the dye wasn’t the right shade of red. He was fixing it. We tried to get the needle away from him, but he was on the edge of the staircase, so. . . .”
“So you let him do it, rather than risk him falling.”
They both nodded. Dinah was tempted to rage at them the way she had raged at the Spade, but it was no use. She knew Charles, and she knew that he couldn’t be controlled, bottled, or taught. His mind worked a different way—short flashes of brilliance followed by dark plunges into his macabre imaginary world.
“Did you take away all of his sewing needles?”
“Yes, Your Highness. We only let him use the small needles now, which have actually led to the production of some very detailed, elaborate work.”
Dinah looked over at Charles, who was gleefully slashing apple-green taffeta into thin ribbons with his long fingernails. She walked over and kissed him on the side of the head. His dirty hair, ever matted and wild, always smelled a bit like her mother.
“I have to go now, but I’ll be back in a few days,” she told him.
Charles whipped his head around to stare at animals on the ceiling and began singing. “Days and nights, the King sings. Tusks and musks and wooble fire. He sings with a black tongue, fire in his lungs, his lungs.”
“Where did the seahorse go?” Dinah asked.
Charles opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, stroking it slowly. “Down, down, down the rabbit hole!” he crowed.
Dinah shut her eyes.
“Not to worry, Your Highness; we’ll find it,” Lucy promised, before she returned to sorting buttons.
Charles was still singing when Dinah walked out of the atrium, her heart compressing with each step as the song, so lovely and mad, followed her down the marble hallways as she walked back to her chambers.
Lying in front of her door was an elaborately folded invitation—her summons to the Royal Croquet Game. It had already been opened, the seal of the King broken. With a sigh, she untied the seven pink ribbons that held the card in place. Something was leaking through the envelope—ink? Dinah pulled the card out and tilted the elaborate calligraphy into the light.
Your presence for the Royal Croquet Game is requested. The Princess will play in the final game, her opponents, the Duchess and the King of Hearts.
Dinah felt the air whoosh out of her lungs. She had never played against her father before, ever. She was always set against a lady of the court—someone she could easily beat, and the King was always paired with Xavier Juflee, The Knave of Hearts.
The black liquid dripped again, this time landing on her shoe. Dinah turned the envelope upside down with a shake. The head of a white mouse, severed at the neck, fell out of the envelope and bounced on the floor. Dinah leapt back with a shriek. Shaking, she turned the invitation over, but there was nothing on it. Kneeling, she touched the mouse head with the end of a trembling finger. A new feeling shot through her, and she felt wide awake as she stared at the tiny lips of the mouse, pulled back in a macabre smile. Dinah was both fascinated and afraid, devastated that there was even more reason to dread tomorrow.
Chapter Five
Dinah spooned plum pudding over her flat fig biscuits as Harris hopped back and forth in front of her, wine dashing out from his large goblet. “You are going to be late, late, late for the Royal Croquet Game. We cannot be late, Your Highness.” Harris shuffled around the table, his long checkered robe flapping after him.
“I would rather get run over by Hornhooves than play croquet with Vittiore today,” grumbled Dinah, draining a glass of juice. The mouse head still weighed heavily on her mind, and she couldn’t shake the image of it bouncing across the stone floor.
“That may be the case, Princess, but you still must go. It is the precursor to All Tea’s Day, and it is expected of the royal family to not only be in attendance, but to play after all the townspeople have finished their
“So you let him do it, rather than risk him falling.”
They both nodded. Dinah was tempted to rage at them the way she had raged at the Spade, but it was no use. She knew Charles, and she knew that he couldn’t be controlled, bottled, or taught. His mind worked a different way—short flashes of brilliance followed by dark plunges into his macabre imaginary world.
“Did you take away all of his sewing needles?”
“Yes, Your Highness. We only let him use the small needles now, which have actually led to the production of some very detailed, elaborate work.”
Dinah looked over at Charles, who was gleefully slashing apple-green taffeta into thin ribbons with his long fingernails. She walked over and kissed him on the side of the head. His dirty hair, ever matted and wild, always smelled a bit like her mother.
“I have to go now, but I’ll be back in a few days,” she told him.
Charles whipped his head around to stare at animals on the ceiling and began singing. “Days and nights, the King sings. Tusks and musks and wooble fire. He sings with a black tongue, fire in his lungs, his lungs.”
“Where did the seahorse go?” Dinah asked.
Charles opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, stroking it slowly. “Down, down, down the rabbit hole!” he crowed.
Dinah shut her eyes.
“Not to worry, Your Highness; we’ll find it,” Lucy promised, before she returned to sorting buttons.
Charles was still singing when Dinah walked out of the atrium, her heart compressing with each step as the song, so lovely and mad, followed her down the marble hallways as she walked back to her chambers.
Lying in front of her door was an elaborately folded invitation—her summons to the Royal Croquet Game. It had already been opened, the seal of the King broken. With a sigh, she untied the seven pink ribbons that held the card in place. Something was leaking through the envelope—ink? Dinah pulled the card out and tilted the elaborate calligraphy into the light.
Your presence for the Royal Croquet Game is requested. The Princess will play in the final game, her opponents, the Duchess and the King of Hearts.
Dinah felt the air whoosh out of her lungs. She had never played against her father before, ever. She was always set against a lady of the court—someone she could easily beat, and the King was always paired with Xavier Juflee, The Knave of Hearts.
The black liquid dripped again, this time landing on her shoe. Dinah turned the envelope upside down with a shake. The head of a white mouse, severed at the neck, fell out of the envelope and bounced on the floor. Dinah leapt back with a shriek. Shaking, she turned the invitation over, but there was nothing on it. Kneeling, she touched the mouse head with the end of a trembling finger. A new feeling shot through her, and she felt wide awake as she stared at the tiny lips of the mouse, pulled back in a macabre smile. Dinah was both fascinated and afraid, devastated that there was even more reason to dread tomorrow.
Chapter Five
Dinah spooned plum pudding over her flat fig biscuits as Harris hopped back and forth in front of her, wine dashing out from his large goblet. “You are going to be late, late, late for the Royal Croquet Game. We cannot be late, Your Highness.” Harris shuffled around the table, his long checkered robe flapping after him.
“I would rather get run over by Hornhooves than play croquet with Vittiore today,” grumbled Dinah, draining a glass of juice. The mouse head still weighed heavily on her mind, and she couldn’t shake the image of it bouncing across the stone floor.
“That may be the case, Princess, but you still must go. It is the precursor to All Tea’s Day, and it is expected of the royal family to not only be in attendance, but to play after all the townspeople have finished their
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