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

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СКАЧАТЬ tilted her head and stared at her half sister, the Duchess of Wonderland. They had never been together without the king, not once since Vittiore had arrived. Dinah avoided Vittiore at all costs, and she had assumed Vittiore had done the same. They were never scheduled for the same activities, the same meals or lessons. She saw her occasionally for royal balls, croquet games, and more tedious matters of Wonderland, such as council meetings, but that was just a few times a year. During those times, Vittiore looked equally bored as Dinah, only with a hint of fear. She had always been slight and lovely, which made the much-more-solid Dinah feel like a clumsy giant around her, even here in this cavernous hallway.

      Vittiore gestured again behind her. “Please, Your Highness. Just one cup with me. I apologize for Nanda and Palma. I promise the view from my balcony is quite picturesque.”

      When a blunt rejection alighted on her tongue, Dinah reluctantly bit it back. Perhaps she could glean some understanding of what Faina Baker was mumbling about from speaking with Vittiore. She obviously had secrets to hide. Faina’s ramblings were still steeped in mystery and cryptic madness. They remained a dark puzzle. She would have to be creative to decipher their meaning. “I will have one cup of tea.”

      Vittiore tripped over the edges of her gown as she turned around. “Oof! These are always too long. I can lead you there.”

      “I am well aware of where your apartments are,” Dinah snapped. “They were my mother’s.” They walked in silence, the heavy steps of the Heart Cards clanking behind them.

      “It’s a lovely day outside, is it not? I am glad to see that spring is finally here,” whispered Vittiore.

      “I prefer winter,” Dinah replied curtly. “I relish the frozen air blowing in from the Todren.”

      Vittiore’s curls gave a slight shudder as she pushed open the door to her apartments. The stone hallway opened up into a bright, beautiful room. Vittiore’s windows faced the Western Slope, which eventually reached the sea. Several small towns inside Wonderland proper could be seen from her window. Dinah quietly marveled at how different Vittiore’s room was from hers. Dinah’s apartment was filled from floor to ceiling with bookshelves. It was large and decorated with ancient treasures—globes and tiny ship models, but it would never be called lovely. It was designed for a man, for the heir her father once dreamed he would have.

      Vittiore’s room was the very definition of lovely. It was airy and light, very different from when Dinah had seen it last, when everything was dark and draped with black fabric, a sign of mourning for her mother. Now, gossamer pastel fabrics draped the walls, moving slightly in the breeze. Every piece of furniture was painted a pale blue, and her upholstery was a swirl of bright, pretty colors. A white peacock strutted proudly across the room, pecking at Dinah’s feet. Vittiore scooped him up.

      “This is Gryphon.” She petted the bird’s head. He gave a happy shiver. “My tea room is over here, by the window.”

      Her rose tea table was tiny, Dinah noted. She barely had enough room to sit across from Vittiore without their elbows touching. She must always have tea alone, she thought, thankful that her own tea table was large enough to fit Harris and Emily alongside her. Palma and Nanda hovered over the table, watching Dinah’s every move with their meticulously painted eyes and dramatically arched brows.

      Vittiore noticed Dinah’s frown as Palma set down a clear-glass teacup. “I think the princess and I will have tea privately. Leave us.”

      “But, Your Grace, should the water run out, or the tarts need replenishing, how will we hear you? I really think it best we stay.”

      Dinah could see from the interaction that Vittiore had little control over her maidservants—it was more the other way around. She seemed to fear them. Dinah wasn’t surprised. The Dee family was made up of relentless social climbers, their loyalty shifting with the wind.

      Dinah snapped her fingers. “Leave us now. If you will not listen to the duchess, you will listen to me, your future queen. Make haste.”

      Palma curtsied and left the room with a loud sigh.

      “I’m sorry. They are very protective of me,” Vittiore apologized.

      “It is not my concern.” Dinah shrugged.

      There were a few moments of silence. Dinah looked at her cup. Since the steaming water had been poured over the prickly purple flower, one of its side petals had unfurled, filling half the cup with a strange glow. A tiny stream of red liquid now poured forth from the center of the flower, which tinted the cup and the water crimson.

      “What is this? I’ve never seen this tea flower.”

      Vittiore brought the cup to her lips and blew. “It’s called a blood thistle. It’s a wild shrub that grows out there, on the Western Slope.” She nodded her head to the window. “It makes the most wonderful tea.”

      Dinah raised the cup to her lips. Please don’t be poison, she thought as she took a timid sip. The tea was delicious—a heavy citrus flavor danced across her tongue before it began to buzz with an earthy aftertaste.

      “It is wonderful,” Dinah reluctantly agreed. She sipped the tea again with casual ease. “Do you know a woman who goes by the name Faina Baker?”

      Vittiore choked on her tea and dropped her cup, which exploded against the plate. Bloodred tea splashed over the collar of her peach dress, the red spreading from fold to fold. Vittiore sputtered. “Oh, I’m so clumsy. I’m sorry. My hands have always had a shake.” She began to wipe up the tea on the table. Dinah added her napkin to the effort. “No, no. I’ve never heard that name. Why do you ask?”

      Dinah decided to be shrewd. “It’s just a name I overheard.”

      Vittiore’s already-pale skin had turned a pasty shade of white, but she seemed to have regained her composure. “It is a sadness. I pray for all those imprisoned in the Black Towers, especially women.”

      Dinah arched her eyebrow. She had never mentioned the Black Towers or the fact that Faina was a prisoner there. Vittiore was obviously unhinged. Behind Dinah, a door shut as Nanda left the room. She had been quietly listening.

      Dinah stirred some sugar into her tea. “Tell me again where you grew up? I don’t think we’ve ever actually spoken since your”—she paused—“arrival on our doorstep.”

      Vittiore took a deep breath. Her eyes looked to the left. “I was born just inside the Twisted Wood, at the base of the Yurkei Mountains. I was born in the early autumn. Your father had camped at our village during his great battle with the Yurkei and met my mother. They fell into lust.”

      “While he was still married. To my mother, the queen.”

      Vittiore blinked. “Yes. I’m sorry, I forget that sometimes. It was not right of him to be unfaithful to your mother. I believe he was simply seeking emotional comfort in my mother’s arms, nothing more.”

      “And your mother?” asked Dinah.

      Vittiore’s eyes filled with tears. “She was a wonderful woman. Her body matched her nature—soft and tender. By the time I was brought here when I was fifteen, my mother was long dead.” Her voice caught in her throat. Dinah waited patiently for her to finish. “I am so blessed to have such a loving and gracious father, and so happy to be included in the Royal Line СКАЧАТЬ