Page 84 of Heartless

‘My b—oh.’

Catherine heard the King first, his giggles loud over the chatter of the audience, and her dread returned. She turned to see the King of Hearts bobbling across the sandy dance floor.

Her pulse galloped. She had not been in the King’s presence since he’d asked to court her. She wanted to turn and run, but she had already been spotted. The King scurried towards her and pulled himself up on to the stage.

‘Good day to the most pretty, precious, and p- . . . p- . . .’

‘Provisional?’ Jest supplied.

‘Provisional lady in all the land!’ Then the King hesitated, not sure if the description was fitting or not.

Cath cast the Joker a cool look. He grinned.

The King shook his uncertainty away. ‘I must say, that is a very fine hat you’re wearing, Lady Pinkerton. Why, you look almost good enough to eat –my sweet!’ His face was full of blushes and frivolity, and all the horrible lines of poetry written into his cards over the past week came whirring back through Catherine’s head.

She curtsied and tried to be flattered. ‘You’re too kind, Your Majesty. Are you enjoying the festival?’

‘I am indeed!’ He jigged in place, his face all joyful anticipation. ‘It’s all very good fun. Just what the kingdom needed, I daresay.’

She inclined her head. ‘It is nice to have some merriment during these dark times. I’m sure you’ve heard that the Jabberwock attacks have continued.’ A shiver caught hold of her shoulders as she thought of the little carousel pony in the pumpkin patch. ‘And his latest victim, a courageous Lion—’

The King held up his hands, backing away as ifshewere the monster. ‘Please, I beg of you, my darling, let’s not speak of it. I break out in hives every time that horrid creature is mentioned.’ He pulled away the collar of his cloak to reveal a newly developing rash.

Cath frowned. ‘But you are doing something about it, aren’t you? I’ve thought that perhaps you should hire a knight or a monster slayer. In the stories, there was always some brave soul that volunteered to slay the Jabberwock, and that seemed to go rather well, judging from all the ballads that came out of it. Well, I suppose it didn’t go very well for the Jabberwock, but all things considered—’

‘Oh, oh!’ The King clapped. ‘The lobster quadrille is about to begin! I’ve been eager for it all morning!’

Cath paused. ‘Yes, any moment now, I suspect.’

The King was sweating profusely, not meeting her eyes. She recognized shame in his expression, but it only annoyed her. Silly or not, clever or not, he was the King of Hearts. He should be doing something about the Jabberwock, shouldn’t he?

She sighed. ‘I take it you’ll be watching the quadrille, Your Majesty?’

‘I wouldn’t miss it,’ he said, only too happy to look at her now that she wasn’t pressuring him about the attacks. His eyes glittered.

She envied the ostriches, wishing she could bury her head beneath the sand.

When she didn’t say anything more, the King’s expression turned halfway pleading. ‘Have you yet . . . chosen a dance partner? For the quadrille?’

Guilt scratched at her. Cath felt as heavy with it as if her dress had been soaked through with seawater. Jest’s presence lingered in the corner of her eyes, as tempting as fresh vanilla ice cream, but she did her best to ignore him.

‘Not yet, Your Majesty.’

His eyes brightened again.

And for a moment – just a moment – Catherine imagined turning to Jest and holding her hand out to him and asking if he would do her the honour of dancing the lobster quadrille.

She pictured her parents’ baffled expressions, the surprised murmur of the crowd, Jest’s sure hands on her waist, and she bit her tongue against a burble of glee.

‘Your Majesty, good day! What a profound pleasure this is.’

The fantasy crumbled away as her mother nudged in between her and the King.

She recoiled.

‘Good day, Lady Pinkerton!’

They shared the requisite greetings, her mother’s curtsy far grander than Catherine’s had been. Catherine inspected her own feet, knowing that to look up would be to look at Jest – his magnetism was stronger by the moment.

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