Page 116 of Heartless

‘You have my heart, Jest. I don’t know if you deserve it or not. I can’t tell if you’re a hero or a villain, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Either way, my heart is yours.’

He stared at her, his eyes wide, burning, stunned. Her heart continued to pound. Her words hung in the space between them.

Finally, Jest whispered, ‘Now that you’ve said that, you must promise me you will reject the King.’

‘I promise,’ she said, without hesitation.

Relief washed over him, then he was on his knees, reaching for her hands. She gave them willingly, and his lips were on her fingertips, brushing over each one. ‘Catherine,’ he said, breathing her name into her palms. ‘Dear Catherine. I have wanted to kiss you from the moment you awoke in that rose garden.’

She licked her lips, a reflex, the result of a hundred daydreams. A hundred daydreams about him.

The glen was quiet but for the drum of her heart. Cath could imagine it. Everything about it. His lips, his arms. His body pressing her back on to the soft grass, the golden light of a timeless day cascading over them.

She curled her fingers over his. ‘Kiss me, then.’

She offered no resistance when he pulled her to her knees, trapping their interlaced fingers between their bodies. His nose brushed against hers.

‘My heart is yours,’ he whispered, sending a chill down her spine.

The corners of her lips lifted, in anticipation, in joy. ‘Do be careful, Sir Joker,’ she said, remembering Hatta’s riddle. ‘A heart, once stolen, can never be taken back.’

‘I know,’ he said, and kissed her – soft, at first. ‘But I’m giving it to you willingly.’ Another kiss, hesitant, growing bolder. ‘Catherine,’ he murmured against her, ‘you taste like treacle.’

Catherine grinned, delirious once more, and pulled him down on to the grass.

CHAPTER 37

CATHERINE WAS GIDDYwhen Jest’s mysterious tower of stone deposited them into the Crossroads – arms linked, faces flushed, and lungs full of laughter. Her hair was a tangled mess, her toes were uncomfortably cold on her one bare foot, and Cath had not known before what happiness was. Her whole body was smiling. She felt that she could step off the chequered-tile floor and fly up, up, up if she wasn’t careful.

They found the door to Rock Turtle Cove, and Jest opened it for her with an elaborate bow. ‘After you, my lady.’

She curtsied. ‘Why thank you, good sir,’ she said, dancing through the door and out on to the riverbank. The bridge above them was sullen and quiet, the air still but for the chirping of crickets and the crackle of lightning bugs.

Jest shut the door beneath the bridge and followed her up to the path. She felt the tender brush of his fingertips against her lower back and the caress warmed her to her bones.

She smiled back at him and saw her contentment reflected in his face. It only took the gentlest of tugs before she was in his arms again.

No sooner had their lips touched than a warning caw darted down Catherine’s spine. She gasped and swivelled her head, spotting Raven in the trees.

Jest grabbed her elbow. ‘Cath—’

The night’s tranquillity erupted with the sound of clanging armour and shouted commands.

Catherine cried out as Jest’s hand was ripped away from her, leaving her skin burning. She turned in time to see the Two and Seven of Clubs forcing Jest on to his knees. A suit of palace guards spread out behind them, their clubs and javelins raised.

‘What are you doing?’ she screamed, wrapping her hands around Jest’s upper arm. The guards held firm. ‘Let him go!’

‘Catherine! Oh, thanks to goodness!’

She spun around. Her mother and father barrelled out from behind a border of shrubs. The King, too, was there, and the sight of him made Cath’s veins run cold moments before her mother wrapped her in a suffocating embrace. ‘Oh, my sweet girl! My darling child! You’re home! You’re safe!’

‘Of course I’m safe. What is the meaning of this?’

‘You needn’t be frightened any more.’ The Marchioness stroked her hair. ‘We heard all about the Jabberwock attack – much as I adore His Majesty I may never forgive his putting you in harm’s way like that!’ She said this with an element of cheekiness, knowing His Majesty was standing not far away and, of course, he was already forgiven. ‘They said you were injured and . . . and this wicked joker had taken you to the Sturgeons! We went there, your father and Mary Ann and I, but you were nowhere to be seen and no one had heard from you and the Sturgeons said you hadn’t been to see them and all I could think was that you were helpless and afraid and hurt and this awful man had secreted you away and was doing something vile and awful and—’

She was sobbing, great big blubbering sobs that turned Cath’s stomach with guilt.

A loud honk drew her attention over her mother’s shoulder. Her father was blowing his nose into a handkerchief, his eyes red and sleepless.

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