Tobias and Alice were having a quiet conversation as they were escorted along the red-brick road by thirty-six card soldiers — all elites, tens, not a single number lower.
“You’re charged with protecting me,” Alice murmured, giving Tobias a look, and then sweeping the soldiers with her eyes. “Am I supposed to assume this qualifies?”
“No harm will come to you,” Tobias assured her. “I had to improvise. But we’ll get out of this. Just be patient.”
Alice lifted an eyebrow. “I’m trusting you,” she said.
Every look she gives me, she’s appraising me. Trying to figure out what I’m really made of.
Don’t worry. I have a plan.
Or, well…
Flynn does.
Because, in truth, that’s what he was counting on at this point. There wasn’t a lot Tobias could do right now, but Flynn had gotten away before the ambush, just in time. He’d planned to have Flynn run interference. They would have been able to make a fight of it, and most likely even escape cleanly…
If Guinevere hadn’t fouled it all up.
What in the world had made her think she could fight thirty-six soldiers? She’d had excellent tutelage in the sword — her opening step had been clean and strong, her thrust had been swift and sure — but that had all been court fencing, no doubt. An excellent style of swordsmanship; Tobias would never knock it. But in the hands of someone too quick on the attack, who had no experience in actual combat…
It could be a death sentence.
She’s trained entirely in one-on-one dueling. When she lunged for the closest soldier, she got tunnel vision. She completely ignored the two closest to him, and all he had to do was backstep out of her reach. His partners closed in, disarmed her, grabbed her…
And my chances of getting us away cleanly evaporated.
But he didn’t hold it against her. If anything, he held it against himself — he hadn’t been fast enough to protect her. Thankfully he’d been able to save Ava, at least.
And he knew something of Guinevere’s situation. Ever since the death of the Promised King ten years ago, the Promised Queen had been under house arrest in all but name. It was for her protection, of course, but even so, a sheltered life like that could only breed negativity and naïveté. She’d clearly grown arrogant, full of herself because of her title.
Or perhaps it isn’t arrogance. There’s something… desperate, in the way she proclaims her title. Like she’s…
And then he understood it, in a sudden instance of clarity.
Like she’s desperate to remain relevant. Without the Promised King, the Promised Queen is, in so many ways, just a princess. A princess who will never be crowned. It would be the same for the Promised King if their roles had been reversed. It takes them both to fulfill the Promise. When only one remains…
He bit back a surge of emotion. Now wasn’t the time for these musings. Unless he was wary of Guinevere’s outbursts, and devised clever ways to defuse the situation, once they were brought before the Queen of Hearts, she could end up throwing her life away without even realizing it. And possibly sealing Alice’s fate, as well.
And Ava’s.
She needs to be more careful. For her dog’s sake.
Ava padded along between Tobias and Guinevere, staying closer to Tobias. But she kept casting glances at Guinevere. Her tail hung low, and her pointy ears drooped. Now and then she whined, and shook her head slightly. There was no blood on her snout, but that booted kick she’d received to the face would undoubtedly leave a bruise.
In truth, Tobias was fighting to control his own anger. Seeing an animal harmed like that reminded him just who he was up against, and just what she was capable of.
And he was being taken right to her lair. An audience with the Queen of Hearts.
He’d been through this once before. It had been three years since then.
He wished it had been forever.
Back then, it was just me and Flynn. Now… I have to look out for Alice, Guinevere, and Ava. Guinevere’s going to be trouble, there’s no doubt about that. But I could see Alice being just as much of a problem. She’s an enigma, which means she could swing things either direction. She has a tendency to treat the serious like a joke.
At least Flynn’s safe. That leaves us with a chance — an excellent chance. Everyone puts their focus on me, highlights the swordsman, the Knight, when it comes to a fight. I know White and Saoirse both have a healthy wariness of Flynn’s capabilities, but even they don’t realize that in this partnership, he’s the better half.
Thinking of Flynn helped Tobias calm himself. Yes, they still had a chance. Their fates were far from sealed.
White led their procession on a side road — a narrow road, sloping off from the ridge. It was new, and cleverly situated so that Tobias hadn’t noticed it on his way to the plateau. And it wasn’t far along this winding path, which slipped back through a tunnel in the ridge, that they came to…
A looking-glass.
“You knew where we were going to end up,” Tobias said, the pieces falling into place. No wonder he hadn’t heard the telltale song of approaching soldiers. They’d gotten there before him, probably with plenty of time to spare. And the card soldiers could become as still as statues, giving nothing away as they lay in waiting. If the breeze had blown the right way, Tobias and Flynn might have smelled the unique metallic tang of forged ruby ore in the air, but they hadn’t been so lucky.
“I was assigned to this task personally,” White said in his heavy North-Wonderian brogue, halting before the looking-glass. It was, like all other looking-glass portals, a perfect circle seven feet in diameter. It hung in the air, about six inches off the ground, perfectly still, without support or tether to keep it there. The frame was silver, a captivating silver that drew you in, and the surface was clear, pristine, perfectly reflecting the procession that had halted before it even in this dark cavern — as if the portal itself glowed with its own light. White drew all of his three feet of fluffy height up with dignity. “I wasn’t going to let you escape her grasp again, Tobias. The Queen has yearned for this day with all her heart. She would spare no expense to see you returned to her.”
Guinevere made a sound in her throat at the use of the title, but thankfully was silent other than that. “Thirty-six soldiers seems like she was holding back, even if they are tens,” Tobias said.
“I noticed you had companions,” White said. He lifted a paw to adjust his spectacles. “Had you and Flynn been alone, I may have brought more than double this number — though it is easier to move stealthily with a smaller force.”
Tobias raised an eyebrow. “You always were a shrewd tactician,” he said. “Well? Is it time for afternoon tea?”
White fumbled with his pocket watch for a moment, his dignity evaporating. He checked the time, checked it again, then nodded. “Not late,” he said with a relieved sigh. “Not late, for once. Come along, men! To the Queen’s audience chamber!” White hopped into the looking-glass, and the mirrored face rippled as he passed through it. The reflection morphed, changed, from the image of the procession gathered before it to the audience chamber in the Queen of Hearts’ palace.
Tobias felt a shiver run down his spine. Oh, he was not looking forward to this. But as the soldiers started ahead, ready to give him and Alice a little prodding if necessary, he walked forward on his own.
“This is part of your plan?” Alice murmured, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s a work in progress,” Tobias said.
“Unhand me!” Guinevere protested, for the hundredth time. And, also for the hundredth time, nothing changed. She was carried through the looking-glass portal, vanishing from sight.
“Shall we?” Alice asked, eyeing the rippling mirror with a sly smile. Tobias nodded, and they went through, him first, with Alice and Ava following close behind.
The journey was not instantaneous. Looking-glass portals served as entrance and exit points to and from a realm beyond the physical realms. Similar to the veil of light that all who took doors into and out of Wonderia passed through, but this realm was more… unsettling. All was hazy mist, phantoms shifting through the silver fog. When Tobias raised his hand, even his own body seemed to be wraithlike, a part of the very mists he traveled through.
And the mists went on endlessly in all directions. This was a realm where it was easy to become lost, trapped forever with no way out.
Unless one formed a lane in advance. White had done just that by leaping in first, fixating his will on a specific exit point, a specific looking-glass and the place which it exited out to. Now, it was impossible for Tobias, Alice, Ava, or the card soldiers to stray from the path. A faint line of light to either side formed a boundary, and also a guiderail, showing them the way forward.
Sound was strange here. Wind was constantly howling, but with voices, whispering voices all around. Tobias never could make out exactly what the whispering chorus was saying — there were too many voices with too many individual messages to parse through, and what fragments he was able to catch seemed to be some otherworldly language, a tongue heard nowhere else. When he opened his mouth to speak, his own words came out transformed, inconstant, joining the chorus and sailing away.
One step after another through the land between the mirrors. Then, there it was, a shining silvery pool — their exit. It wasn’t like the mirror itself. It wasn’t a horizontal entrance, but a rippling pool of light in the ground. Tobias stopped at the edge, braced himself, and jumped in. A brief shock of icy cold, and then…
He emerged standing upright on a solid floor, perfectly dry, out from the phantom realm and back into Wonderia.
Back into the one place he’d hoped to never set foot in again: the Queen of Hearts’ palace.
White was already kneeling before the Queen, regal and beautiful atop her lofty throne, announcing the arrival of Tobias. But Saoirse Scarlet, the Queen of Hearts, wasn’t even listening to the white rabbit, now.
Her scarlet eyes were fixed on Tobias. Her scarlet lips were curled in a hungry smile.
“Welcome back, dear Tobias,” she said in her resonant, lilting accent, dignified and free-spirited in equal measure. Her voice echoed all throughout the audience chamber, but that had nothing to do with the acoustics.
That was just a taste of the Queen of Hearts’ power.
“All these long years I’ve dreamed of this moment, and finally, you have returned to me,” the Queen continued. “But…” Her smile faded, as her eyes flicked to Alice, to Ava, and finally, to Guinevere. “You have brought guests. Female guests, no less. And your own furry companion is nowhere to be seen.”
“He’ll turn up when it suits him,” Tobias said, finding his voice. “You know how he is.”
“Yes, I do,” Saoirse murmured. She waved a hand towards White. “Alert the groundskeepers about Flynn. No harm to him, of course. We don’t harm animals around here, after all.”
“As you wish, my Queen,” White said. He bowed low, and then scurried off to perform her will.
“Now, who have you brought to my lands with you?” Saoirse asked. She leaned forward in her throne, one red-nailed hand gripping her resplendent heart-topped scepter. “Don’t tell me your affections lie elsewhere.”
“Don’t misread the situation,” Tobias said stiffly. “None of us came here intentionally. Certainly not me. I made it quite clear the last time we met that I had no desire to ever see you again.”
“And yet here you are,” Saoirse said. She smiled, but Tobias could have sworn one of her eyes twitched. “Fate intertwines us, my dear Tobias. You and I are destined to be one.”
Tobias shivered. With an effort, he managed not to display his disgust on his face. “As always, I disagree,” he said. “But if you intend to keep me here, I have conditions.”
“That your guests are not to be harmed, I’m sure?” Saoirse asked. “That can be arranged.” Her eyes flicked to Guinevere, struggling in vain against the grip of the card soldiers. “What fire you have, girl. But you should realize how futile it is to resist the will of the Queen.”
Tobias winced. Beside him, Alice chuckled.
And Guinevere snapped. “How dare you sit upon that throne and claim the title of Queen?” she asked, glaring daggers at the Queen of Hearts. “There is only one Queen, and it is not you, pretender on a false throne.” Even with her hands wrenched behind her back, Guinevere managed to draw herself up with impressive dignity. “It is I, Guinevere, the Promised Queen, as told in the Song of the Promise. You will show me the respect and deference I am due, or you will suffer my wrath.”
Oh. She managed to make it even worse than I expected.
One hand hovered over Tobias’ sword, as he braced himself for the storm that was about to be unleashed.
But Saoirse didn’t explode at Guinevere. She didn’t glare daggers at her. She did nothing to match Guinevere’s wrath.
Instead, she stood, with all the dignity and grace of a queen, smiled, and started down the steps from the stage that bore her throne. “Oh, you sweet, innocent flower,” Saoirse murmured, chuckling. “The Promised Queen? How quaint.” She strode up to the struggling Guinevere until she was just a foot away from her, and stopped. There, their respective positions were laid starkly bare. Guinevere, five-foot-four, in somewhat dirty, somewhat wrinkled dueling clothes, an empty scabbard at her hip, a leather rucksack on her back, her beautiful red curls messy and wild. Saoirse, five-foot-seven, impeccably clean, her face made up, her hair immaculate, her marvelous dress spotless and smooth, jewels at her throat, in her crown, on several rings on her fingers, all along her scepter.
“Which one of us looks the part, hmm?” Saoirse asked. “Which one of us is a real Queen? You, the pampered little princess in her quaint mansion in that drab kingdom on Albia? Or me, with a proper throne, a palace and kingdom beyond that I can roam freely in? You, all alone? Or me, with servants and an army at my beck and call, ready to serve my every whim?” Saoirse leaned down towards Guinevere. When Guinevere spat at her, Saoirse raised a small scarlet hand mirror, and the spit reflected off of it, splashing back into Guinevere’s face. Saoirse lowered her mirror and laughed, spreading her arms wide. “Oh, you sweet, arrogant little fool! You, a Queen? You are no Queen. A princess at best, but really only a promise, a promise without hope of fulfillment. Your King is dead, and you will never take a throne or wear a crown in your life.”
Saoirse smiled that wicked, arrogant, cold smile. Guinevere glared back at her, rage and fury and pure, venomous hatred written all over her face.
Ava growled softly in her throat. There was an imperceptible move forward, the prelude to a bark or a lunge, but Tobias made a soft sound in his own throat. Ava paused. Glanced at him.
She understood the warning. And she listened.
I know how you feel. But violence won’t do us any good here, not now.
Saoirse turned from Guinevere, satisfied that she’d put the Promised Queen in her place, her attentions now fixed…
On Tobias.
“I have prepared a suite for you, my dear Tobias,” Saoirse said with a breathy sigh. “You will be perfectly comfortable. And in time, you will come around to me. I am not offended at your refusal of my advances. If you made things easy, you wouldn’t be the one for me.” She smiled, and a chill ran down Tobias’ spine.
“A suite for him,” Alice said, “and for us, what?” She spoke matter-of-factly, not seeming remotely dismayed by the situation. If anything, she seemed rather amused.
“I would prefer not to have any children in these halls,” Saoirse said, sparing Alice only the slightest glance, “save for, one day, my own.” She reached out a red-taloned hand to stroke Tobias’ cheek. He repressed a shudder under the touch, repressed even more his urge to draw his sword and cut that hand from her arm.
The Queen of Hearts was not to be trifled with. And he was in a perilously disadvantageous position right now. He needed to remain calm. To be patient.
To trust Flynn.
“For you, child, and you, beautiful little promise,” Saoirse continued, “a cell. You can join the other foul intruder we caught earlier. She put up quite the fight — more than you, promise-girl.” She shot a look at Guinevere, and at Guinevere’s fiery glare and sudden struggle against the iron grip on her arms, burst into high laughter. “Oh, this is going to be so fun! Come, then. Let me personally escort all of you to your quarters.”
Saoirse started ahead, and a procession followed — thirty-six metallic card soldiers, Tobias, Alice, Guinevere, and Ava.
“You’re giving an awful lot of trust to your friend,” Alice said in a soft voice, barely even discernible to Tobias’ ears as he walked right alongside her.
So she’s picking up on my plan. She’s clever.
“He’s good for it,” Tobias said. “You’ll see.”
Alice smiled. Unperturbed to the last, it seemed.
They left the audience chamber and headed through a series of scarlet-walled, scarlet-ceilinged, scarlet-carpeted halls adorned with heart motifs, heart-shaped windows gazing out onto the Queen of Hearts’ lands, and beautiful painted portraits in scarlet frames.
The portraits were conspicuous. They made Tobias shudder, Guinevere look disgusted, and Alice look embarrassingly amused.
The last time he’d been here, these walls had been full of portraits of Saoirse herself, in various poses, costumes, and scenarios.
Now, however…
A dozen portraits were in this hall alone, all of them paintings of Tobias. Tobias as he’d never appear in a mirror, not even on his best days. In the paintings, his eyes simply shone with a startling sapphire brilliance. He seemed taller than he’d ever be, dressed all in scarlet, with a poise and bearing far more regal than knightly, too grand, too imperious, too imposing for Tobias’ comfort.
Tobias as Saoirse saw him, as the Queen of Hearts desired him: her King, to stand radiant at her side forever.
“Someone’s got a bit of an obsession,” Alice said with a little giggle. Tobias flicked a worried glance at Saoirse, but she didn’t seem to have heard her.
They reached a pair of scarlet doors inlaid with hearts… and faces. Images of many faces, all of them male, the faces of beautiful, handsome, impeccable men. Tobias braced himself. He knew what awaited them in the next hall.
At a mere flick of Saoirse’s fingers, the doors swung open, and Saoirse led the procession through. This hall had no windows, instead lit by scarlet lamps set in the ceiling, giving everything a crimson glow. The walls to either side along the nearly quarter-mile corridor were glass display cases, filled with hundreds upon hundreds…
Of heads.
Heads perfectly preserved, with no sign of decay, in fact looking still alive despite not having their bodies. All of them were male, hundreds of men and boys, ages ranging from thirteen to eighty-three. Each sat on a little pedestal, with tiny plaques displaying the names, ages, and “Reason for Decapitation” underneath their severed, but strangely lively, head.
Guinevere gasped. Ava let out a soft whine. Tobias and Alice were silent, Alice watching with that endless curiosity, and Tobias…
Watching their eyes. The eyes of the heads, hundreds of them, as they tracked him, followed him, all eyes fixed on him. They gazed at him with jealous contempt, and some of them, worse: heartbroken despair.
“What is this…?” Guinevere asked in a hushed, horrified voice.
“I’m so very glad you asked, promise-girl,” Saoirse said. The procession halted, and then she turned, gesturing widely with both arms. “This is my Hall of Beauty. All the beautiful men, the beautiful boys, who have come calling upon me, or who have found themselves in my lands by happy accident, end up here. Before I met Tobias, each was a candidate for my hand in matrimony who fell short in one way or the other. But all are beautiful, aren’t they? I couldn’t bear to just cast them out. They desire me, after all — why wouldn’t I reward that desire? Better to let them live here, to be able to gaze upon me with that desire when they can. Although —” she smirked at Tobias, “when he’s here, they tend not to look at me at all. It’s almost enough to make a girl jealous.”
“They… but you…” Guinevere started, her mouth working but unable to find words.
“How are they all still alive?” Alice asked. She tapped the glass in front of a head at her eye level. The eyes of that head — belonging to a James Theabeld, aged twenty-three; decapitated, apparently, for “letting his pretty eyes wander” — looked rather annoyed at Alice’s tapping, which only made her tap some more, giggling at his annoyed glare. He said something, but none could hear his words through the glass.
“Why in the world would I display dead heads?” Saoirse asked, arching an eyebrow. “They are kept alive by my power, of course. They sometimes talk, even — though the glass is soundproof. I have no desire to hear the voices of those who have disappointed me.”
“So Tobias will end up in here someday?” Alice asked.
“Absolutely not!” Saoirse snapped, the first time since they’d arrived that she’d raised her voice in anger. The air around her crackled with wrathful scarlet electricity. One bolt lanced towards a card soldier, and he went rigid, then fell to the floor in clattering pieces, disassembled for good. Saoirse took a breath, calming herself, and as a pair of soldiers swept away the remains of their fallen cohort, the magical sparkings of the Queen’s anger vanished. “Tobias is my one true love. He is the reason all of these suitors failed. No, I prefer him very much intact. I don’t just want his head.” Saoirse smiled, that hungry smile Tobias knew too well. “I want every inch of him.”
Tobias shivered.
“So his lack of desire for you isn’t a disappointment?” Alice asked. Tobias winced. Alice was treading on dangerous ground, with the curious innocence of a child. Or — more likely, Tobias thought — she was purposely seeing just how far she could push everyone’s buttons without bringing harm to herself.
I really need to watch out for this girl, don’t I?
“As I said earlier,” Saoirse said, turning to lead the procession once more, “if he made things easy for me, that would be the disappointment. As you can tell from Johann Volto’s plaque.” She tapped the glass as she passed, and when Alice and Tobias passed that spot, they read the indicated plaque beneath the head of a dark-haired, green-eyed, square-jawed thirty-one year-old: “Too easy, right from the off”
“You have very strange tastes,” Alice said, rolling her eyes.
“What kind of sick, twisted monster are you?” Guinevere asked, finding her voice.
Saoirse laughed. “The kind that has you completely at my mercy, pretty little promise-girl,” she said. “And here we are — your lodgings. First, for you, Tobias, my dearest.” They reached the end of the Hall of Beauty, and through the next door entered stone halls, towards a swiftly descending stair. But at the top of the stair was a scarlet door, emblazoned with a heart around another painted portrait of some dream-man who was definitely not Tobias, despite the superficial resemblance. Saoirse retrieved a key from her bodice, unlocked the door, and pushed it open.
“I want to see their cell, first,” Tobias said stiffly. He stood by the door, but didn’t dare look in. He had no interest in the suite the Queen of Hearts had prepared for him, and, in truth, dreaded it.
The most beautiful cage is still a cage.
“Oh, no, we can’t have that,” Saoirse said with the sweetest — fakest — smile. “Get acquainted with your new, temporary home. And they’ll get acquainted with theirs. Later — after we’ve shared afternoon tea — you can visit them and analyze their accommodations. Agreed?”
——
Guinevere was seething.
How dare this wicked woman claim to be a queen? How dare she treat her like this, cage her up like some animal? How dare that metal soldier kick Ava in the nose hard enough to make her cry out in pain? Ava was still occasionally nursing her injury, rubbing at her snout with her paws and whimpering now and then.
But despite her rage at this Queen-pretender and her wicked, macabre palace, thoughts of someone else still rang in her mind.
He’s left-handed.
She couldn’t help but notice. When Tobias had leapt to Ava’s defense, that was the very first thing she noticed. To be left-handed wasn’t completely unique, of course — they were rare, but Guinevere knew a few. Rosalie was left-handed, after all.
But he was left-handed, also.
Why? Why does he have to be so much like him? And yet so much not?
It was infuriating. Like the ghost of Artorius was toying with Guinevere’s emotions.
I can’t go seeing him where he isn’t. He’s not dead. He isn’t.
But he can’t be Tobias. That would be one insult too far.
But those eyes, like a cloudless summer afternoon…
And now she knew he was left-handed, too…
Infuriating.
And now Tobias was sitting comfily in a lavish suite with proper, plush furniture, while Guinevere was down in a dank dungeon sharing a stone-walled, unfurnished cell with Ava, the exasperating child Alice, and the “other intruder” the Queen-pretender had mentioned.
Sheena, her name was. Apparently. She’d introduced herself, but Guinevere had barely been paying attention. She had far too much on her mind. Plotting the complete destruction of the Queen-pretender’s palace, of course. Adding the Queen-pretender’s own severed head to her macabre collection would be a nice touch.
And then…
Then, I need to get back on track. My quest will not continue to be a series of ridiculous accidents, stumbling from one disaster to the next. Out of the Queen-pretender’s lands, away from Tobias and Alice and anyone else…
Then I can properly begin.
She still couldn’t believe how horribly her adventure had begun. Completely undignified, absolutely mortifying, and to an audience, no less! From flat on her face to stuffed in a cell, it seemed the world was siding with her mother — determined to convince her that her beautiful little cage back home was exactly where she belonged. Like the world was trying to convince her that this whole endeavor was a mistake.
I’m never going back. And no matter how much Wonderia, or all the realms, try to convince me this is a fool’s quest, I will not turn back. I will not surrender.
The embarrassments only stoked a fire within her. It hurt, certainly — all her exceptional sword training had gone to waste in her first moment of live combat. It had been over almost as soon as she’d drawn her sword, and just thinking back on that pathetic failure threatened to bring tears to her eyes.
I won’t embarrass you again, Tycho. You taught me so much, and you’ve praised my abilities so often. I can already hear your voice, already know exactly what I did wrong. “Don’t let your opponent bait you, Guin. You have a swift temper; don’t let that be your undoing. When your blade is in your hand, you must be calm at all times.”
And of course, that tied into the lesson that had resonated with her the most: “You’re never only fighting your opponent. At every moment, every one of us is waging a battle in our hearts. You are a Queen, Guin. Don’t be ruled by your emotions. Rule them.”
That memory put a smile on Guinevere’s face. A Queen was not ruled, not by pretenders to a false throne, not by metallic soldiers, not by embarrassments, and not by her own failures.
Nothing and no one ruled a Queen.
“What are you smiling about?” Alice asked. There was that annoying voice again, yanking Guinevere out of her productive reminiscences.
“None of your business,” Guinevere said, shooting a glare at the girl. Alice merely smiled. Unflappable, that girl, and worse, she always seemed amused. Did she think this was all some game?
“There’s no need to worry,” said the cell’s other human occupant. Sheena.
She was an interesting one. Guinevere had never met or seen any of the sword dancers of Haruo, the land of always spring, firsthand, but she had read about them extensively. She knew a great deal about a great deal. Books were a wonderful resource.
But she was swiftly learning that there was nothing like experiencing the real thing for oneself.
Sheena seemed tall to Guinevere, but she had to adjust that assessment. She was only five-foot-four, so any woman taller than herself seemed tall — including, frustratingly, the so-called-Queen of Hearts. Sheena was probably the same height as the Queen-pretender, about five-foot-seven, Guinevere guessed. And she certainly made a striking first impression, before she even spoke. Her elegant, many-layered attire was sleeveless, with a short layered type of pant underneath a translucent wraparound skirt. Colors popped — purple was her primary color, with bits of silver, blue, and red to distinguish layers and details. But more than that, her arms and much of her legs were bare, revealing a toned, athletic physique that was as beautiful as it was physically impressive. This was a woman who devoted her life to a challenging, physical craft; that was clear without even knowing that she was a sword dancer.
And she was striking. Her intent, focused violet eyes captured Guinevere’s attention instantly. Then there was her hair, silky and straight, dark as a new moon’s midnight sky. Long, sideswept bangs narrowly avoided getting in her eyes, while the back was done up in a multi-layered do that Guinevere had never seen before — not a bun, though similar, with her hair seemingly folded together multiple times, much flatter than a bun, then held together by a wide band and fitted through with four separate Haruo-style hair pin ornaments. Each of these were silver, ending in tiny round bells shaped like cherry blossoms.
And she had bells in more than just her hair. Several bangles adorned each wrist and ankle, with round bells on them that didn’t make a sound even when Sheena shifted her posture. More than the sword — which was missing from Sheena at the moment, no doubt confiscated like Guinevere’s — those adornments were a sword dancer’s true weapons.
Clearly, the Queen-pretender wasn’t as well-read as the true Queen.
“You see?” Alice said, nodding appreciatively to Sheena. “If she says we needn’t worry, then we needn’t worry. All will be well. After all, Tobias has a plan. Although I wish Flynn would hurry up. They took my trunk.” She pouted slightly at that, folding her arms across her chest.
Tobias.
Guinevere would very much rather not think of him. There was something strange between him and the Queen-pretender. They knew each other, that much was obvious. And while he claimed to be uninterested, there was no denying the Queen-pretender’s astonishing beauty, and Guinevere had read plenty of tales about tragic heroism. Nearly all of them saw the great and noble hero undone by a wicked woman’s charms. How could she be sure Tobias wouldn’t add his name to that long list of fallen legends?
“You said he’s chosen to rely on his dog?” Sheena asked. Guinevere noticed, then, that Ava had made yet another friend. She was curled up beside Sheena, contentedly receiving soft side-pets from the sword dancer. She still occasionally pawed at her snout and let out a soft whimper, but she was overall quite content with her new friend.
“Apparently Flynn will be our savior,” Alice said.
“I don’t doubt it,” Sheena said. She smiled. “And Flynn won’t be alone. I’m sure it won’t be long before Akko finds him. Together, they’re sure to see us free.”
“Akko?” Guinevere asked. It was a strange name, and she’d had to say it in her head twice before trusting herself to pronouncing it properly. It was deceptive in its simplicity, elongating the middle consonant in a way that no Albian word or name ever did.
“If you’d been paying attention, you’d already know about him,” Alice said, rolling her eyes.
Insufferable child.
“Akko is my dearest friend and most trusted partner,” Sheena said, and the smile on her face, the warmth in her voice, immediately set Guinevere at ease. “He’s much smaller than Ava or Flynn, so his options for getting around undetected are better. But being so small also presents limits. If Flynn is as competent as we all hope, then the two of them combined will be potent.”
Guinevere almost laughed. But then her eyes drifted to Ava, and all skepticism and derision fled from her mind.
They trust their animals completely. And why shouldn’t they? I know well just how brilliant dogs are — and considering how frustratingly competent Tobias proved himself to be, I’m sure Flynn is truly his better half. Not to mention, Ava was quite taken with him. If Ava trusts Flynn, then we all can. Combine him with this mysterious Akko…
Yes. I’m sure we have a chance. Count on the brilliance and loyalty of animal companions.
And once we’re free…
Then the Queen of Hearts’ pathetic farce of a queendom will come crashing down around her. I’ll show her what a true Queen is capable of.