Page 138 of Heartless

Cath was still mulling over the lemon seed and the dream, wondering whether it could be a coincidence, when she felt the heavy wool being draped over her shoulders. She looked down, her free hand grabbing the lapel. The coat was impeccable, not a speck of lint on it.

She turned to face Hatta. ‘What is this for?’

‘It is a long, damp walk, Lady Pinkerton. I do not wish for you to catch a cold.’ Hatta turned away and started walking down the maze’s first wildflower-dotted path.

‘Thank you,’ Cath said, somewhat uncertainly, as she and Jest hurried after him. She slipped her arms into the sleeves. The lining was silken and warm and smelt of herbal tea.

‘Yes, that’s kind of you, Hatta,’ added Jest, who had no coat to offer her himself.

Hatta waved a hand at them without looking back. ‘I wish she’d taken a hat before we left the shop. How I find myself in the company of such an unadorned cranium, gallivanting about mazes and wells, is ever the mystery.’

The corners of her lips twitched.

Jest offered his elbow and she took it gladly, the warmth of Hatta’s coat and Jest’s company driving back the chill the Sisters had given her.

They had not gone far when shadows began to close in around them, reminding her that it was still night-time, despite the golden light of the meadow. Jest removed his hat – its new silence disconcerting – and found an oil lantern inside, already lit. It shed a welcome circle of light on to the maze walls and flickered in Raven’s black eyes.

‘Did they draw such horrible pictures when you came across the first time?’ Cath asked as they traipsed after Hatta.

‘They drew, yes, but I didn’t think much of the drawings at the time.’ Jest pondered for a moment, one finger trailing over Cath’s knuckles. ‘Do you remember what they were, Raven?’

Perched on his far shoulder, Raven ducked his head to peer at Catherine around Jest’s profile. ‘A merry-go-round was cast in ink, a monster sketched on stone, and a messenger who would go mad for mistakes he must atone.’

‘That’s right,’ Jest mused, his voice turning low. He was no longer smiling as he stared ahead, watching Hatta pull further away from them. ‘Hatta was the messenger. I remember that now.’

Cath’s feet stalled beneath her. ‘And they drew a monster, like the Jabberwock? And a merry-go-round? Like the hat the Lion was wearing when . . .’

Jest fixed his gaze on her, filling with the same thoughts, the same horrors.

If they were prophecies, those two at least had come true.

The Sisters’ words spun through her head.Murderer, martyr, monarch, mad . . .

‘Do not go through a door!’ Hatta yelled back at them. He hadn’t slowed his pace and was fast disappearing into the maze’s shadows. ‘They gave us their warning, now we have only to heed it.’

Cath shuddered and traded a concerned look with Jest, but it was too late to turn back now, and nothing had changed, besides. They were still going to Chess, and every step brought them closer to it.

They hurried after Hatta before he could desert them, the lantern’s light skipping and swaying over the walls. Though there was nothing joyful about the maze, Hatta began to whistle, twirling his cane as if he were leading a marching band. The first turn was easy enough to find. A break in the hedges on their left. Hatta skipped and clicked his heels together as he turned beneath it.

Catherine, feeling no such glee, approached with more wariness. The hedges had grown together overhead, creating an arched doorway that looked as though it had been there for a thousand years.

‘How long will it take to pass through the maze?’ she asked.

‘Why?’ asked Hatta. ‘Are you late for an appointment?’

Jest frowned apologetically. ‘He’s insufferable when he gets like this, but never mind him. When we came through before, the walk lasted most of the night.’ He glanced down. ‘If your shoes begin to hurt, I can carry you.’

She shook her head, not wanting to be a burden on this journey. ‘I’ll be fine. I only want to get through as quickly as possible.’

Jest laced their fingers together and brought her hand to his mouth. The kiss was wistful, the touch a comfort – but his eyes were still shadowed when he looked up again, and she knew he was thinking of the drawings. His own headless apparition. The hooded figure standing over him, axe in hand. And her, the Queen of Hearts he’d once been sent to find.

She couldn’t shake the memory, no matter how she wanted to. She would be grateful when this journey was over.

‘Do tell me if you change your mind,’ he said. ‘After that spectacle at the well, I’m in the mood to be chivalrous.’

‘Are you?’ she said, forcing her tone to be light. ‘Perhaps we’ll have to find you a suit of armour.’ She reached up with her free hand and tugged on one of the points of Jest’s hat. The lack of a jingling bell caught her off guard. ‘Do you think there might be one in here?’

Jest laughed. ‘We’ll have to ask Hatta. He made it.’

---