Prologue
I was taking an evening stroll in the gardens. It was a common occurrence for me, walking the muffled paths among the white roses looking up at me with faces like peaceful moons. The stately walls of the castle loomed above me, rosy in the coming twilight. My fingers trailed across a pale petal, admiring the simple perfection of the colorless flower. I tilted my face up, soaking in the last light of the day. Climbing vines of roses that hung heavy on the palace walls were not yet cast in shadow, instead awash with the red hues of sunset. King Magne always said that was his favorite part about the white roses that cast a veil across the castle grounds - their versatility. Always willing to shift their shade when prodded by another force. They even change their color to that of the water they’re placed in, transforming the pure blossoms into bursts of color.
That was how Magne and I started our courtship. He would give me mountains of white roses cut by his own hands, then I would change their color and arrange them around the castle where he would find them. It was a lovely game we played. Eventually, he came to my parents and me with a rainbow of blossoms to ask to court me. They said yes, of course. We had gone to lunch together just that afternoon in celebration of the third month of our courtship. He gave me white rose earrings with fine gold details, his fingers sliding along my jaw and neck as he put them on. I reached up and brushed my thumb against the marble carvings.
My musings were interrupted by what appeared to be a disturbance in the air. At first, I thought it was an illusion, fragments of light playing off each other at the in-between time of day. But the fragments got larger as more of them appeared, forming a kaleidoscope of disjointed hues above the ground in front of me. It was blurry and indistinct in the beginning, but the image got sharper until I knew exactly what I was staring at.
The Looking Glass. No Looking Glass doorway had been seen in Hearts for ages. Chess had been largely sealed from the rest of Wonderland once war broke out in the magic-ridden region, the Red and White Queens intent on destroying each other.
Before I could decide what to do, a lanky body tumbled through the doorway, sprawling on the path at my feet. My heart jerked at the sight of someone vulnerable and in need. I rushed to him immediately, heedless of the fact that he was from Chess and had just quite literally fallen from the sky.
“Are you all right?” I had cried, cradling his head in my arms, soft black locks tickling my wrists. His lashes fluttered, disoriented, and his eyes came to rest on my face. His irises were golden and, though dim with the whiplash of entering a new world, gave the impression of strong wit, intelligence, and charisma.
“I- I think so,” he stammered, pushing himself up onto one lean arm. “Actually, yes, I’m better than I’ve been in a long while.”
“Whoever are you?” I wondered, slipping my hands around his shoulders and helping lift him up until we were sitting with our knees touching on the garden path. He was dressed in a simple tunic and breeches, quite at odds with my voluminous white gown. “A Looking Glass! From Chess! I should hope you have quite a good story indeed.”
The edges of his mouth turned almost imperceptibly down. “My name is Jest, and I do come from the land of Chess, my lady, but I beg of you, tell no one.” I furrowed my brow and he continued “The White Queen’s army has just raided my town. Everything was destroyed- I’m the only survivor.” A soft little sigh escaped my mouth and I took his hand in my own.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmured. He gave me a small smile, eyes lingering on my face.
“It’s not alright, but I will tell you it is so, as not to worry the fair maiden who runs without fear to a stranger in need.” A faint tinge of blush colored my cheeks and I tucked my chin down into my shoulder. He reached his free hand out, skimming the curve of my jaw with the pad of his thumb and bringing my gaze back to his shimmering eyes.
“I am on the run now, on the run from the White Queen and her thirst for the blood of innocents. Not a soul saw me pass through the Looking Glass in Chess, the only one who knows is you. If the story gets out there’s a chance of it making its way back, and then the White Queen will stop at nothing to have me made an example of. So please,” he murmured softly, begging me with those eloquent eyes. “Please keep my secret.”
He was so kind. With such a good reason. How could I have said no?
“Jest,” I whispered, his name rolling on my tongue, “I swear on the Sacred Sword of Hearts, your secret will never cross my lips. I solemnly promise that everything you have shared is safe with me.”
A smile broke over his features like a sudden dawn. “Thank you, my lady,” he breathed, and he took me into his arms, wrapping one around my waist and the other around my back. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to return his embrace, sealing the promise between us and celebrating doing a kind thing for someone who needed it.
Naturally, that’s when everything went wrong. I don’t recall exactly how it happened. There were loud voices and rough hands and suddenly, I was in the dirt on the edge of the pathway with Magne standing over me. There was none of his familiar jovialness in his expression, instead, it had been replaced by a ferocity that threatened to consume all it touched. He looked down at me demandingly.
“Was this man assaulting you, Lady Vivaldi?” His tone was barely controlled, dozens of unnameable emotions underneath.
In my bewildered state, I blankly shook my head. “No, my king.”
“Then what,” he demanded, words biting with blind, breathless anger “were you doing in his arms?”
My mind, moving slower than molasses, finally understood the implications. King Magne, my betrothed, had found me secluded on a garden pathway in the arms of a commoner. “Oh, no, Magne, you misunderstand.”
“Then make me understand,” he said, the biting tone not even slightly abated. “If this isn’t what it looks like, you must be able to explain it to me.”
The promise on the Sacred Sword. The most solemn oath in Hearts. “I can’t exactly explain, my king, for I have-”
“You can’t explain.” His words had become flat. He looked at me like a stranger.
“You know me! Magne, you know I would never betray you.”
“THEN WHAT HAS HAPPENED HERE!” The words poured out of him like a torrential hurricane. “IF YOU PROMISE YOU HAVE NOT BETRAYED ME THEN TELL ME!”
Suddenly it was my words that fell flat. “I can’t.” Onlookers had gathered, clustered in the castle windows and emerging from elsewhere in the garden. My cheeks burned as they whispered to each other, tucking their mouths behind their hands as if it would disguise them.
Jest stepped forward, putting forth a placating hand. “Lady Vivaldi has done nothing untoward, I assure you. Please, let this blow over-”
He was cut off as Magne shoved him to the wall, gripping his neck and withdrawing his sword.
“Swine! I should cut off your head!” Gasping, I had leaped to my feet, locking my hands around his arm.
“Magne, don’t! He’s done nothing!” He had looked down at me with dark eyes, sad and hurt and angry. He drew a thin line of blood from Jest’s neck and threw both him and the sword to the ground. He stalked away with his chin in the air, not looking back. I could have gone after him, continued pleading, or, perhaps more effectively, tucked my arm in his, turning up my nose at the bleeding man behind me. If I had acted accordingly, maybe, just maybe, he would have let me back in.
But I couldn’t leave Jest bleeding. I had crouched over him, trying to ignore the crowd of gossiping nobles. I grabbed the first thing I thought would work - a handful of white rose petals - and pressed them to his neck in hopes of staunching the bleeding. They turned a brilliant crimson as the blood soaked through. One of them landed on my gauzy white gown and stuck there, shining a bright, perfect scarlet. He stirred gently beneath my touch and his eyes fluttered open for the second time on the garden path.
“I’m. So sorry.” he said laboriously, with pauses between his words for heavy breaths.
“It’s not your fault,” I murmured, tearing a strip of cloth from my dress to tie securely around his throat. Blood still dripped through, but less than before, staining the pale fabric as surely as it stained the rose petals.
“You. Have been. So generous. With me.”
“There’s no such thing as too much kindness,” I replied, tying another impromptu bandage.
“You will. Make. A wonderful. Queen. My lady.” I gave him a soft smile and plucked the red rose petal off my dress, holding it gingerly in one hand.
“I hope so. I should go talk to him…”
“Go, Lady Vivaldi. You have done. Plenty enough for me. I will be all right. Thanks to you.” Satisfied that he was breathing better and wouldn’t bleed to death, I squeezed his hand once and hurried in the direction that Magne had gone.
