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C ATH WAS STILL STARING after the Jabberwock, the stick clutched in her shaking hands, when a shadow of feathers and bells dropped from the sky. Jest grabbed her shoulders. His gloves carried the memory of soft quills before they were leather once more.

“Are you all right?” he asked, breathless.

“N-no,” she stammered. Her eyes were full of the horizon and the memory of the Lion’s body, all grace and muscle, so quickly taken. So easily defeated.

Hatta was there too, then, in the corner of her vision. “Come,” he ordered, shoving the two of them toward the forest. “Let’s get to safety, in case the beast comes back.”

“The Lion…” Cath’s voice cracked with a sob.

“I know,” said Hatta. “I saw.”

Hatta ushered her past Haigha, whose eyes were glistening with tears.

She heard Raven’s wings beating behind them.

She spotted the Turtle’s shell past the Crossroads door.

Everyone was waiting for them on the other side, clustered together on the black-and-white tiles.

Their frightened eyes began to turn away when they realized that one of their party had been lost.

The Crossroads felt too quiet, too ordinary, too safe after the horrors of the glen .

“He’s gone,” Cath stammered. “He… he saved me.”

“He was a king among beasts,” said Jest. It sounded like a memoriam.

“He was indeed,” said Hatta. “Some might call that a checkmate.”

***

C ATH PUT UP NO ARGUMENT when Jest offered to take her home. Though there was a sense of protection in the Crossroads, with its mismatched doors and access to all corners of the kingdom, as soon as they stepped onto the shores of Squeaky Creek, Cath felt the same terror wash over her.

Hearts was not safe. The Jabberwock was real and it was here and they were not safe.

“My lady,” said Jest, his voice heavy. They had hardly spoken once the other guests had scattered and headed for their own homes. Even Raven had seemed happy to abandon them, flying off into some unknown corner of Hearts. “I am so very, very sorry. I put you in danger. I—”

“You had no control over the Jabberwock.” She stopped and turned to face him. The creek burbled behind her. “Did you?”

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.

“If not for me,” said Jest, “you would have been safe in your bed, and wouldn’t have had to witness something so dreadful.”

She looked down at their fingers. Hers so pale against the black leather of his glove.

“Perhaps tomorrow, when my senses are clear, I will feel that the whole night was a mistake. But I don’t feel that way now.” She took in a long breath and raised her eyes again. “Monsters notwithstanding, I enjoyed my first real tea party. ”

A ghost smile flickered at the corners of his mouth. “And I enjoyed taking you to one. Monsters notwithstanding.”

“Then let us not end our night with talk of dreadful things,” she said, and though there was a sting of guilt at her words—how could she dismiss what had become of the brave and gallant Lion?—it was refreshing to think back on the music and the hats and the tea that had come before.

“As it pleases you, my lady,” said Jest, and he, too, seemed willing to think of more pleasant things. He tugged her up the bank of the creek. “I didn’t have a chance to compliment your performance. The macarons were marvelous, just as you said.”

She pressed her lips against a proud smile and shrugged. “Why, thank you, Sir Joker.”

“Where did you learn to bake?”

She considered the question. Baking had been a part of her life for so long, it was difficult remembering a time when she hadn’t enjoyed digging her fingers into a bowl of cake batter or warm, rising dough.

“Our cook started teaching me when I was a child, but mostly I taught myself, using what recipe books I could find, and experimenting from there. I like the idea of taking ingredients that are unappetizing on their own—chalky flour and oily egg whites and bitter dark chocolate—and making something irresistible with them. This might sound mad, but sometimes it feels as though the ingredients are speaking to me.” She flushed. “Which must be nonsense.”

“I rather enjoy nonsense. What else can you make?”

“Most anything once I’ve seen a recipe for it.

Pies. Tarts. Biscuits. Seed cakes, even—do you think Mr. Raven would care for one of those?

I noticed he didn’t seem tempted by the macarons…

” She hesitated and cast a suspicious look at Jest from the corner of her eye.

“Or, would you like a seed cake? I’m not yet certain whether you’re more man or bird. ”

Jest laughed. “Unfortunately, if Raven were to sample your seed cakes and find that he enjoyed them, it might ruin his impeccable ability to brood.” One of his fingertips traced the back of Cath’s hand. “As for me, I trust I would like most anything you made, if the macarons are any indication.”

She risked a bashful glance at him. Jest returned the look, before continuing, “The King mentioned some tarts you brought to the ball. I didn’t give it much thought at the time—I’d assumed your cook had been the one to make them, but now…

I understand why he’s so drawn to you. You aren’t only talented, but…

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

You know you’re good at it, and that knowledge lights you up. ”

Cath’s defenses shivered and she had to look away, flattered and flustered and…

Newly miserable.

She hadn’t thought of the King all night, what with Jest and the party and… and what had come afterward.

He was no longer simply the King, though. He was her suitor.

Now that the evening was at its end, no longer full of potential and impossibilities, her decisions seemed unbearably foolish. What could she be thinking, sneaking about with the court joker? Her parents would be mortified if they found out. Her reputation would be ruined.

“It’s only a silly hobby,” she muttered as they turned onto the drive of Rock Turtle Cove Manor.

Her heels were loud on the cobblestones, so she tried to stay on her toes.

Jest, on the other hand, walked like falling snowflakes.

“It’s nice to be good at something, though.

It’s not what my parents wanted me to be good at, but it is something.

” She sighed. “Whereas you seem to be good at everything.”

“Not everything,” he said. “Would you believe I’ve never so much as held an eggbeater?”

“Scandalous!”

He grinned at her, and she was surprised at how much she wanted to tell him about the bakery she and Mary Ann were going to open.

The desire to bring him into her fantasy was fast and fervent, maybe even to tell him of how she’d begun to dream of him being a part of it all.

But she and Mary Ann hadn’t told anyone about their plans, other than the Duke, which had been necessary, and to tell Jest felt like it would have been a betrayal of her oldest friendship. That alone held her tongue.

“You don’t have to walk me all the way to the house,” she said, realizing that her feet were dragging more with every step.

“Stuff and nonsense. After the night we’ve had, I couldn’t imagine deserting you before you’ve been seen safely to your door. Or, window.”

Catherine was unwilling to argue. They cut across the grass, damp and soft from dew. Morning dew? The whole night had been whiled away, yet it seemed as if she had just left.

Her gaze traced the boughs of the lemon tree to her bedroom window. The glass was black as pitch. The hearth fire had burned down hours ago.

“I suppose now you’re going to grow wings and fly us up there?”

“Unfortunately my wings come only in one size, and they wouldn’t be helpful in this circumstance.

” His jaw clenched, his yellow eyes raw with uncertainty.

“You asked if I was man or bird, Lady Pinkerton, but I’m neither.

” He drew in a long breath and turned to face her fully. “I’m a Rook, as is Raven.”

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 held his gaze, trying to puzzle through his words, unsure if this was another riddle. “Chess?”

His head shifted in what could have been a nod. “That’s where Raven and I come from.”

“ Chess. ” The word was little more than a breath now, spoken with awe. Chess. The Land of the Red and White Queendoms .

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.

But such rumors could all be fairy tales as far as she knew.

“If you’re a protector of the White Queen,” she said, “whatever are you doing here?”

“It’s… complicated.” He seemed to be fighting with an explanation. “The Queen sent us here on a mission of sorts. One that could determine the fate of Chess. One that could end the war between her and the Red Queen, a war that is as old as Time himself.”

Cath gaped at him, wondering how there ever could have been a time when she had looked at this man and seen only a joker—all pranks and magic.

He was from Chess.

He was on a mission that could end a war.

He was the protector of a queen.

Her heart suddenly twisted, and she was surprised at how much it hurt. “Then how long will you be in Hearts?” she asked, not caring how the unexpected sorrow showed in her question.

Jest’s eyes widened with surprise, then softened. He settled his free hand onto their entwined fingers, encasing hers completely. “I don’t know. Once our mission is complete… perhaps I’ll have a reason to come back, and to stay.”