“But I’m not a Queen—not really.” I wondered how much longer it would be until Sugar’s potion wore off. Once I was full-size again, I could squash this caterpillar without giving him a second thought. As it was, I was at the mercy of his most maddening conversation.
“You are the Queen of Spades, are you not?” Now he was draped over the red cap as he settled in for a spell.
Settling in for a spell can be the death of someone. Much like talking someone to death is still a crime in Topside, settling in for a spell is equally horrific. There’s no getting away from the one doing the settling, which means the only other option is to wait it out.
Sighing, I propped myself up against a neighboring mushroom. “I guess I could be if I really wanted to, but I would much rather be the Hatter’s wife instead.”
“Are you sure?” The caterpillar fanned out his fingers, examining them.
“Of course I’m sure!”
“‘Your Majesty’ does have such a nice ring to it,” he observed.
Your Majesty.
Your Majesty.
The clouds above parted.
The sun shone through.
The melodious sound of singing cherubs filled the air.
Of course, cherubs sing!
“Though, now that the Queen of Hearts is dead, there will be that vacancy to fill as well.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I couldn’t stomach all those hearts.” I cocked my head to the side. “Does everyone in Wo . . . Wo . . . Wonderland,” I bit the inside of my lip before finishing, “know that the Queen of Hearts is dead?”
“Why, yes. What a silly question you ask. News travels fast in Wonderland.” He was obviously stating the obvious, of which obviously should have been obvious to me already. “But the question remains, are you the Queen of Spades or not? Everyone wants to know.” He leaned over and almost fell off the red cap. “No one’s ever met her for certain.”
“I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” I replied hotly. “I am trying to find the Hatter, and I was told this was the way to go.”
The caterpillar nodded. “This is the way to the Hatter; that much is true. But you are going to have to spar with the Queen of Diamonds if you want to go any farther. There’s no getting around the giant chessboard around the bend. Your only option is to battle your way through. Your subjects are waiting for you.”
“My subjects?” It occurred to me that I was beginning to sound like Ellie’s annoying bird that lived in her hat, repeating everything that someone said.
“How do you not know this? You said you were the Queen of Spades; that kind of declaration automatically comes with subjects.”
Mental note to self: never, ever, ever, never underestimate the severity of queen-claiming again.
“Killing the Queen of Hearts was easy, I’m sure. After all, she had it coming,” he surmised while he began to retreat away from the mushroom’s ledge. “It’s the Queen of Diamonds, though, that you really need to watch out for—all those angles.”
“Wait, aren’t you going to wish me luck?” I was running dangerously low, and if you remember, being outta luck is a most acrid place to be.
His body gone from sight, all I heard was his voice, “If I thought it would help, I would.”
“Thanks for nothing,” I griped as I started to march in the direction of the bend. I made sure to stomp extra loudly as I went.
“On the contrary . . .,” his voice said from behind me.
That nosy larva was determined to have the last word.
“You know more than when you started; hence, that is something, so you should say, ‘Thanks for something,’ since it is more than you knew before.”
Know-it-all, busybody, nosy . . . larva.
It’s official.
I now hate caterpillars.
I fancy myself a decent chess player.
On occasion, I have been known to smite my foes in a mere five moves and then proceed to dance joyously on top of the table, knocking the chess pieces every which way, but more importantly, in the general direction of my opponent—the defeated, the decimated, the . . .
I take my victory celebrations quite seriously.
However, nothing could have prepared me for what awaited me around the bend.
Stitched into the ground was a colossal chessboard with its corners marked by red and black flags. On one side of the board were triangular bleachers brimming with all manner of creatures shouting their adoration…for me…for me.
My loyal subjects.
My loyal subjects.
“Your Majesty! The Queen of Spades!”
“All hail the Queen of Spades!”
“All hail the Queen!”
Undaunted, I strode forward with my chin up and shoulders back, rising to my full “mouse” height. Even at this ghastly size, I was undeterred in my quest; one queen had already met her demise by my hand, I would take them all down, one by one, if I had to.
No one would stand in my way of finding the Hatter.
I would be triumphant.
Or so I presently believed.
“Who dares to challenge the Queen of Diamonds?” a voice, shriller than shrill, of earsplitting magnitude, pierced the air.
My subjects were cowed into silence as their faces and hair were blown back against the cyclone of her voice.
I could feel my curls straighten.
My jaw went slack.
The Queen of Hearts had nothing on this queen.
Nothing.
On the other side of the chessboard, the Queen of Diamonds’ subjects roared their approval while waving their diamond-shaped flags.
Even at a distance, she appeared to be a formidable opponent. She rode forward on one of the white knights from the chessboard whose armor, from shaffron to crupper, was covered in red diamonds.
“Rode forward” is perhaps subject to interpretation. The white knight cantered a few paces to the left and then a few paces forward, repeating the pattern over and over again. It took me a minute to realize that he was moving in an L-shaped pattern.
How infuriating, though, that particular movement is to be expected from a chess knight.
However, the horse’s stride was not the most distinguishing trait of the spectacle that drew ever closer.
No.
That distinction was reserved for the Queen of Diamonds’ insanely rhombus appearance.
Her hair was fashioned so quadrilaterally.
Her nose was so losange.
I was experiencing angle envy, and it vexed me, at every forty-five-degree turn.
“Who dares to challenge the Queen of Diamonds?” she screeched.
I closed my eyes, hoping that just shutting her out from my mere sight was enough to make her disappear—along with all those putrid shades of red.
Again, with the reds.
Bleh!
“Are you mute?” she goaded me.
I reopened my eyes.
She was still there.
Sigh. My luck was deplorably low.
“You are…how should I say…etre con comme un balai?” the Queen of Diamonds snipped.
My French wasn’t what it used to be, but I am pretty sure she just compared me to a broom.
A broom.
“Oh, you are French?” I haughtily replied while trying not to be too intimidated as she towered over me.
Her eyes narrowed into perfect diamond triangles, which was really quite creepy, believe me—and it takes a lot to creep me out. “She speaks! Are you English?” She sniffed the air. “No . . . an English imposter! You are more of a rosbif, yes?”
If I was wearing gloves, I would have just taken them off.
“I am the Queen of Spades, you frog, and you will address me as such!”
There, that should set her straight.
Like my curls—oh, I will have my revenge.
“You may have cut down one Queen, but I will not be so easily foiled.” The Queen of Diamonds was working herself into a snit.
/> Typical baguette.
“The Hatter lives on the other side of this chessboard,” she pointed with an overly pointy finger. “If you want to have even a wisp of a chance of seeing him again, you’ll have to defeat me in a game of chess.”
There were no secrets in this wretched place.
Everyone knew my business.
Oddly, I longed for Topside, quirkiness and all. At least my life was my own there.
But second things are first, now, since my first thing—killing the Queen of Hearts—had come to a close.
I had a vision of that bulbous ostrich lying dead on the ground.
Maniacally I smiled.
“So be it.” I felt myself grow a notch, much to my pleasure. “I will meet your challenge. Prepare yourself for battle, Queen of the Frogs.”
Her diamond-shaped eyes popped open in shock.
Creepy. There was no other word for it.
She clicked her tongue twice—which was ridiculously rude—before trotting off to her side of the chessboard.
My subjects began to rouse from their silence as they started to cheer me on again.
My most loyal subjects.
A black knight from the chessboard’s spade side galloped towards me in a repetitive L-shaped pattern that was making me woozy as I watched him.
He was decked out in white armor with black spades painted on it and whinnied as he bowed forward so I could hoist myself onto his saddle.
I took the reins with confidence, though nausea set in quite quickly as he cantered his lopsided L formation back to the queen’s square—d8—my square.
Ceremoniously I was deposited onto d8, amongst the exuberant adulation of my subjects, while the Queen of Diamonds’ subjects booed.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” the king piece said in a regal voice before sighing, “though, you won’t last long; the queens never do.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I rolled up my sleeves and then rolled them back down again.
I was getting outta sorts.
Outta sorts, combined with my impending outta luck, was the worst possible combination.
The king piece bent down, lowering his voice, “You’re not the first person to come along claiming to be the Queen of Spades, you know. Though, I must say that you are prettier than the others, in your own severe way.”
I dismissed his backhanded compliment, swatting him away before he smacked me in the face. “I am taken.”
“We know.” The king piece rolled his eyes. “Why do you think we are here? The Queen of Diamonds doesn’t let anyone visit the Hatter anymore—hence the astonishing lack of hats worn by your subjects, her subjects, or anyone’s subjects, for that matter.”
I took stock of the creatures that surrounded us.
So many were hatless.
It was one thing for me to forgo a dressing upon my head—it was by choice; I had my reasons—but to see masses of others forcibly denied their privilege of hat-exhibition…made me sad.
And angry.
My Tippery—the grandest of grand, of all the milliners to ever live in Wonderland, Topside, England, or otherwise—was denied his craft.
I could feel a red-spell coming on.
I tamped it down.
“White moves first!” the Queen of Diamonds’ shrill voice cut through the air, dampening the festivities around me.
“So, if I win, I get to see the Hatter, right?” This time, I rolled up my sleeves and left them there. “But what happens if I lose?”
The king piece shuddered with contempt. “It’s an instant death—quick and painless. She takes your head, of course.”
I have had it with these queens and their head-taking obsessions.
“Do I get to kill her, as well, if I win?” Strategically I eyed the board.
Should I play a Queen’s Gambit?
What if she doesn’t accept?
The king piece shrugged before returning to his formal position. “Can’t say. No one who’s ever played against her has won before.”
“White to f3!” A white pawn moved forward one space.
It was a weak move in my opinion. Control of the board’s center as quickly as possible was paramount.
How did she not know this?
“Black to e5!” I yelled out as the crowd hushed.
The king’s pawn moved forward two spaces.
It was time to see what this Queen of the Frogs was made of.
“White to h3!” she shrilly replied as her white knight on her king’s side moved into position.
“What is she doing?” I muttered. Did she not realize that controlling the center of the board was paramount?
Yes, I am aware that I have already previously stated this. Thank you for the reminder. Now, if you don’t mind . . . be quiet!
“Black to d5!”
My pawn moved forward two spaces.
My subjects clapped with approval.
“A bold move, Your Majesty,” my bishop commended me.
I peered down the chessboard. Was that sweat I saw dripping down the Queen of Diamonds’ face?
Ha! Who is the rosbif now, you angular monstrosity?
“White to a4!”
The white rook pawn on the queen’s side moved forward two spaces.
I do love the smell of panic; it has such a pleasant bouquet to it.
“Black to h3!”
My subjects gasped as one as my bishop moved forward.
Her subjects collectively snickered.
Take the bait, you frog, take the bait.
“White to h3!”
A white pawn moved to capture my bishop, slaying the poor gentleman where he stood, with a single sword thrust to his belly.
The crowd visibly grimaced.
I mourned him for only the slightest sliver of a moment. It was a necessary sacrifice, for the Queen of Diamonds was so focused on capturing one of my subjects—any of my subjects—that she made a fatal mistake.
Success was to be mine.
“Black to h4!”
I marched down the diagonal of the board and into place. Behind me the black chess pieces clapped and cheered in admiration. Again, I felt myself grow another two notches.
I was almost back to my full height—almost.
“Checkmate!” I hollered at the top of my voice, which sounded more and more like my own again.
Her king quaked with fear as he stared back at me from his position.
“No! This cannot be happening!” the Queen of Diamonds screamed shrilly.
Oh, but it is, you frog, it is.
Maniacally I smiled.
I didn’t need the assistance of a red-spell for what I was about to do.
I sprinted down the diagonal of the chessboard, running straight for the white king piece.
He recoiled in horror.
“No one ever beats me! No one!” the Queen of Diamonds bellowed.
Once I was upon the king’s square, I leapt into the air with my green Wellies pointed forward and proceeded to kick the king piece clear off the board.
He yelped out in pain as he went tumbling over with two distinct Wellie-prints on his chest. The force of my impact knocked the air right out of him.
He never got it back.
I was triumphant.
My subjects, and even some of her subjects, applauded loudly. “All hail the Queen of Spades! All hail the Queen of Spades!”
I couldn’t help myself; I bowed graciously.
The Queen of Diamonds plowed over to where I stood, knocking some of her own chess pieces out of the way.
We were almost able to meet eye to eye.
Almost.
“Never have I been so completely defeated,” she shamefully admitted once she reached me. “You may take my life. I am no use to anyone as a defeated queen.”
I must admit that the thought of ending her did ring true in my heart.
But I am not that coldhearted.
Really, do not be led astray. Just because the Queen of H
earts had it coming . . .
Hearts.
Hearts.
“I believe I may have a solution to your problem.” I unrolled my sleeves and tidied my dress.
Tippery gave me this dress; did I tell you?
Never mind. I am in the state of digression, yet again.
“Being that there is a vacancy where the Queen of Hearts is concerned, it may interest you to fill that position. After all, you both like, or in her case, liked, red, and if you can get past all those pear-shaped angles, it could be a good fit for you.” I paused, still relishing my victory. “Your styles are . . . how should I put this? Quite similar.”
The Queen of Diamonds rubbed her pointy chin. “I have always coveted that castle. I find this solution to my liking very much!”
Typical baguette. If there was a castle to conquer, the French were all in.
Ha! But those heart courtiers were in for a nasty surprise.
However, that was neither here nor there as far as I was concerned, for I was leaving here, and I certainly wasn’t going back there.
“Goodbye, Queen of Spades! The Hatter lives in that direction.” She pointed most directly at a spot in the distance and then mounted her white knight. “We make haste for the Castle of Hearts!” Her knight galloped past in his trademark L-shaped style, with her subjects running close behind all the while waving their diamond-shaped flags.
I waved them off, happy to see them go.
The Queen of Diamonds was a lousy chess player, and that was good enough for me. Originally it had crossed my mind to attempt to play the smothered mate checkmate move, but that would have been overkill.
Once they were out of sight, I turned in the direction that she had pointed to—where the Hatter lived—and smacked right into a throng of my subjects.
It was the entire throng.
“We go where the Queen of Spades goes!”
“All hail the Queen!”
“All hail . . .”
“Stop that! Stop that!” I held up my hands, and they immediately ceased their adulations.
Zealously they awaited my next command.
“I cannot take all of you with me,” I started to explain. “I have places to go and people to see.”
One by one their shoulders hunched over as they lowered their spade-shaped flags.
“Don’t look at me like that. This is nothing personal,” I continued.
The Hatter's Wife Page 5
