unannounced and covered with blood. He was hysterical. I calmed him down but could not hide my horror when he told me that he had just thrown Charles from a window and murdered Lucy and Quintrell. He said that he was going to frame you, so that you might never ascend to the throne. Instead, it would be off with your head, or you would be thrown into the Black Towers for the remainder of your life. As he rocked himself by the window, muttering of justice and how your mother’s bastard would be tried for her crimes, I knew that every moment of my life had boiled down to this one. How could I help save my daughter without revealing the truth to the king?

  “I told the king to change, bathe, and gather his Cards to help apprehend you. I ran—how I ran—first to the kitchens and then to the weapons room. I knew you would never survive without food in the wild. You were raised in a palace that gave you everything you ever needed. After I packed your bag, I ran to your room, where I knocked Harris and Emily unconscious. For a few seconds, I watched you sleeping—my daughter, the pride of my heart, with a face like her mother’s and a fierce intelligence not unlike my own. I had never seen you so close, so perfect, the blood of my veins sleeping before me. I vowed I would do whatever it took to help you survive. Then you awoke . . . and tried to kill me.”

  He gave a chuckle, and Dinah remembered the horror of waking up to the dark shrouded figure in her room. Cheshire took a sip of the tea. “Ah, perfect. A lovely Scarlet Cloud.

  “Though you did not follow my exact directions, you did escape, and in what grand fashion! You left behind a bloody mess, you stole your father’s Hornhoov and then outran him and his army in a chase that the peasants will be talking about a hundred years from now!” He clapped his hands with glee. “I couldn’t have planned it better myself. After you left, the king quickly declared you a traitor to the realm and placed the crown on Vittiore’s head. The coronation was the biggest that Wonderland had ever seen, and I believe she was glad to receive the crown. The king left immediately after to resume the hunt for you, and it was the opportunity I had been waiting for. A chance to find you, to make sure that you were surviving in the Twisted Wood.

  “Whispered sources told me of a Spade tracker that had a long-standing grudge against the king, and I sought him out. I made a deal with your Sir Gorrann. He would track you down—with the king in tow—but would find you beforehand and take you deep into the Yurkei Mountains, where you would be safe from the king. He tracked you a little too fast but as you can see, he kept you safe, fed, and began training you to fight.”

  Cheshire rubbed the front of his neck where Dinah had poked him with the dagger. A smile played across his face. “I joined the king on this mission to hunt you down, and as soon as I knew that you were safely in Sir Gorrann’s care, I quietly took my leave from the king’s side and followed an alternate path up to Hu-Yuhar, but not before I convinced him to abandon his chase and return to Wonderland Palace.” He absentmindedly fingered his sparkling brooch.

  “I saw you in the darkness that night, standing still in the black dress I had packed for you. I was proud that you had used it so well, and so furious that you would put yourself at that much risk, all for a chance at revenge. Please forgive me for my delay.” He gestured to the elaborate table. “One would not call me a light packer. But, finally, here we are, father and daughter, reunited at last, without secrets or lies between us. I have longed for this moment.

  “Tea, my daughter?”

  He handed the cup to her. Dinah took it with trembling fingers.

  Dinah’s voice caught in her throat. She wanted to throw herself at him, to take his life, to beat him, to embrace him, to weep and laugh, all at once. She felt nauseated and dizzy, confused and elated. It was too much. She could barely strangle out a single bitter sen
tence as she set the cup down. “Why are you here?”

  His fingers stopped moving against his cup and he cautiously stood and walked slowly over to Dinah. Kneeling before her, he bowed his jet-black head in the moonlight and then looked up at her, his white smile stretching wide over his thin face.

  “Why? Because you are my daughter, the pride and purpose of my life, and I have come to aid you as you reclaim the throne in Wonderland. Why? Because you are the true heir of Queen Davianna, and your claim to the throne is stronger than Vittiore’s, who is a pauper, related to no one. I will help you take your vengeance against the king, with a mighty army of the Yurkei behind you. Why? Because you were born to wear the crown, and I will not see Davianna’s daughter slowly waste away in the Yurkei Mountains. Dinah, you must conquer.”

  Without warning, he pressed his lips to her hand, and Dinah felt a wave of revulsion wash over her. She yanked her hand back as if she had been burned. Tea sloshed over the table.

  Cheshire stood and walked to the end of the table, where he gently picked up a covered silver cake platter. He set it in front of Dinah’s chair. “A gift for my daughter.”

  “I don’t want to see it.”

  “You must.”

  Shaking, Dinah lifted the lid. Underneath it was her princess crown—the gold and ruby crown, a ring of hearts that blazed like fire. The crown she had left behind. Cheshire picked up the crown and lowered it onto her head. She had forgotten how solid it was, how its points dug into her skull, and the flush of happiness she felt when it rested heavily on her temples. The lanterns in the trees flickered, and she heard the rustling of a crane’s wings overhead. She looked down at Cheshire, now kneeling in front of her. His black eyes met hers, a mirror image. Her enemy, her father?

  His voice boomed through the trees. “Rise, Dinah, and become the Queen of Hearts. It is time to embrace your fate.”

  The night held its breath. Dinah looked at him, his black eyes glittering in the starlight. The Scarlet Cloud rose out of her teacup, blurring her vision red.

  Embrace your fate.

  She ran.

  Ten

  The once Princess of Wonderland crashed through the brush. Twigs and branches broke as she plunged through the Yurkei orchard, far away from Cheshire, far away from everything he had said. Her breath was loud and jagged, full of pain and confusion.

  Sharp branches ripped at her arms and legs, their thorns piercing her soft flesh as she rushed past. The dark branches arched their spindly arms overhead as Dinah escaped deeper into the orchard. There were strange blue lights flickering in the trees, but then again, what wasn’t strange in Wonderland? Something large sailed over her head, and Dinah heard the cry of a crane as she raced through a bramble bush, her legs moving faster than she had ever known they could.

  It didn’t take long for her to come to the end of the orchard, and when she emerged from the trees, she was surprised to see a sheer cliff face rising up before her, looking like bone in the white moonlight. Dinah buried her face in her hands as she gradually remembered where she was: the Yurkei valley, surrounded by mountains. There was nowhere else to go but up. She looked around for a few minutes before spotting the winding path that Sir Gorrann had mentioned in passing. It was steep, looping over on itself as it snaked its way up the mountain, narrow and well-worn. Dinah found herself running up the path without consideration. She just needed to flee, to anywhere, to anything. It was all too much. The path climbed higher into the sky, until Dinah was surrounded by a thick white mist that clouded her vision. She pressed her back against the wall and continued her crablike climb until the ghostly mist gave way to cool air.

  Dinah was out of breath when she reached the top of the cliff face. She swayed on her feet and was surprised to find herself toeing the line of consciousness. The healed wound on her shoulder ached and pulsed with each frayed inhale, and Dinah found herself heaving onto the pebbly ground. She rested her head on the cool stone for a few minutes, focusing on breathing normally again. Wiping her mouth, she pushed off her knees and looked around.

  She was truly alone. The ground before her was flat and made of stone—a circular platform carved from the mountain that dropped into air on each side. Small etchings had been carved into the ground, tiny little marks that told an ancient story of sacrifice and redemption. They were the religious markings of the Yurkei tribe. She ran her fingers lightly over them. Harris would have loved to see this. He found the Yurkei religion fascinating. Dinah lifted her eyes and looked out past the edge of the stone circle. She could see the entire Yurkei valley if she stood on one side; the floating white tents attached to the side of the mountain, each of them emitting a dim glow. The great stone birds stood erect and silent with Mundoo’s tent suspended between them. The flowing creek behind the tents gurgled contentedly. It was a quiet night in Hu-Yuhar, and the only noises came from the herds of wild horses playing below, their happy whinnies soothing to her ears.

  Dinah let her eyes wander to the northernmost part of the valley, and they rested upon the subtly lit orchard where Cheshire had waited for her, his long hands clasping a teacup. He was still there, no doubt biding his time before he could crush everything she knew into a fine powder, like the sugar that dusted his brooch. Cheshire, her father? Dinah pressed her hands against the unyielding stone. Could this be true? And if it was? Should she be grateful that her own father did not try to kill her but rather saved her life? Or should she be furious that her entire life was a well-orchestrated lie? The truth had been kept from her, not only by Cheshire but by her own mother, the only person who truly loved her. Her mother, Davianna, who had loved Cheshire and betrayed the king. Dinah imagined her mother’s soft hands wrapped around Cheshire’s neck as they danced in the Great Hall, those same hands that had always caressed Dinah’s face so lovingly. . . . Dinah shook her head to clear the image. Was this just another of Cheshire’s games? It was possible, but there was an unmistakable thrumming in her heart that told her it was not.

  Part of her wished that she had slit his throat before he could speak. Or did she? Dinah didn’t know what she wanted. Her emotions whirled, a churning storm inside her. Was she to become a grateful, doting daughter? The warrior he had been training her to become? An exiled princess, a Yurkei prisoner? Was she full of rage like the man she believed to be her father, or full of grace like Charles, her half brother? If she was not the daughter of the King of Hearts but the daughter of Cheshire, a traitor—what was she now? Who was she now?

  “Who would you have me be?” she angrily called to the stars, tonight all circling around one singular bright star that lingered lazily over the mountains. Her voice rose to a strained yell, choked with emotion. “I said, who would you have me be?”

  “I think yeh know,” answered a familiar voice.

  Dinah didn’t bother to turn around. “How did you find me?” she sniffed.

  He gave a gruff laugh. “I’m a tracker, remember? It wasn’t exactly hard—there was nowhere else for yeh to go but up. Yer in a damn valley.” She lowered her eyes, refusing to look at him. “You best not go any farther though, lest Mundoo think you are trying to escape.”

  She spun around to face him. “You work for Cheshire. You betrayed me. You lied to me.”

  Sir Gorrann walked up beside her, and Dinah heard the crunch of his heavy boots echoing over the cavernous drop. “I never lied to yeh. Yeh never really asked about Cheshire. Did he hire me to find yeh? Indeed. And did I? Yes. I saved yer life, girl, and I would save it again. When Cheshire came to me, he dangled a promise: if I was to find yeh, I would get to see for myself that the king was brought to justice, hopefully by yer hand. Not only that, but I would see him stripped of all power and pride. That is what I long for—for him to suffer as I have suffered. Only his wayward daughter could give it to me.”

  He paused and scratched at his beard as he stared at Dinah, framed by the bright stars. “Though it pains me to tell yeh . . . truth be told, after a while, things changed. Dinah, I’ve gr
own a bit fond of yeh, and I’ll fight beside yeh, whatever yeh decide.” He looked gently into her eyes, his face etched with the love of a father.

  “Yeh remind me of my Ioney, if she had been given the chance to live. Yer fierce and strong, full of rash emotion. Hear me that my loyalty is to yeh, and yeh alone. If yeh ask me to kill him”—he gestured his head toward the orchard below, to Cheshire—“I will. Though, keep in mind, he might get me first. Cheshire is already four steps ahead of wherever you think you are. Listen to me, girl: don’t ever underestimate that man. And don’t blindly trust him either.”

  Sir Gorrann paused before shivering once. “If we’re going to be chattin’ awhile, I’m building a fire. It’s cold as a proper lady’s bed up here.”

  Dinah pulled her knees into her chest and shivered as she stared at the whitewashed valley that stretched out toward the east. “That man—you mean my father?” Sir Gorrann did not reply but instead made quick work building a small fire against the night chill from a dried bird’s nest. His skill was enviable, and soon warm flames crackled and hissed as they sat together in silence.

  Finally, Dinah spoke, her voice breaking with emotional exhaustion. “What does he want me to do?”

  Sir Gorrann shifted on the ground and withdrew a pipe. “Isn’t it obvious? He wants yeh to take what’s yers. Yer mother’s throne at Wonderland Palace. He wants yeh to rule.”

  “And what do you want?”

  Sir Gorrann blew a stream of smoke into the air, the tail end smelling of horses and sweet leaves. “I want yeh to do what yeh believe is right. I long for the king to be brought to justice, but I’ll bring him to justice one way or another, now or twenty years from now, either at yer side or by some other means. I’ll not make yeh carry my burden.”