By the next evening, Dinah’s army had reached the outer villages of Wonderland proper. She circled Morte around the settling troops as they nervously unpacked their camp. Dinah’s heart hammered quietly in her chest as she looked around. For quite some time, they had seen only the natural, magical places of Wonderland and Hu-Yuhar. Now that she could just make out the buildings on the horizon, Dinah knew there was no turning back. It had been a long time since she had seen buildings of wood, glass, and stone. They had arrived—Wonderland proper began just over the nearest crag.
The small villages of Wonderland proper held townsfolk and craftsmen, but mostly farmers. If she squinted, she could see fields of crops and dewy pink flowers, dotting the horizon like a blossoming petal stretched thin on the ground. They were lovely in their overgrown tangle.
Her army proceeded to unpack its gear around her, and Dinah began assisting her men where they would let her. What should have taken hours took minutes, and soon all the Spades and Yurkei settled quietly into their tents on opposite sides of the field. The sighs of weary men could be heard as the daylight began to wane. She ordered that the packs of food be opened, and that each man get twice his normal amount. The men would eat well tonight. This, at least, she could give them.
Dinah rode Morte up the neighboring hills, climbing to where she could see the dilapidated blades of a windmill creaking in the breeze. She took a deep, terrified breath. They were on the cusp of battle. Up ahead was Callicarpa, a small town at the bottom of a low valley, with its famous old windmill marking its farthest northern border. From the town center, plains climbed steadily upward until they encountered a sudden and violent slope down into the meadow that surrounded Wonderland Palace. She stared at the town. It was eerily still. She turned around on Morte to speak to her guards.
“I’m going down to look at Callicarpa. Something seems strange about it.”
“No!” snapped Yur-Jee, using his new favorite word. He was still warming up to Dinah. “This not task for queen.” He cleared his throat and commanded something in Yurkei.
Before long, Bah-kan rode up beside them, his damp chest hair glistening in the sunlight, his large blade clutched closely against his leg. It’s like seeing a bear ride a horse, Dinah thought. Even though astride Morte she was several feet taller than he was, Bah-kan leveled his gaze at Dinah. She felt small in comparison.
“Take twelve of your finest warriors ahead to the town. Do not harm or touch anything or anybody. We simply want to see if it will be safe to cross through. Return in less than an hour’s time. This is a scouting mission, not an attack.”
Bah-kan smiled at Dinah before he galloped down the hill to handpick his men. The Yurkei quickly mounted and soon were stampeding toward Dinah, happy to be doing something. She watched silently as the Yurkei whirled past her on their pale steeds, her short hair fluttering in their breezy wake.
“They are so . . . swift,” she noted with a smile. She turned to Sir Gorrann, who had ridden up beside her. “How can we train the Spades to move that quickly?”
Sir Gorrann gave a deep laugh. “Oh, my queen. Yeh make me chuckle. There is nothing yeh could do to train those men to move like the Yurkei.”
Morte gave an impatient snort and began driving his hooves deep into the ground. He shifted so violently that Dinah was almost pitched from the saddle. It was a long way down, something she knew well.
“What’s wrong with yer beast?” asked Sir Gorrann.
“He wants to go.” She climbed off him, wincing at the pain in her shoulder as she gripped the reins above.
“Does that still hurt yeh?” The Spade tilted his head, concerned.
“Not much,” she answered, rubbing the sore spot where the chief of the Yurkei had stabbed her with a shallow blade. “It’s my daily reminder of Mundoo’s long memory.”
Sir Gorrann leaned over and rested his hand lightly on her cheek. “And how is yer heart these days? Healing?”
Dinah looked up at him with suddenly blurry black eyes. “That is not your business, sir.”
She slapped Morte on his hindquarters and he happily galloped off in the same direction as the Yurkei horses.
“How do you know he’ll come back?”
“I don’t.” Dinah gave a small smile as she began picking wild herbs. She could add them to the scouting party’s stew late tonight, one more way to show the men that while she ruled over them, she served them as well. “Morte is not my steed. He is a soldier, under my command, and I am likewise under his command. We are equals.”
“And do yeh trust him in battle, Your Majesty? Have you ever seen a Hornhoov in battle?” Sir Gorrann looked down skeptically from Cyndy’s back.
“I have not. Well”—she paused—“I did see him kill a white bear.”
He dismounted and began helping her set up her tent. Dinah liked being just outside the camp, away from the group. It gave her room to breathe. Slowly, he unfurled the linen flaps that made up the entrance. “Yer father—er, sorry, I mean the king—raided some of the outlying Yurkei territories when yeh were just a babe. During those skirmishes, I saw two Hornhooves in battle. One was Morte. The other one was white and massive, even bigger than he is.”
“And?”
“They were utterly without mercy. They crushed men like insects under their hooves. Those beasts ran straight into the fold, killing without remorse, even their own men. They would stomp a man to death while impaling another on their bone spikes. I saw a Yurkei spear the white Hornhoov right through the flank, and the beast didn’t even flinch. It had arrows sticking out of its face. It just kept killing and killing, until someone attempted to sever its head from its body. The Hornhoov killed that man as well, just before its massive head fell from its body.”
Dinah could feel the blood draining from her face. “Morte wouldn’t . . .”
“He would. I beg of yeh, do not forget his true nature. When yeh bring him into a battle, yer releasing carnage itself. He could kill yeh, and think of how embarrassing it would be to lose yer life to yer own horse just when yer winning the war. Think about that!” He groaned. “Then Cheshire will hurry to set himself as king. Aye, and no one wants that.”
Cheshire as king? Dinah had never considered it. Either she would be queen, or she would die, and so would all those loyal to her. The thought that anything else could happen was unnerving.
“What I’m saying, Yer Majesty, is be careful with him. I do not think Morte would ever intentionally hurt yeh, but once he is in the thick of battle, he might not know what he’s doing.”
“I hear what you are saying, Sir Gorrann. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.”
Together, they pitted the poles into the ground and pulled Dinah’s tent up. She watched in awe as her black Spade banners curled out on the wind, snapping in the sharp breeze. A talented painter among the Spades had amended the banners to include a red heart, broken down the middle and shifted off center. It was her sigil, same as the one painted on her breastplate. A truer symbol had never been assigned, because her heart was not whole.