The elderly knight tugs his horse toward us. “Your Majesty?”
“I would ask that you ensure Dr. Frankenstein does not dismount.”
Halwyn’s armor clinks as he salutes me. “Yes, my lady.”
Victor’s cheeks flame red. He hisses my name under my breath, but I am not going to apologize for wishing his safety.
“I need you with us in battle.” I settle onto my saddle. “Mary and Finn will need you. And Victor?”
A page shoves Victor up onto his horse. “Yes?”
“Wonderlandian metal is strong. I am not sure if bullets will penetrate it. If you are to use your gun, make sure your shots go for the neck or face.”
He grabs his reigns. “You’re rather bloodthirsty, aren’t you?”
“No.” To quote the Librarian: “I’m a realist.”
Another horn trills and then blares long and hard. The White King lifts my blade into the air. “I will accept no failures on our behalves today. There are innocents held by the Hearts, and we cannot allow the atrocities plaguing Wonderland to touch their lives for any longer than they already have.”
A rousing cheer sends the nesting borogroves screaming from nearby trees.
“Do not fear. Do not falter. Go with the singular purpose that every innocent life deserves our protection.”
A song lifts from the clearing, of days of old and in a language lost to many Wonderlanders. And yet understanding sinks meaningfully within every chest that hears the intonations. The knights sing, and as they do, goose pimples break out along my arms. The last time I heard this song, my knights were the one to sing it, and it moves me more than I can say.
A third series of horn trills sound once the song dies. The knights roar, “For Wonderland!”
I keep my horse close to Victor’s during the charge. We ride in the middle of the pack, with the King leading our way. His banners have been left behind—this ride is not for glory. This one is purely for justice.
The morning is chilly, and the air stings my face. Cannons boom in the far distance, but no one is worried about them. We have two dozen pikemen with us, including the Five of Diamonds. The White King’s forces have always been amongst the best and most loyal in Wonderland, and now that mine have combined with his in my absence, I have no fear whether we will be victorious today. I only fear the effects of SleepMist on non-natives. What if its properties are much like those of the food and water here? What if there are side effects we cannot account for?
I cannot be borne. I will not allow it.
After nearly a half-hour ride through the Orange Fields, the Hearts caravan appears. They must be stupidly optimistic, because from what I can tell as we charge forth, most of the soldiers are enjoying a leisurely breakfast around campfires. At the sound of our approaching hooves, though, they scramble for their weapons and horses, but the element of surprise is definitely on our side.
There are three large caged wagons in the middle of the encampment. I am still at a distance, but I’ve yet to see any signs of life. There are no hands outstretched from between the bars, no voices calling out for salvation.
The White knights roar their battle cry in unison. And then, much to my surprise, the Diamond battle cry is added. Trees lining nearby groves shudder in their wake, and more mopish, mimsy birds explode frantically into the sky.
I draw my sword, flipping it in my grip. I yell out to Victor, “Get ready! This is no sparring practice!”
I’m gifted a quick, sharp nod. He does not go for his gun, though. A sword is drawn from his side, too. And then I count down from ten, nine, eight . . . Hearts horns are sounding. Six, five . . . One of the enemy officers is bellowing, but we’ve given them no time for preparation. Three, two—
The two armies crash into one another. The scent of blood is immediate.
Our pikemen quickly dismount; their well-trained horses flee to the edge of the clearing. Blades are activated, and the screaming begins.
I’m viciously pleased by the sounds.
The green raths with their shark-like mouths attack the King, but he and my blade dispatch them as if they were mimsies. The Hearts pikemen abandon their stations by the caravans and join in the fray, but they are quickly overtaken by the Whites. At first, I am stunned, but then it occurs to me that the Queen of Hearts must be so desperate, she’s equipping pikemen before they’re ready. Most of these, from what I can tell, are mere boys and girls—even younger than the Five of Diamonds.
As for him, he’s a demon on the field.
I hack my way through the crowd. To my left, Victor does the same. I’m impressed with the doctor, though. Although it’s obvious he’s wary upon the horse, he also refuses to give up. Nearby, the sight of the White King fighting dazzles me. I’ve always thought it appears as if he dances on the battlefield rather than merely fight. My sword in his hand flies, the blade glowing blue as it doles out justice. The battle rages on for many long minutes, but before I know it, another horn sounds.
My relief is immense. It is the sound of a White victory.
The dust settles, and there are three Heart soldiers kneeling before a dismounted White King in the orange grass. All of the rest lay on the ground, blank eyes staring up into the gray morning skies.
“Ferz Eponi?” the King says.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Find me the SleepMist. I wish to have every last bit brought back to our encampment.”
“Yes, my lord.” The Ferz bows and barks out an order for the camp to be searched.
I hand the King the handful of Mindly pills I took from The Land that Time Forgot, ones I remembered to snatch shortly before we mounted. “For our prisoners’ ride back to camp.” The pills will keep the card soldiers deliriously occupied and honest so that they will not be able to recall the exact route we take. Once he accepts my offering, I am off and running toward the carriages, Victor close on my heels. White knights are already hard at work cutting open the locks, but I’m desperate.
And then I’m horrified. The closer I get to the cages, the more I see that bodies are piled upon other bodies. All asleep, or dead, I cannot tell. The jubjub bird was right, though. No blood is visible, but it does nothing to lessen the chill of mine.
The first padlock is snapped off. I’m up the steps to the caravan, frantic in my search through the bodies. There are children here, teenagers. The elderly, too. Sheep and Rabbits, Toads and Dodos. There are even a handful of Lizards. Victor searches the next caravan, but neither of us can find Mary or Finn in the stacks upon stacks of sleeping bodies.
“Your Majesty!” It’s Sir Halwyn. “I believe I have found the Queen’s colleagues!”
I’m out of the caravan and barreling toward the third. The old knight is standing in the midst of carefully stacked piles, his feet carefully placed so as to not touch upon any person. On either side of him, just five feet apart, are the people we’ve been searching for. They are unmoving and appear to be whole.
I have never been so relieved to see a pair of someones in my entire life.
Something between an ugly cry and laugh falls out of me. I’m about to climb in, but Ferz Epona places a hand on my shoulder. “Your Majesty, time is of the essence. Let us lead the caravans back to camp, so that we might begin triaging any possible wounds or medical maladies. There are dozens of bodies here, all in need of assistance.”
Behind her, the King is issuing a small portion of the contingency to take care of the dead. Offerings of songs for safe passage to the journeylands begin; even for enemies, this ancient tradition never goes ignored.
“Alice.” It’s Victor. There is blood streaked across his face. “She’s right. Let’s get them back to safety. We don’t know if anybody is going to be following up on a missing caravan.”
“Right.” I take a step back. “Of course.”
“Doctor,” Ferz Eponi is saying, “would you be willing to look at our newly wounded back at camp?”
As Victor confers with the Ferz, I make my way ove
r to the King. “Are there any deaths on our side?”
“No.” His smile is tight and sad and yet unsurprised. “But there are many wounded. The Queen of Hearts is outfitting pikemen before they’re ready.”
“I noticed the same thing.” I stare down at one of the pikes in the mud beneath our feet. “Why is she desperate?”
“The people,” he says as he also stares at the pike, “are not on her side.”
“They never have been. But that’s never produced such flagrant desperation before.” Wiping my face leaves my hand streaked with sweat and blood. “Has the White Queen said anything of it?”
He leads us back to our horses. “The Queen’s Council broke apart not two days after your departure. As far as I’m aware, none have been in contact with the others.”
All-too-familiar irritation surfaces. “Are you sure?”
“It is my hope, but I cannot be certain.”
“When did you last speak with her?”
He does not look at me when he says, “It has been at least two months since the White Queen and I last spoke in person, and two weeks since our last communique outside of the Ferzes.”
I’m stunned, but there is no time for further questions. He calls out to the forces to remount, and within minutes, we are off. Travel back to the camp takes longer than the travel to, as the caravans cannot move as fast as steeds at full speed. Close to two hours pass before we arrive, and by that point, my nerves are a tangled mess.
While the passengers of the caravans are carefully unloaded into already overflowing medical tents, Victor insists that we consume another ration and enough water to, as he claims, “offset the morning’s exertions.” I’m impatient, but do as he says, especially after he tells me he fears if we get dehydrated, some well-meaning Wonderlander will force upon us water from their wells.
He takes another pill. My curiosity burns once more.
Soon, we get word that Finn and Mary have been unloaded. Rather than being brought to the medical tents, the King orders them into his pavilion. By the time Victor and I enter, our friends are already laid out on cots and are covered with soft blankets.
“They are breathing, my lady,” Ferz Epona tells me. “We are positive it is SleepMist. It appears it is longer lasted than reported.”
Victor is the first to reach his brother and girlfriend. He peels one of Mary’s eyes back and peers in. “You said there would be paralysis following?”
“That’s what the rumors claim,” the Ferz says. “The paralysis allows potential buyers to assess their purchases or executioners to have docile victims.”
Victor swears underneath his breath, disgusted. I am, too. We all are.
“That said, we hear the paralysis lasts a much shorter time than the sleep. It is our hope that, if your colleagues were taken last night around the same time you encountered the Five of Diamonds, that the SleepMist is fading. They should wake soon.”
“Did you happen to get any of this SleepMist?” Victor grabs his backpack and rifles through it. A stethoscope is extracted so he can listen to Mary’s, and then Finn’s, hearts.
“We collected a dozen unlabeled canisters alongside what appear to be large gun-like misters that can be worn on backs,” the Ferz says. “The King has ordered a testing of the contents before we can claim otherwise. But it appears that the Hearts can use these contraptions to spray down large quantities of people at once.”
“I think I would like a sample,” Victor is saying. “I’d like to see what the breakdown is. Would that be possible?”
I’m surprised when the Ferz immediately agrees.
I make my way over to where Finn is sleeping. He looks fine. Peaceful. His eyes are closed, his breathing faint but steady. His hair isn’t even dirty—slightly askew, but still in the condition I last saw it in. But his knuckles are raw, as if he’d recently fought.
I cannot help myself. I bend down and gently touch the strands. “Did you find any supplies on my people?”
“No, my lady. All pockets of the hostages were emptied. None carried anything with them. Chances are, the Heart soldiers destroyed everything before they moved out of Nobbytown. Fires were said to rage about the town. It is their way nowadays.”
Victor extracts a small penlight from his bag. “That explains why we weren’t able to track their signals.” He shines it in one of Mary’s eyes. “Heart rate is slower than normal, eyes are completely dilated to the point the irises are nearly covered.” The doctor rocks back on his heels as he lowers the blanket covering his girlfriend. A sharp rap to the knees produces no movement. “Skin is clammy, indicating no fever. No reflexes visible to stimuli.”
Uncomfortable as it is in armor, I squat down next to Finn’s cot. None of this sounds good. “You know what this means, of course.”
“No sign of REM sleep. Interesting.”
I touch Victor’s shoulder. “If all their supplies are lost, so are their pens. Their travel books.”
Ah. Now he understands my meaning. “Shite. I guess I hadn’t even thought of that. Wendy is going to have a fucking conniption over that.”
“Can anyone use them?”
He shakes his head. “They’re DNA encoded, remember? Only Mary and Finn can use their pens. Everyone else would find them useless. Same with their phones—everything is password protected. I doubt anyone could break into them. It isn’t the first time we’ve lost supplies on an assignment.”
“But what if somebody good with gears and mechanics were to take it apart? Would they be able to replicate the pen?”
He considers this. “I don’t think so. I remember Wendy once saying she put self-destruct mechanisms in them. Only she and her lab know how to offset it when the pens are opened up. Anybody else?” He holds his hands out and expands his fingers. “Pen goes boom. You and I still have our pens and books, though.”
“What about the books?”
He blinks at me.
“The books used for editing. People would have access to the story, and to what the Institute looks like.”
He shrugs. “Then they would read a book about themselves or see pictures of a building whose use is not explained within the pages. Life will go on. Now hush and let me examine my brother.”
Victor performs the same tests he just completed on Mary on his brother. Once he’s done, he sighs heavily. “All we can do now is wait. I need to go to the medical tents to help out. Will you stay with them?”
As if he had to ask.
Once Victor is gone, Ferz Epona implores me to at least allow her to remove my armor. I’m reluctant to leave, but after much nagging, agree to do so. A bath is offered, and at first, I am tempted to say no. But the blood and grime on my skin is too much. I compromise by giving myself a sponge bath.
When I return to the room set aside for Finn and Mary, I find the White King dozing in a nearby chair. His armor is removed, but he has not bathed yet. Seeing him, and Finn, in such proximity nearly does my heart in.
My past and what I hope is my present and future.
The King rouses as soon as I close the flap to the room. “Sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s fine.” He yawns and scrubs at his inky-black hair. “I shouldn’t be dozing anyway.”
“When was the last time you slept?”
There’s that infamously guilty grin that always leaves too many body parts of mine tingling. “Two days ago, I think?”
“You think?”
“Maybe three?”
I sigh. “Why do you continue to do this to yourself? You need sleep.”
He makes his way to where I’m standing. “I did not want your friends to be left alone.”
The muscle in my chest contracts sharply. His generosity never fails to overwhelm me.
The White King’s pale eyes track down to Mary and then to Finn. “Is he a good man?”
I have to fight to swallow back the swarm of emotions flooding my throat. “Yes. Very much so.”
“I wo
uld hope,” the King says, “as a member of this Society you mentioned, he would be. I am glad for that.”
He sounds glad. Sad, heartbroken, but glad all the same. Would I be so benevolent in the reverse? I would like to think so—his happiness is my happiness, and has been so for so long. I would like nothing more than to know this man is happy, that his life will reach all the dreams we once set for ourselves. Even if they cannot be with me.
We walk over to the flap and step into the space directly outside. The Five of Diamonds is dismissed to the other end of the tent. “I look forward to meeting him when he wakes.”
I say softly, “He does not know.”
The King’s eyebrows lift up.
“It . . . it was the only way I could deal with what has happened. I can only take a step after another if I compartmentalize it all. They know I am a Queen, and that I could not stay due to the uneven courts, but that is all I’ve shared.”
He doesn’t say anything. He just looks at me with all the pain of our history shining in his pale eyes.
I ask, “Was she vicious?”
He knows what I mean. “Why do you think we are on such poor speaking terms?”
My words are barely voiced when I let him know I am sorry.
“No matter what,” he tells me quietly, “I do not regret what has happened. And if I could go back and do it all over again, it would be the same. I hope you feel the same way. She and I have always had an understanding since the day our crowns appeared. While we rule the White Court jointly, I never promised her my heart.”
I took it instead. Star-crossed, the Caterpillar used to mutter frequently. It was not a compliment.
The King reaches out and lays a hand against my heart. I do the same in return. I love his heart. I love the feel of it underneath my fingers and underneath my head when I rest against it. I love the sound, the steady beat I hoped I would fall asleep to every night of my life. I love how his heart is big and beautiful and generous, and that it, when circumstance demanded, allowed itself to break repeatedly rather than allow others’ to suffer.
He has the best of hearts. The best of souls.
I would never undo our past; I would never wish our love had not flourished. His presence in my life has shaped me to be who I am now, just as I have shaped him. But while neither of us would undo our shared past, we cannot go back and live in it once more, either.
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