Heartless

by Marissa Meyer

I pictured to myself the Queen of Hearts as a sort of embodiment of ungovernable passion— a blind and aimless Fury.

“Please,” said Catherine, “cause a distraction. Anything!” Cheshire’s tail twitched, and he vanished. Only his voice lingered, murmuring, “With pleasure, Lady Catherine.”

“Are you all right?” “Nevermore,” said his Raven, who was perched on the edge of a metal bucket. The Joker cut him a glare. “Don’t be rude.” “’Tisn’t rude to rebuke an arbitrary greeting, a nonsense question upon first meeting. To be all right implies an impossible phase. We hope for mostly right on the best of our days.”

“I can almost guarantee that your legs are still attached, though there is an awful lot of fabric disguising them. I’ll go searching for them now if you’d like me to.” His expression was innocent, his tone sincere.

His touch was shockingly intimate compared to the touches she was used to—those brief, civilized encounters during a waltz or quadrille.

The Joker’s entire face lit up. “Can it be! A real-life lady with a laugh like that! I believed you were naught but mythological creatures. Please, do it again.”

“I meant no offense. A laugh like that is richer than gold to a man of my position. I’ll make it my life’s work to hear the sound again. Every day, if it pleases you. No—twice a day, and at least once before breakfast. A royal joker must set the highest of expectations.”

The way he had touched her hand had awoken something inside her she had never felt before. Something giddy, but also nervous. Something curious, but also afraid. And if her dreams were to be believed, he was a very, very good kisser.

“It is a dangerous thing to unbelieve something only because it frightens you.”

Margaret scoffed. “Why—I daresay the Countess is flirting with him! What a vile woman.” “I’m not sure—” “I could grab on to any man’s arm, too, if I wanted to pretend to have a crooked spine.” “To be fair, she does have a crooked spine.”

Im dead.

Cath ducked and swiveled to follow its path through the sky—straight toward an enormous jet-black raven. Catherine gasped. The hummingbird froze mid-flight and backed up fast on its fluttering wings. It hesitated a moment, not knowing what else to do, then turned and flew off toward the hedge maze.

The look had been just long enough to fan the flames of her curiosity, and short enough to put none of them out.

CATHERINE ALLOWED HER favorite hedgehog to sit on her shoulder, so long as it stayed calm and agreed not to poke her neck with its quills.

The King let out an annoyed huff and shook his flamingo by its scrawny legs. “We practiced this, you foul fowl! You can’t have stage fright now.”

“Well said, Lady Mearle!” cheered the Duke, standing alone to the side of the crowd. “No one asked you!” she yelled back.

Cath resisted the urge to pat him on the head and offer him a biscuit for a job well done.

She stole glimpses of him again and again, like gathering unsatisfying crumbs in hopes they could be re-formed into a cake.

But the rose felt like a whispered message, a hushed glance across a crowded room. Something precious and not to be shared.

“You must think I’m a fool to even consider rejecting him.” “My lady, I am a professional fool. I can say with certainty that you do not have the makings of one.”

His body shifted—a melting of his muscles—and she realized that he was relaxing. She hadn’t seen the tension in his body until it was gone.

“Lady Pinkerton, have you ever been to a real tea party?”

Jest is definitely the Mad Hatter

Something about him seemed crafted for her, and that thought made her face flame, like she was standing too close to a fire.

The Hatter’s inspection had turned to her.

Nevermind i guess he isnt fje hatter

“Many years, love. I would try to count how many, but I’m so far into Time’s debt, I would doubtlessly count them wrong.”

This was why she enjoyed baking. A good dessert could make her feel like she’d created joy at the tips of her fingers. Suddenly, the people around the table were no longer strangers. They were friends and confidantes, and she was sharing with them her magic.

“These walls are but wood and nails, Lady Pinkerton,” Hatta said, his voice low. “The Jabberwock may not fit through the door, but it can doubtlessly open a new one.”

Sounds like the enemy.

“He was a king among beasts,” said Jest. It sounded like a memoriam. “He was indeed,” said Hatta. “Some might call that a checkmate.”

Their hands were intertwined and had been the entire walk, but it didn’t seem as romantic as it had when they had left her home earlier that evening. Rather, there was a need pulsing through her fingertips. For touch. For security. She felt safe with him there, whether or not it was warranted.

… do you know, you’re extra beautiful when you talk about baking.

She tilted her head. “Isn’t a rook a type of bird?” “In Hearts, perhaps.” His fingers tightened around hers. “But in Chess, we are protectors of the White Queen.”

She had never known anyone from Chess. There were rumors that one could travel between the two lands, but there was a maze that no one knew how to get to, and a doorway said to be guarded by fate itself.

“Bizarre little men, the Tweedles. Always fighting over a rattle, but … I suppose they fit the role well enough. Maybe she won’t need me anymore, or Raven.” He looked back and said, with more hesitation, “If I had a reason to stay, that is.”

Uh nooo....

She folded her hands against her stomach, wondering how her fingers had gotten so cold so quickly.

<3

“Do I look like a monster to you?”

Foretelling

“I’ve had such a night. I hardly know where to begin.” “At the beginning would be advisable.”

She scrunched her shoulders, protecting her heart.

“But what I was really thinking was that you talk about him like … like you talk about a piece of decadent chocolate cake.” A honk of a laugh escaped Cath before she could help it. “He is not a piece of cake!” “No, but I can tell you’re already anticipating the time you’ll see him again, and you’re flushed and smiling the same way you do when you’re perfectly satisfied. And … your mother would forbid them both.”

Even after all these years she was surprised to feel the calluses on her friend’s palm.

Cath hummed, thinking of the dream. His dimpled smile, receding farther and farther away. The hollowness in her chest. Her hands reaching after him, trying to take back what he had stolen, but he was always out of reach.

Uh no.

“Why, yes, I would enjoy a cup of tea. I take mine with lots of cream, and no tea. Thank you.”

Whereas, to me, life is all numbers and logic. Profit and loss. Practical and safe. I thought it might be nice to let myself just … dream. For once.”

Though she was anxious about the contest, she wasn’t afraid.

The Hatter had made for her a replica of a rose macaron. Two meringue cookies were made from cream-colored muslin and speckled with pink sparkles, and the sweet buttercream filling was constructed from layer upon layer of gathered lace. It was ridiculous and unflattering in every way. Cath loved it immediately.

“Reputations are fickle. Profits are not.”

Was he mad already? She couldn’t help inspecting him, newly speculative and curious. He didn’t seem mad. No more mad than anyone else she knew. No more mad than she was herself. They were all a little mad, if one was to be forthright.

his voice flowing over the shore as easily as the crashing waves,

Jest’s presence lingered in the corner of her eyes, as tempting as fresh vanilla ice cream,

“I was referring to your determination to make me blush, for no other purpose than to laugh at me later.” He blanched, then took a step closer. Cath could hear the creak of his leather boots. “I assure you that when I replay this conversation in my head later, it will not be in laughter.”

“You are stunning in that absurd hat. Absolutely, undeniably stunning. I trust that was Hatta’s goal, but he can’t know how well he accomplished it, else he would have deemed it improper to let you leave his hat shop so adorned.”

He licked his lips—a small, cruel movement that made her own lips tingle. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Lady Catherine Pinkerton of Rock Turtle Cove. I’ve been trying, but it’s useless. You’ve had me mesmerized from the first moment I saw you in that red dress, and I don’t know what to do about it, other than to use every skill at my disposal to try and mesmerize you back.”