lost their lives during Redd’s
thirteen-year reign—royals, civilians, card soldiers, chessmen,
palace
guardsmen, and members of the Millinery. The bodies of Queen Genevieve and King Nolan hadn’t been recovered, of course, but Bibwit had surprised Alyss with two of their most intimate keepsakes: a toy spirit-dane invented by her father, and one of her mother’s charm bracelets, both of which he’d kept tucked deep within his robes throughout Redd’s tyranny. These had been enough for the Hereafter Seeds to do their work. Just as a bouquet forming the likeness of Sir Justice watched over his grave, bouquets of camellias, gardenias and lilies resembling Wonderland’s former king and queen now kept vigil over theirs. On either side of the graves rose a simple stone etched with the names of those known to have lost their lives in battles against Redd. Behind all: an obelisk of emerald green, in recognition of those who had gone missing during Redd’s occupation and were now, to their families’ grief, presumed dead. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” Molly said, looking around at the variety of people and creatures in the courtyard. “You’ve got street vendors mingling with suit families as if no one’s blood is purer than another’s.”
Alyss knew this to be a constant theme with Homburg Molly. Half civilian, half Milliner, the girl was particularly sensitive to matters of race and class. “I don’t know, Molly. Judging by the look on Lady Diamond’s face, I’d say you overestimated things a bit.” Alyss called out to the ranking lady as the walrus-butler passed by with a tray of wondercrumpets: “Have a wondercrumpet, Lady Diamond?”
“Ah. A wondercrumpet. Yes,” said the lady, taking one but holding it far from her mouth with no apparent intention of bringing it closer. “You do know how to throw a party, Queen Alyss.” “You think so? I wouldn’t have supposed you enjoyed brushing against so many Wonderlanders of lesser rank.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” the Lady of Diamonds huffed. Alyss didn’t trust the suit families, but there had been no proof of their conspiring with Redd, either before or after her overthrow of Queen Genevieve. Nor had there been any proof of their engaging in outlawed activities that could have secured a conviction in Wondertropolis’ courts. As much as Alyss would have liked the suit families gone, there was politics to consider. Redd had kept them around after her coup for similar reasons: their relationships with business leaders, government officials, and the arbiters who decided the guilt or innocence of the ill-fated brought before them in the name of jurisprudence. Only Jack of Diamonds had been prosecuted, Bibwit’s and the walrus-butler’s evidence against him too overwhelming to ignore; found guilty of treason and racketeering, he’d been punished accordingly.
But why poison my brain with thoughts of Jack of Diamonds? Why, indeed, when Dodge Anders had caught her eye from across the courtyard? It was the first time she was seeing him in his uniform as head of the palace guard. She’d almost forgotten how handsome he could be when dressed in formal attire.
As if it were possible to forget.
She had always thought his was a rough-hewn handsomeness, the four parallel scars on his cheek adding to his looks rather than diminishing them. She’d been thrilled when he requested his father’s former post, and interpreted it as meaning that he would abide by a guardsman’s code instead of avenging Sir Justice’s death. She only hoped that he didn’t become too much like the Dodge of her youth, who had shown an almost religious devotion to propriety, a guardsman’s place in relation to the queen, because
guardsmen, and members of the Millinery. The bodies of Queen Genevieve and King Nolan hadn’t been recovered, of course, but Bibwit had surprised Alyss with two of their most intimate keepsakes: a toy spirit-dane invented by her father, and one of her mother’s charm bracelets, both of which he’d kept tucked deep within his robes throughout Redd’s tyranny. These had been enough for the Hereafter Seeds to do their work. Just as a bouquet forming the likeness of Sir Justice watched over his grave, bouquets of camellias, gardenias and lilies resembling Wonderland’s former king and queen now kept vigil over theirs. On either side of the graves rose a simple stone etched with the names of those known to have lost their lives in battles against Redd. Behind all: an obelisk of emerald green, in recognition of those who had gone missing during Redd’s occupation and were now, to their families’ grief, presumed dead. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” Molly said, looking around at the variety of people and creatures in the courtyard. “You’ve got street vendors mingling with suit families as if no one’s blood is purer than another’s.”
Alyss knew this to be a constant theme with Homburg Molly. Half civilian, half Milliner, the girl was particularly sensitive to matters of race and class. “I don’t know, Molly. Judging by the look on Lady Diamond’s face, I’d say you overestimated things a bit.” Alyss called out to the ranking lady as the walrus-butler passed by with a tray of wondercrumpets: “Have a wondercrumpet, Lady Diamond?”
“Ah. A wondercrumpet. Yes,” said the lady, taking one but holding it far from her mouth with no apparent intention of bringing it closer. “You do know how to throw a party, Queen Alyss.” “You think so? I wouldn’t have supposed you enjoyed brushing against so many Wonderlanders of lesser rank.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” the Lady of Diamonds huffed. Alyss didn’t trust the suit families, but there had been no proof of their conspiring with Redd, either before or after her overthrow of Queen Genevieve. Nor had there been any proof of their engaging in outlawed activities that could have secured a conviction in Wondertropolis’ courts. As much as Alyss would have liked the suit families gone, there was politics to consider. Redd had kept them around after her coup for similar reasons: their relationships with business leaders, government officials, and the arbiters who decided the guilt or innocence of the ill-fated brought before them in the name of jurisprudence. Only Jack of Diamonds had been prosecuted, Bibwit’s and the walrus-butler’s evidence against him too overwhelming to ignore; found guilty of treason and racketeering, he’d been punished accordingly.
But why poison my brain with thoughts of Jack of Diamonds? Why, indeed, when Dodge Anders had caught her eye from across the courtyard? It was the first time she was seeing him in his uniform as head of the palace guard. She’d almost forgotten how handsome he could be when dressed in formal attire.
As if it were possible to forget.
She had always thought his was a rough-hewn handsomeness, the four parallel scars on his cheek adding to his looks rather than diminishing them. She’d been thrilled when he requested his father’s former post, and interpreted it as meaning that he would abide by a guardsman’s code instead of avenging Sir Justice’s death. She only hoped that he didn’t become too much like the Dodge of her youth, who had shown an almost religious devotion to propriety, a guardsman’s place in relation to the queen, because