White Roses a.b

chapter 35

Ashley dropped the sword with an echoing clang.

Pain rushed through her all at once, a burning iron in her ankle, fire shooting through her bones. She wilted down into her dress. Her pulse was a hammer, her fingers hot with rushing blood.

Another gasp from the crowd. A frightened hesitation. No one knew what to do. It was clear they were all waiting for someone else to make a decision. To be the first to move.

A ruler, a leader, a king.

But the King of Hearts stood in their midst, as pale and whimpering as any of his subjects.

Ash realized she was crying. She could feel her nose dripping, but she didn’t swipe at it. Let them see her blotchy skin and torn dress and the mucus that was to be expected after witnessing such a horror. Let them see.

Andy stumbled towards her, ignoring their audience. He had a limp, which was even more peculiar than the smeared mask of kohl.

‘Ashley. Ashley.’ He hovered over her, eyes bloodshot. ‘Where does it hurt? Is it your leg?’

She locked her jaw and nodded – though that slight movement sent her reeling with nausea. She collapsed on to her back and Andy disappeared from view, but she could feel him pushing up the hem of her dress – just a little. Just enough to see.

Ash started to laugh, shrill and hysterical. ‘Well now – that’s hardly – proper,’ she stammered, choking, tears rolling into her tangled hair. ‘Oh, stuff and nonsense, it hurts.’

Andy touched her ankle and she screamed. The world turned swarmy and full of flashing light. The touch left her.

‘L-L-Lady Costello?’

She groaned. Her head fell to the side and she saw the King and the White Rabbit and Mary Ann stumbling down the stairs. Mary Ann was pale with fear, her apron balled up in both fists, her pretty new bonnet crooked on her head.

‘Y-Your Majesty,’ she said. She wished they would all go away, leave her alone. She wished for unconsciousness. ‘The Jabberwock—’

That was as far as she got before another shot of pain had her reeling.

The King hurried down the rest of the stairs and knelt at her side, taking her hand into his. ‘You were stunning.’ He pulled a handkerchief from some fold of his garb, but rather than offer it to Ashley, he dabbed at his own glistening brow. Lifting his head, he peered around at the speechless, still-frozen crowd. ‘Behold! The treasure of my heart! The keeper of the Vorpal Sword! The most brave and b-b-brilliant Lady Ashley Costello. Behold our future queen!’

‘No,’ she murmured, but no one heard her over the applause. Her head lolled and she felt a tender hand supporting it. The soft pad of a thumb stroking the arch of her ear. ‘I’m not – the sword. It isn’t . . .’

‘Your Majesty,’ said Andy, his voice cutting through the cheers. ‘She’s hurt. She needs help.’

The King spun back. Panicked. ‘Oh. Er. Y-yes. Of course.’

He looked at her ankle and greened.

Ash clenched her teeth, trying to sharpen her focus as her skull pounded. ‘If I am stunning – and brilliant – and brave’ – she swallowed a scream – ‘then you are useless!’

Andy froze. The King shrank back.

‘The Jabberwock has been terrorizing us for weeks! And what have you done? What are you doing to stop it?’

Squeaking, the King ducked his head between the velvet folds of his cloak.

‘You are the King! You have to do something!’