LITMIR.BIZ

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talked quietly as they walked, the high lilt of his voice echoing off the walls.

      “I’m sure this was hard for you today, Your Highness. Not only are you getting a younger and much more beautiful sister in your sixteenth year of life, but you heard a clear tale of your father’s infidelity to your dear mother, gods rest her heart. An intelligent girl like you can’t be surprised. Your father’s desires for other women are well-known.” Cheshire paused, stroking his long chin. “He did not deserve Davianna.”

      “Don’t speak of my mother to me, not now. And she’s not my sister,” snapped Dinah. “She’s a bastard child.”

      Cheshire’s thin fingers wrapped around her elbow, and she found herself yanked backward, face-to-face with him, their noses inches from touching. His lips curled back in anger, revealing his hungry white teeth.

      “Listen to me, Dinah,” he hissed. “You must never let the King of Hearts hear you say that. Things are going to change for you, child, and you had better be made of stronger stuff than the whiny brat you are now. You may be almost of age to be queen, but you are hardly ready.”

      Dinah twisted her body back from his. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” she replied, her voice wavering. “And I don’t care. That girl is not my sister, and you are not Harris. You know nothing about me. Where is he? Where is Harris?”

      “Harris is not here, not that he would be of much use to you outside of tutoring and picking out your gowns in the morning. He does not know about this passage. No one does. Just you and me. There might come a time when it will be of use to you, I am sure. There are many curious things in Wonderland Palace and the Black Towers.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “You had best learn everything you do not already know, Princess. Up until now you have been a spoiled girl who spends her days playing in the stables or making doe eyes at Wardley Ghane. Wonderland is a much darker and more twisted place than you imagine.”

      Something inside Dinah broke. She could take no more of his ridiculous cryptic warnings or his venomous smile. It occurred to her that he was probably here on an errand from the king, to scare her into accepting Vittiore.

      “Why are you talking to me?” she snapped. “You don’t know anything about me! Leave me be! Please!”

      Spinning quickly away from Cheshire, she plunged into the dark tunnel ahead, not looking where she was running, not caring. She was sprinting now, her breathing heavy, her footsteps echoing through the darkness. She turned once and then again, spinning deeper and deeper into the depths of the tunnel, until all she could smell was earth and cold. Cheshire disappeared into the darkness behind her, his calls for her fading quietly into the black. She sprinted beneath the depths of the palace as fast as her jeweled feet could carry her. She turned right, then left, then slipped through a vertical slit in the wall. The dancing pink flames of the lanterns dimmed gradually as the tunnel deepened.

      Dinah wasn’t thinking—only running, running as fast as she could. She kept seeing her father’s proud gaze at Vittiore and the devastated expression on Harris’s face as he let her walk into the Great Hall. The tunnel narrowed, and through her tears Dinah could see the stone walls closing in on her. Close to hysterics, Dinah knelt on the cold floor and let the tears wash out, a pouring sob that was deafeningly loud in the tight space. Weeping and pounding on the stone, she let out a loud scream of anger.

      How dare he? How dare he be unfaithful to my mother? How dare he bring me in front of the court only to shame me? Why does he hate me so much?

      In her mind, she saw Vittiore. Vittiore, her new sister, the bastard of her father’s loins, the proof that he didn’t love her mother as he claimed so publicly. Vittiore, with her long blond hair and cornflower-blue eyes. Dinah raked long furrows into the damp earth. She vowed to herself that she would never befriend Vittiore. She would not speak to her unless forced, and she would not see her perfectly formed face if she could avoid it. It would never be. Speaking to Vittiore would be a betrayal of her mother. Her mother …

      Great heaving sobs escaped her lips, and she was grateful, for once, to have no servants nearby. Here, it was just her and the dirt. She gradually calmed, the darkness like a heavy blanket draped across her wide shoulders. Dinah wiped her eyes and looked around. All was silent. She decided to wander farther. The tunnel grew colder as it went deeper—the air blowing around her had a bitter bite to it. Thick black roots, twisting like snakes, grew overhead. They reminded her of witch’s bones, and more than once, she swore she could see them moving and reaching toward her when she looked away. This was a place of dark things.

      Dinah stopped a minute to catch her breath. A single lantern lit a passageway in front of her, the flame sputtering in the darkness. She walked through the opening, and in a few steps she came to a round patch of dirt framed by three archways. Each led into a tunnel, and standing in the middle of the circle, Dinah couldn’t remember out of which one she had just come. They all looked the same, each lit by a single pink torch. There were symbols etched into the keystone above each opening: a heart, a tree, and one that she didn’t recognize—a triangle with a wavy bottom. The sea? She peered at it again. It must be a mountain, she thought. The Yurkei Mountains.

      Dinah ran her fingers over the symbols. They were thinly raised up from the stone, almost invisible to the naked eye. Her heart pounded in her chest, and the thought of her father discovering her decomposed body when she couldn’t find her way back brought Dinah a surprising rush of joy. She furrowed her brow and stared back at the carvings. After a moment, she bent down and peered into the heart tunnel.

      Yes—she could see her footprints in the dirt. She let out a sigh of relief. That was the way she had come. It made sense after all; she was the Princess of Hearts. Letting her curiosity lead her, Dinah ventured into the archway that featured the tree symbol. It was even more crooked than the way she had come, and the tunnel kept shrinking until Dinah had to crouch to fit into it, her head brushing the dirty ceiling. It compressed again, and she found herself crawling. The tunnel wound down in a seemingly never-ending curve. White moss began creeping across the walls, and all sounds of palace life ceased overhead. Then, when Dinah felt she couldn’t possibly crawl any farther, it opened up into a dusty stone wall, held in place by bolts as thick as her arm. A dead end.

      Dinah stood and wrapped her arms around herself, attempting to halt the shivers that shook her shoulders. How long had she been in these tunnels? Time had somehow become irrelevant. Hours? Days? Cold air wafted around her, twisting down from above and shifting the dirt under her feet. She raised her hands above her head and felt fresh air kiss her fingertips. Dinah’s eyes followed the bolts upward until they rested on a faintly outlined circle far above her head, its dusty handle barely visible.

      A door. Her eyes widened. These aren’t bolts, they’re a ladder! Dinah climbed six bolts before her feet caught on her dress and she tumbled violently to the tunnel floor, scraping her knees and palms.

      On her next attempt, she left her dress and shoes behind. Grunting and sweating with the effort and wearing only a slip, Dinah pulled herself to the topmost bolt and pushed against the door. Dust showered her as the door creaked with resistance. Using all her strength, Dinah bent her head and pushed with her shoulders, praying that her feet would not slide from the bolts. Once she did that, the door easily opened, mud and grass raining down on her from above and coating her eyelashes.

      With strenuous effort, Dinah heaved herself out through the hole. She sneezed a few times and looked around in fascination as she lay on the ground, feeling her ribs contract. Above her, the Wonderland stars twinkled and, if you watched closely, inched through the sky ever so slightly. Constellations in Wonderland were never constant, and Dinah loved seeing the changing patterns from night to night—circles, spirals, lines, clusters—the stars never formed the same arrangement twice. And here they were, her stars, so bright they lit up all Wonderland. Never had she been so glad to feel the cool breeze on her skin. She only now realized that she had been afraid in the tunnels. Her rage had made her blind. Crisp night air caressed her body. The night breeze dried her tears and cleared her mind.

      Once her breathing returned to normal, Dinah

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