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With eccentric particularities and a logic that only its inhabitants were able to understand, Wonderland has always been a fascinating place. Full of labyrinths, dead-end roads, it had by definition a hint of madness. Wide meadows and forests filled the land throughout the territory, where trees varied greatly in height, leaf type, fruit shape, or even canopy arrangement. And in the midst of this environment, there were also important figures, who could be loved, feared, or simply detested.
Wonderland's rule number one: Cats are not welcome, don't offend people by talking about them!
Even if this was not a real law — possibly a mere superstition of disgruntled mice — cats have always been seen as bad luck or as agents of chaos. Certainly, Kitty Cheshire fit that profile well: being blamed for discord was like a compliment to her. Living the present to the fullest, she never wanted to worry about responsibilities. She appeared here and there in the blink of an eye, always with the typical smile on her face.
Thinking about what the future held for her, on the other hand, was intimidating at first, even though the feline had always been proud of being what she was. Not only because of the normal uncertainties, but also because of the high expectations that her mother nurtured. Kitty wasn't — never was — a big fan of all the narrative behind the legacy that the boarding school where she graduated repeated and insisted so much, however, the desire to surpass Cat held her back in this system for a long time.
One day that passed. With each year after graduation, there was less of a sense of the whirlwind of adolescence that catalyzed so much discord, and whether they met expectations or not, everyone found a way forward. From that path, adulthood became very stable, as well as if everything fell into place in the end. Cheshire, however, still managed to get into trouble.
A short walk into one of the dense forests renewed her insistence on what could neither be said nor seen. Perhaps it was only natural that chaos would pursue her, or that she would pursue chaos; the definition of it didn't matter more than the adrenaline rushing through her veins, especially as she made her way towards the Palace of Cards. Always in the evening, at least once a week. Her old disappearing trick was perfect for entering the gardens and meeting Lizzie Hearts, the Queen of Hearts. Through the precisely pruned green walls, an exchange of glances was born, anticipating the softening of the monarch's features in the form of a discreet smile, one of those in which the teeth are not revealed. Kitty did not hesitate to disappear once more to reappear before her, right on the table where the other was having her tea.
“What did I say about sitting at the table?” Hearts asked sternly.
“That I might end up knocking over the dishes and that's going to make a bang?”
“And that would surely make the guards run here.” she added, holding out a cup of warm milk.
The feline enjoyed the stewardship. Just tilting her face briefly, she took the milk and so she agreed to come down without batting an eyelid. Her pupils, dilated by darkness, were attentive to Lizzie, who wore a cape over her structured dress. Her hair was loose, but her clothes, makeup, and jeweled earrings reaffirmed her authority, despite the triviality of the situation. The cup rested in her right hand, while her left hand busied itself with some documents.
“A little excitement wouldn't hurt, Your Majesty.” Cheshire commented, considering the possibility. “You only live once, and we're still young.”
“You know that's not how it works.”
The comment made Hearts put down the papers and then resume her reading after a sip of tea. Its dark tone, which was always from the infusion of the same plant, did not mask the lipstick mark on the porcelain.
“What are you reading that’s so interesting?”
“Reports, death sentences, the usual, you know.”
“I see, you're following the family tradition.” she drank more milk, just remembering the infamous Wonderland trials.
“I accompanied my mother to many executions. Of course, these were exciting occasions.” she explained. “Still, I like to read the sentences. I don't think it's fair to go around approving all the executions just for the fun of it.”
“Do you really have time to read each process of each execution?”
“I try.”
The attention to the teapot allowed her not to have to stare at Kitty as she said it. Coming to power at the age of twenty-four, Hearts ruled Wonderland with an iron fist and quickly became a source of fear not only among her subjects but also among neighboring monarchies. To be painted as a classic tyrant was not pretty, but it boiled down to a mere consequence of her duty. That's how she liked to think. Countless expectations surrounded her figure, who even at a young age, tried to keep them under control.
“Being trapped certain of the fate that awaits you must be scary.” Cheshire thought aloud.
The other laughed. “Does dealing with the consequences of your actions scare you?”
“I'm not doing anything wrong to fear.” she stared, knowing that it was no longer about prisoners. “Is there anything you're not proud of, Elizabeth?”
“No, Katherine.” she hated being called that way, especially by Kitty.
Little did Lizzie imagine the hustle and bustle behind the cat-like eyes she faced. When she finally lost her posture and stepped back, Cheshire tilted her face, getting even closer. Wanting to believe they felt the same, the feline was desperate for a sign. Any sign. The monarch's eyebrows furrowed. Her disoriented gaze, on the other hand, betrayed her, as she sought a little more closeness. Another little more and she knew that if Kitty kissed her, she wouldn't be able to pull away.
A kiss. Fast, with no hands involved. The effect, disproportionate to the simplicity of that gesture, was overwhelming. Hearts sloppily dropped the cup and pulled her close, as if outraged by so little. The second initiative, therefore, came from the queen and resulted in a sequence of kisses that had a rhythm incomparable to her racing heart.
“Nothing at all?” she insisted, attentive to her red lips.
“I missed you, way more than I should.”
The wide smile on Kitty's face, after a relieved sigh, faded quickly as another kiss began. Those words excited her and her hand, once timidly resting on the other's shoulder, went down to her waist, pressing the fabric of the dress with her nails. Lizzie hated to break that contact for a moment to throw her hair back. She observed the calm around, the teapot that had probably already cooled.
“These clothes are suffocating me.” she concluded.
“Shall we go upstairs?”
“Do you want to?”
“Of course I do.” Cheshire confirmed with a cute countenance.
After contemplating the situation one last time, Hearts picked up the porcelain and placed it on the silver platter. In a much more relaxed tone compared to the beginning of the meeting, she made a silent sign with her finger and guided the other through the garden to a secret entrance. The entrance was to a very old stone staircase, which led directly to her room. And while she kept the documents in hand, she assigned the feline to take the dishes. Their low laughter denounced that this was not the first time they had ended up in the royal apartment. Even though the context was different, the playful atmosphere persisted, just like the post-curfew escapades in Ever After.
The interior of the palace rooms was warm, especially due to the predominance of wood on the walls. Lizzie undid the knot that held the long cloak in place and dropped it on the carpet, more focused on taking off the earrings, placed above the paperwork on the bedside table. A corner smile escaped as she felt Kitty's arms wrap around her from behind.
“I missed you too.” she said, resting her chin on the other's shoulder.
“Come on, help me get rid of this.” the monarch indicated to disguise her shyness.
With her arms pulled apart by Hearts, Cheshire complied with the request and began to untie the ribbons on her back. The stiffest layer of the dress was quickly removed so that she could wear only the lightest fabric and her traditional, reddish-colored corset. More comfortable, Lizzie finally allowed herself to sit on the bed, where the feline climbed up to take over the space as if it were her own.
“Meow! I'm always surprised at how soft your bed is.” lying on her side, she drew with her fingers on the blanket to feel the texture. “A nap here would be worth ten.”
“Even so, I wake up sometimes with neck pain.”
“I don't need to be a doctor to assume this is out of pure stress. You need to relax.”
Lizzie shook her head with a silly face, amused by Kitty's pose.
“A good cup of black tea is enough for me.”
“Keep it up and in five years your hair will be grayer than mine. It's going to look a lot more like a Cheshire than a Queen of Hearts.”
In a reference to her family's genetics, she mocked mischievously. There was some dominant gene of grayish tones, as well as another that guaranteed a collection of early white hairs. The dyed lilac of her hair, on the other hand, camouflaged this tendency very well.
“No way!”
"Okay, you know best, Lizzie Cheshire.”
An eye roll announced the triumph of provocation. At least it succeeded in amusing her. That's not exactly what Kitty meant, especially when something else more important crossed her mind. An important thing that she avoided and postponed verbalizing. Hesitation gnawed at her heart, which was temporarily repaired every time a kiss, a caress, a smile, a sincere touch took place. Everything ceased to be important while they were together, and then, when the cat was sent back to the street, the weight of having hesitated returned with all its might.
At that moment, however, this was not a problem. Not if Hearts was telling her so adorably about daily life in the palace and the funny rumors that swirled around the court. Not if, when silence came, the queen kissed her so eagerly, without any guard or curious individual to worry about.
Cheshire's instincts soon got the better of her, but they weren't rebuffed. Together they overflowed that adrenaline, despising their own breath many times. Simple kisses got out of hand, therefore, and for the first time, the monarch ended up underneath her. Lizzie tried to push her, blushing too much when she realized the situation she was in. Eye contact, on the other hand, persisted, so the important thing was released, perhaps in a much more nervous sound than Kitty would have liked:
“Tell me you want this as much as I do, I'm in love with you.”
Still with her cheeks burning, Hearts turned her face and resumed her stern semblant. Cheshire, sure of what that meant, never undid her bright smile so suddenly.
“Heavens, Lizzie...” she looked down. “You don't trust me!”
“Get off me, Kitty.”
She obeyed. “After all this time, you still don't trust me!” and continued, incredulous and hurt.
“It's not like that at all.”
“So, what is it? Can't I like you?”
The monarch rested her hand on her forehead in search of explanations she didn't have, shaking her head briefly to the sides.
“Kitty...”
“Why does it have to be this way? Just because I'm a cat and not the King of Hearts that Wonderland deserves?” her pupils thinned.
“You don't understand.”
“I really don't understand. I've proven hundreds of times that I trust you, I even like to be your pet! But this isn't just about fun and games, do you have any idea what's going on outside the palace? Daring Charming, Briar Beauty, Blondie Lockes, Raven Queen... They're all betting on how long it's going to take for you to go crazy like your mother.” she mentioned each name counting on her fingers. “Here, Alistair already thinks you're bloodthirsty, Bunny agrees and there are those who say worse. It hurts so much! But I must pretend I don't care.”
That was the last card up her sleeve. The repeated failures to elicit a real reaction from Hearts left her tired of arguing, especially when her resistance was an answer in and of itself.
“My sacrifices for the sake of this kingdom are immeasurable!” she regretted getting too mad and retreated. “These are ridiculous fallacies, you shouldn't care.”
“You're right.” the pause was for a sigh. “I shouldn't care, especially if this pain is for someone who doesn't want me.”
“Kitty, you're crossing the line.”
“Am I? Is there really a heart behind all this sovereign posing? Is it possible that Lizzie Hearts, the Queen of Hearts, is in love?”
“Enough, enough! Off with your head!”
“That's what I thought.”
An invisible flame that spread through every corner of that room, the anger did not go away despite the end of the argument. Cheshire disappeared far away for the monarch to burn alone in that disastrous fire, sudden enough to leave her feline heart in ashes. And so, she burned. Hearts threw the cushions on the floor before getting up, and then grabbed a piece of paper from her desk to stain, as she was still aware that she couldn't destroy everything in sight: the sound would wake anyone up.
The paper could not resist the excess ink, nor the force applied to the pen. Her blood, red as one of the inks, rushed chaotically towards her head, where she could feel her forehead ache. The brightness of the lighting was bothering, and the typical coolness of the early morning didn't help at all as it barely seemed to exist. As she brought her hands to her forehead, she got stunned by the contrast in temperature which guaranteed a momentary relief from that torment.
When she woke up, Lizzie couldn't remember exactly how she fell asleep. She was surprised that she had made it.
Over the next few days, flashbacks of the discussion were suspended by attention-demanding tasks. The bad mood continued, easily confused with political stress: bringing order to a place ruled by disorder was an even more complicated task considering the disagreements that were not expressed before her. Members of the Royal Council feared displeasing her by giving bad news and so some problems ended up escalating. Contrary to what was guessed, however, Hearts was fully aware of this.
Her mother, from coronation to resignation, never left beyond the palace gates and developed a limited view of the Wonderland situation. Of course, no one dared to tell her some truths, even though they were necessary. Her father the King of Hearts, on the contrary, was approachable enough to listen to the hidden truths and then try to work things out. Witnessing this dynamic growing up, Lizzie knew she couldn't rule alone, even if she wanted to. Her chosen confidant, however, was not a husband, much less a relative. Fond of rules and named Jack of Hearts by her, Chase Redford was her best friend. He was the one who made himself a listener to those who did not want to address her directly.
The difference between them and the previous government was in their complicity. While the King sorted everything out behind the scenes to let the Queen's madness run wild, Redford used to tell Hearts everything. Absolutely everything.
In addition to being a listener, Chase dedicated himself to various tasks at the Palace of Cards. His military side discussed strategies and new training with the army generals; On his valet side, he made sure that everything was always well cleaned and cared for, also putting himself on standby to rescue Lizzie from small mishaps, which were not frequent but happened. It was on the morning of the other week that he heard her call his name, just as he was waiting for her in the chambers to go downstairs for breakfast. Redford threw the watch into his vest pocket and quickly figured out the reason for the call, a ridiculous emergency.
“It's been a while since you last forgot your towel, Your Majesty.” he said holding out the item, his face turned in the opposite direction.
“I don't work properly in the morning.” she yawned and wrapped herself in the towel.
Holding the pose steady, Chase waited with his back turned and arms crossed until he noticed her move into the bedroom. A childish laugh escaped Hearts that ended up infecting him as well. The consequent exchange of glances was only natural as these were one of the few moments when both were not so serious.
“When was the last time? Three days ago?”
“Very funny of you.” she shook her head. “Now that you've woken me up and rescued me from the first distress of the day, you can go.”
A cocky fix of the ends of his mustache preceded his steps toward the hallway, where he would call the maid who would help Lizzie get dressed. As expected, she came out flawless after twenty minutes counted on the clock. Red, dark brown, and black fabrics made up her look, as did that of the valet, who cordially positioned the chair for the monarch to sit on. Soon he settled down next to her at a neat breakfast table.
The bread gave off a characteristic odor that indicated it had just been taken out of the oven. Scrambled eggs and three flavors of fresh jam surrounded that unrequired but customary luxury of the head cook. Tea was served first, officially starting the meal.
“Would Your Majesty like some milk?” the servant, also young, asked with the porcelain in his hands.
“No milk!” Hearts replied harshly, not noticing. “Take it back to the kitchen, you don’t even need to leave it here.”
A little surprised, he lowered his head and withdrew from the room. The jack's gaze seemed puzzled by the attitude, she decided to ignore it. It had been more than five days since the argument with Kitty. They were supposed to meet the night before but that wasn't the case as she had been really upset. Lizzie didn't see any point in it and the anger still came back every time she thought about it, making any understanding or simple conclusion impossible.
Most of the monarch's motives for such evasion were obvious in her own mind: being in power meant conforming to the rules of the court, understanding that the duty to rule overcomes anything. Her legacy, to top it off, didn't include living a great love story. Cheshire was too much of a free spirit, but she was eternally bound to that palace. To the rules, to the expectations, which also came from people who waited for any slip that would make her fall. There was no room for these slips, or rather, for a scenario of inconsequence. But what was that shame for having almost become that woman's prey?
From that point on, her logic yielded no answers. She brought the cup closer and inhaled some of the hot steam, a distraction from the distraction. It only took a few moments for Chase to catch her attention, starting to talk about the day's appointments again.
The leaves swayed in tune with the gentle wind. Nearby branches were still intertwining themselves to conquer more space, signaling the need to be pruned soon. The nighttime darkness, in turn, was challenged by the radiant stars, normally overshadowed by clouds. Reminiscent of summer, the weather little matched the hot tea of Hearts in the middle of the garden. She insisted on taking it and taking it very slowly. She closed her eyes with each sip. Once, twice. When the cup emptied, she even repeated it. A second chance at her foolish hope that Kitty would return.
Surrendered to the embrace that the landscape greeted, she began to walk. Between the green walls, she passed by the trees planted. As an art gallery, these trees had been handpicked by Lizzie's father, whose boredom in watching his wife play croquet motivated the creation of this more dynamic space with something for him to truly admire. The red rose bushes were her only requirement, and the only thing that went wrong with the project. She was furious, as expected. She blamed her husband, had the servants who tried to circumvent the mistake beheaded. He calmed her down, improvised that he would then plant twice as many red rose bushes so that she would forget about the white ones. And every time her mother played, her father entertained himself by picking a white rose to color.
Hearts as a little girl enjoyed learning how to play croquet, even more so because the King was nearby. He always presented her with the flower he painted, and in the end, she grew enchanted by those roses. The rest didn't seem so important to her. Not even the naturally red ones could match the beauty of the hand-dyed red.
The maintenance of the garden was another one of her responsibilities. This one, however, was never a headache. At a quick glance, Lizzie laughed, imagining that in the future she would find a son of Alistair's fiddling with her rose bushes. She wouldn't be mad at the sloppy painting, but at the insolent intrusion. The truth was that no intruder would be welcome unless it was Cheshire. She could show up as many times as she wanted, preferably soon. The weeks-long delay didn't matter, as long as the fight was forgotten and everything went back to the way it was.
Returning to the room was another needlessly prolonged act. Her discomfort, once read as mere bad mood, began to weigh heavily on her chest. A suffocating, constant, restless melancholy. She wondered if she could endure another day like that. The next morning's breakfast, the audience with members of the court, the lunch, until the end of the afternoon it was well contained, reasonably at least. The routine never stopped.
An emergency meeting of the Council thwarted her plan to sleep early, right after dinner. Through Redford's quickened steps, Hearts was sure that the possibility of postponing it was out of question. A ridiculous thriller swirled around the motive behind that uproar in such a way that, no matter what it was, it couldn’t intimidate her. Chase led the way, the clock once more in his hands counting every second: for him, so short, and for her, so long.
The guard watching the entrance to the room loudly announced the queen's arrival with the valet. Immediately, the ministers present bowed slowly to turn their attention to Lizzie's physiognomy. The looks were restless, one sought in the other without success the courage that the occasion required.
“So?” Hearts asked, the eyebrows raised, judging their shared cowardice.
“Your Majesty,” one of the older men stepped forward. “We have arranged this meeting to secure our position in the face of the House of Spades conspiracy. We know that the duke and his supporters have been arrested and for the sake of the Crown, we ask that they all be executed as soon as possible.”
“Correct me if I'm mistaken, Mr. Redford. As I recall, an investigation is still underway into the supporters. Accusing someone of conspiring against the Crown is a very serious thing.” she clasped her hands.
“That is correct, Your Majesty. It seems too convenient to execute prisoners before everything is cleared up.”
“It doesn't matter, we need to send a message!” another minister declared. “A quick and public execution for those who dare plot against the Queen of Hearts will serve as an example to all!”
“A perfect occasion to demonstrate Your Majesty's power!”
The jack squinted before he spotted Lizzie's reaction. Something told him that she wasn't in the best frame of mind to make that kind of decision.
“Gentlemen, are you really interested in seeing bloodshed, or do you fear the discovery of some involvement in the conspiracy?” Chase, worried about how their pressure would fall on her, thought aloud.
The ministers, for their part, backed down together. They seemed to be afraid and distrustful of themselves, even though they had not actually done anything.
“Executions used to be emergencies in my mother's reign, maybe you've forgotten that they don't anymore. Heads are cut off after a fair trial.” The monarch moved her index finger through the air. “Don't worry, if you were really involved you would have been already arrested. Isn't it, Mr. Redford?”
“Absolutely.” again he agreed. “Your Majesty's power lies in severely punishing those who deserve it, at the right time.”
“At the right time, at the right time.” the first man who spoke repeated. “In any case, we stress that we are very concerned about Your Majesty's well-being. Remember that the decision is in your hands.”
If that phrase was meant to persuade, Hearts paid little attention. She was holding on tight, trying so hard to keep her head on straight, and suddenly her rationality crumbled. Did she have that much decision-making power? And for what? What was its real value? It was then that on impulse she asked for a pen and her signet, signing the Duke of Spades' sentence on the spot. Surrounded by the most exquisite whims, Lizzie carried in her name the eternity in Wonderland's history. An absolute power that had nothing absolute about it.
The members of the Council rejoiced; they wanted one by one to read the document to make sure that such exception happened. Their posture had changed and even though only one of the desired executions would be advanced, they felt great unlike the valet. A whisper prior to the signing was his last attempt to remind her that none of this was necessary. The failure, on the other hand, increased the suspicion that his best friend's mind was too far away. Where, in particular, he didn't dare to think.
Finally free to rest, Hearts took a deep breath as she covered herself with the fuzzy blanket. The texture, in contact with her legs and arms exposed by the burgundy nightgown, has never looked so soft. She pulled more of the fabric to herself, hoping that the physical fatigue would erase and overcome any bad sensation that disturbed her thoughts. She changed positions several times, but none seemed good enough.
The exterior lighting reflected sneakily through the window and for a moment made it possible for her to identify the shape of the furniture taken over by the dark. Lizzie quickly got tired of that hobby, which was over after her eyes ended up on the ceiling. In the emptiness of the dyed plaster, her imagination painted the memories of the encounters with Kitty. Her smile was so shimmering that she swore she could see it even when all the lights went out, just as she swore she could smell her scent impregnated on her pillows. The vision became more and more vibrant with each little detail, accelerating her heartbeat, which soared the instant the figure was complete. The hair about to come loose, the messy lipstick, the retractable nails wandering across her belly. That night, Cheshire was so sure of what she wanted to do, but at the same time so desperate for a little more trust.
Then the wounds exchanged in that fight also came back and the echo of the words dispelled that mirage. The monarch brought her hands to her head, blinking several times to keep her eyes from filling with tears. She got up, still barefoot, groped for the furniture and headed out of the room. She needed air. Her chest, on the other hand, which seemed so heavy, punished her and demanded that she stop restraining herself.
Disoriented through the corridors of the palace, she ended up in the courtroom. Hearts couldn't ignore that magnificent architecture, which only served to underscore the size of her duty. Sacred, present everywhere. Much bigger than herself. With nowhere else to go, and in a sincere confession, she began to weep on her knees before the throne. Lizzie used to do the same in the past when she got upset or injured during children's play. There, so close to her mother's lap, she was comforted by her until she calmed down. And although she knew that the former Queen of Hearts would not agree with the reason of that suffering, her love for a woman, she was devastated that she could no longer find the warmth of that comfort. She was the queen now.
How she wished things were different, and to believe once again that that fight would not be the end. She couldn't stop crying. The scene frightened the guards, who were busy with the typical patrol of the main halls. Unable to discern what was going on, a nervous breakdown or an outburst, one nudged the other, debating whether to do anything. And after finally agreeing, they debated again, this time to define who would be the unfortunate one who would disturb the sleep of the Jack of Hearts.
Two loud knocks on the door caused a considerable noise, the guard hoping that it would be more than enough to awaken Chase, who was luckily a light sleeper. With one end of his mustache crumpled up, he answered in a startle.
“Your Excellency, you must appear in the courtroom immediately.”
“I'll be there once I get dressed.” he pointed that he was going to move away to get his clothes.
“No!” the other guard snapped. “It's because of Your Majesty.”
“She's... inconsolable.”
The clear fear in the officers' eyes penetrated the man with whom they were speaking as well. Redford put a sleep robe over his pajamas and lit his lantern:
“I'll find out what's going on, the room should be excluded from the current round. Have a good night, gentlemen.”
Through a bow, the two made room for the jack to pass. He didn't think about anything other than that he needed to see her. And for a moment, even regretted preserving his silence instead of being honest about his suspicions at the meeting. It wasn't necessarily the first time he'd made that mistake. Lizzie was there, in the dark, with none of that sovereign attitude. The etiquette required of a valet was also undone, just as he crouched down and laid his hand on her shoulder. Chase looked around again, reassuring the guarantee that they were alone.
“Lizzie.” he called. “My dear, why are you crying?”
She turned her face towards him, opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't bring herself to stop. The tears fell effortlessly. The tight hug offered by Redford was short-lived, she was willing to talk and wanted to try to get those furrowed brows off his face.
“Is it because of the duke?”
Trying to breathe with a congested nose, she shook her head quickly in denial.
“My dear, if it is then because of the sentence, we can revoke it—"
“That's not it.”
The light of the lantern reflected in yellow on the face features of her best friend. A brief reflection on whether she should even tell him about the affair led Hearts to stare at him. Like it or not, this was a secret that lasted a long time. Not telling him was worse than a lie as she had broken her biggest promise to Chase and, in a way, betrayed him. There were no secrets between the two, at least, it shouldn't be.
“There's someone.”
“A woman.” he corrected, to her surprise.
“What are you talking about, Chase?” she bluffed.
“There's only one explanation for why the cups in your room come back marked with two different colors of lipstick.”
The cocky laughter returned, this time accompanied by nervous laughter from the monarch, who began to blush.
“I'm more than your valet, I'm also your best friend. I'm not here to judge you.” he covered one of Lizzie's hands with his own, resuming his seriousness. “Tell me the truth, only the truth.”
“It's Kitty.”
“Kitty Cheshire?”
“Yes.” she looked away. “She would come to meet me at night, it wasn't supposed to be a big deal.”
“But it is, isn't it?”
The sigh exposed her resistance to admit it.
“It started to be right at the beginning for me. Kitty doesn't know that, never did.” her eyes watered once more. “I couldn't say. In my position, that could not have happened at all.”
“Did you fight over it?”
“At some point we would fight, I won't say I saw it coming, but deep down I knew. I just didn't imagine that she would be that goddamn angry, that she would torture me so much. There wasn't a day that I stopped thinking about the discussion and each time she didn't appear my heart broke a little more.” she looked upwards, indignant that she was about to cry again. “I lost her, Chase. I really lost her. I thought I could move on, but I can't. I can't take it anymore.”
“Lizzie.”
“My commitment is to the kingdom. I know, I know! Please don't get me wrong.”
“I wasn't going to say that.” he dimmed the light before continuing. “Are you really in love with Kitty?”
“A queen should have no passions.”
“You shouldn't, but you do. That's what makes you a Queen of Hearts, not just any ruler. You always try so hard to put your heart into everything you do, trying to be fair to all your subjects. So now, why can't you be fair to yourself?”
“Fine.” she massaged her temples. “The answer is yes.”
“I suppose you want her back.”
"How?"
Redford did not disguise his unpreparedness in providing alternatives. With his forefinger below his nose and his thumb resting his chin, he spent a long minute thinking, focused on the marble floor.
“Do you think she would be willing to participate in court?”
“Kitty, at court?”
“If she had a title, she could be close to you, living in the palace. And there is only one person who has the power to grant that...”
“Don't tell me you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting.”
“The Count of Clubs is sinking into his own spending; he certainly wouldn't mind making a trade with the queen.” he shrugged.
“The county for the discharge of debts... Chase, that's pure madness.”
“If making a cat a countess is what's going to make you happy, I'll be by your side in this madness."
The shrill sound of the cutlery meeting the plates formed a chaotic melody, just like the woman responsible for it. It was in the backyard of her own home, also a tea shop, that Madeline Hatter set up preparations to receive longtime friends. Kitty was the first to arrive, taking the pet mouse out of her hat by the tail. And as soon as Madeline noticed its absence, she materialized to return it, always in a playful tone.
A characteristic fragrance of baking pies wafted from the kitchen and that alone was enough to make their stomachs growl, even if they didn't intend to eat before the other two guests, Alistair and Bunny, arrived. On a fluffy lawn, the table was surrounded by an unnecessary number of chairs, one different from the other. Colors, sizes, adornments. Hatter got lost in the details and loved to tell the crazy stories behind the furniture she acquired. She talked too much and didn't get tired even if the conversation was repeated. A particular — and peculiar — way of welcoming people.
As a good hostess, she made sure that Cheshire chose a place to sit while maintaining the habit of standing at one end of the table. The arrival of the rabbit and the man completed in a moment the amusing image of that meeting in the middle of the afternoon. The greetings spared great ceremonies, soon turning into anxious conversations, full of nonsense restrained by the adult daily life. Alistair easily let slip the nostalgia for the adventures and the whimsical atmosphere of Wonderland, which he experienced less and less as he had become a teacher in Ever After High.
Since his visits were not very frequent, it was difficult for him to want to talk about anything other than the place he missed: economics, politics, he liked to keep up to date on everything. Kitty, on the contrary, was not interested in debating politics on this occasion, least of all with him. Complaints about the government were not new, no nation can be perfect, but having been so close to Lizzie created a singular block in her consciousness. The words that came out of her mouth always ended up doomed to two interpretations. Whether it was callousness or hypocrisy, she hated to face this dilemma anyway. Given the circumstances, even more so.
Cheshire wanted to be angry with Hearts, to throw in the air all the affection she had once nurtured, to tell the three of them that they were right to say that she was no longer the same. But in practice she couldn't do any of that. A generous slice of pie helped bring her some solace, lessening the hurt for a reason they couldn't deduce. Lizzie was literally the last person she could love, and maybe that's why letting her go seemed too easy. That's what she believed in the heat of the moment, so uncomfortable with herself for having created the expectation that the other wouldn't be a tremendous coward. It didn't take her long to realize, however, that there was nothing easy about it.
The time when things were simpler was over. Maddie was entangled in managing the bakery's orders and Alistair was already with two young children, at an eternal disagreement with Bunny over how they should raise them. Still, they found ways to laugh with the small details and that lightness in their looks and gestures made them very charismatic. Infected by the familiarity of that encounter, Kitty paid little attention to the gradually higher gallop and subsequent movement nearby. She was much more interested in the rabbit's account of her eldest son's first phrases when one of Hatter's cooks appeared next to a soldier, turning the noise of that table into pure silence.
A brief tension grew as the silence continued. The soldier tugged at the tight collar of his white uniform, decorated with the medal of his rank. Seven of Hearts. Oblivious to the fear of the chef who guided him into the backyard, he wiped his forehead with a handkerchief before explaining his presence.
“I'm looking for Miss Katherine Cheshire.”
Searching for a feature that would signal the reason for this, Alistair alternated his gaze between his friend and the officer. His eyebrow arched; he couldn't theorize anything.
“Someone's going to lose their head.” Maddie whispered.
“Do you really need to go? What did you do?” Bunny asked what her partner was thinking.
Kitty, for her part, remained motionless, almost in a cold sweat. Suspicions were inevitable if she didn't run away, but she didn't have time to think:
“I'm here.” she said after reappearing standing in front of him.
“Your presence is urgently required at the Palace of Cards, Miss. Follow me.”
The shock of the three was palpable, yet the temptation to face them before going did not win. Still a little disoriented, her only certainty was that Lizzie was behind the search. The soldier whistled loudly as he waited for a carriage, where Cheshire was politely accommodated as they left the house. Then he mounted his horse and directed the coachman that they should be fast.
Kitty watched the landscape change as she convinced herself that not giving any explanation to her friends was the best thing to do and therefore an impasse to be resolved later. Using a means of transportation instead of her classic trick was a pleasant novelty, especially for the comfort of the seats covered in crimson velvet. She forgot about the time, just wondering how much effort the horses had to do to make the journey. The door of the carriage was opened by the Seven of Hearts, who gave her his hand to get out the moment they reached their destination. Her confusion showed in her feline gaze as she realized that this was the main entrance to the palace and that the Jack of Hearts himself was waiting for her.
“Miss Cheshire.” Chase nodded briefly. “Did you have a good trip?”
“Yes... Mr. Redford?”
“Your Excellency.” he corrected with a smile, low enough so the soldier couldn’t hear.
“Yes, Your Excellency.” she repeated.
The confirmation granted the departure of the employees. The soldier, as expected of a military man, gave a directed salute to the valet before withdrawing. From then on, Chase walked alongside her through the vast corridors and stairwells. Cheshire was intrigued by his appearance, so mature compared to the young knight she had met ten years ago. The rigor in posture remained the same, amplified by the high position in the kingdom. Some nobles even bowed to him as he passed. Redford waited for an opportunity to talk, finally breaking the silence when he didn't see anyone from the court around:
“It's a pleasure to see you again, Kitty.” he dispensed the etiquette. “Look what time has done to us.”
“It seems like only yesterday that I was here with the girls from Ever After on the Queen's birthday.” her tension eased as she noticed the informality. “Did you learn to dance? Don't tell me you didn't have time to get better.”
They both laughed, remembering his disastrous performance in the dance duel against the White Knight.
“I don't think I'm really good at it, but I'm still Lizzie's partner at official events. I assure you that I only step on her foot during training.” he confessed.
Despite the innocent comment, Kitty's smile ceased when she heard her name.
“Why am I here, Chase?”
He sighed, thinking about what words he would match. He was not allowed to tell, nor to indicate that he had heard of the rendezvous in the gardens.
“You'll find out.”
The gaze centered ahead declared the end of that conversation. Cheshire abandoned the idea of asking more when she realized that the walk through the palace was indeed about to end, right in front of the royal office. The ornate doors revealed the presence of the monarch, clearly nervous as she had been waiting for them. Wearing thin high heels, her walk between the desk and the archive stands was imposing, concealing her hesitation to look at her in the eye.
“I'm leaving.” the jack announced, closing the doors quickly.
The environment was totally transformed from the moment they were alone. The air, thicker, stirred Kitty's silent uncertainties, which had remained very well guarded since their last meeting. She was surprised anyway by the other's effort: from the soldier's appearance to the reception, Cheshire had finally ceased to be a secret. The intent behind these actions, however, corresponded to the real unknown.
“It was hard to find you.”
“No one knows where to find a Cheshire unless they want to be found.” she snuck through the space. “This story deserves an ending.”
“An ending? Am I that late?”
The view from the window made ignoring her more convenient. At that altitude, everyone looked like little mice wrapped in their little chores. Saying that she was looking for closure wasn't quite true, even though she was trying to get over it.
“You've been very clear, Lizzie. As long as that crown is on your head, my love doesn't stand a chance.” she lowered her gaze.
“So,” Hearts went to the window as well. “You want to go your own way, pretending that nothing happened.”
“I think so.”
“Like I'm going to let that happen!”
The monarch's eyebrows drew closer, as if disappointed that the other would consider that possibility. Her intonation, on the other hand, did not contain an ounce of resentment or anger. Determined to reveal what she was preparing, she returned to her desk and let out a murmur.
“There are some things about myself that I don't understand, just as there are conventions that I need to follow as queen. But if challenging those conventions is necessary to have you in my life, you can bet I will.” the drawer was opened to retrieve a document, which was held out in Kitty's direction. “Don't leave me.”
The nervousness was obvious as she noticed Cheshire's hesitation to approach.
“Please.” she said softly.
A long glance at that worried face preceded her reading, completely altering her countenance. Her pupils dilated and a smile began to form.
“You'll never need to enter through the back or leave before dawn again. The county castle will be owned by the Cheshire family, a comfortable life for you and your mother. What do you say, Countess—”
Lizzie could barely finish her question. Unable to contain her heart, Kitty pulled her by the arm and kissed her. Again and again. The relief of the correspondence drew a smile on the queen's face, and she couldn't resist giving a dozen kisses on the other's cheeks. Cheshire's hands remained in her arms, and no longer perspired from the confusion of feelings. She held her tightly, as if such opportunity was going to disappear at any moment.
Before dusk, the view of the office lost its sharpness, suggesting that they should get out of there. And in a mixture of excitement and despair, Hearts tried to pull away to retain the fantasy that now took over her thoughts:
“Kitty!” she turned her face to dodge the kiss. “We need to set up the preparations for your official presentation to the court.”
“No way!”
Cheshire shook her head once to complement her answer, knowing so well that she would understand the implications of it. The smile grew, revealing the slightly sharper canines as they set foot in the chambers. They quickly got rid of the structured outfits and Lizzie let her hair out of the pins, getting excited as she was admiring her with that blue and black underwear that didn't match. Her gaze, which she considered discreet, did not go unnoticed by the feline, which then disappeared to take her by surprise. The chill was surgical, as a result of the pressure of her nails on her exposed waist.
As she gave in to Kitty's whirl of emotions, little by little did she lose her strictness, at some point being guided to lie down through another kiss, in this case fiercer. Her cheeks burned, especially from the closeness that forced her to confront that gaze which had a crazy appetite. Exposing the fragile surrender of her sovereign ego, Hearts' embarrassment by her position catalyzed the effect of the other's touch. Vulnerable, almost red as the heart on her face, for the first time she let herself go. She didn't think about anything else.
“Kitty.”
“Hm?”
“I love you, I really do.” she confessed, her hands about to tighten the sheets.
“I'm so glad to know!”