Four leaves stood at attention on the stage. Three knights dragged a young girl roughly up the steps to the stage. Her hair was brown and stringy, clinging to her face in wisps. The crowd quieted, save for a few murmurs.
A bubbling giggle caught Mal's attention and she glanced in mild annoyance at Maverick. He was watching the proceedings with the glint of carelessly bricked madness in his eyes. He raised a purple glove to his mouth to stifle the cackle burbling up over his lips. His gloves fluttered as if there were silver filaments woven into them, and Tourmaline suspected that there probably were.
She nudged Maverick's ribs and the sbickers ceased.
Trumpets blew simultaneously and the entire crowd leapt to attention, fingers brushing foreheads. The Awsmian anthem chirped from stage speakers the cut off, just as somebody behind Tourmaline snapped their gum.
Tourmaline turned to see a perky girl with a black halo of ringers. The girl waved at her, snapping her gum again. Another girl stood beside her in a state of forced relaxation. She wore light charcoal skinny jeans and a pitch black leather jacket with a black tank top underneath. She analysed Tourmaline with eyes that were soft in a dangerous way, like quicksand. She raised a gloved hand and shot Tourmaline a finger-gun. Her dark eyes were outlined in long, striking lashes and almost violently accented by her brown skin and shaven head.
The younger girl beside her resembled a unicorn. She wore bright pastel tutu, pink fishnet gloves, and a blue and pink striped shirt. A vibrant blue stripe shot through her hair. Yet the cheery colors seemed almost sinister.
The little one popped her gum. "I'm Cassiopeia. That's Orion." She pointed at the tall, curvy one. Orion looked at Tourmaline with an uncanny, almost clinical prescision and puahed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.
"A pleasure," Orion said dryly, eyebrows raised.
"Who're you?" Chess inquired, giving the odd pair a once-over, his voice holding an uncertainty Tourmaline had never heard before.
"We're sisters, dear Chess," Orion said and listed her head. "Now, I believe the real question is..."
"Who are you?" Cassiopeia finished.
Maverick looked by this, Blanco looked indifferent and the girls looked amused.
"So whatta we got here?" Maverick drawled slowly.
"A drunk hatter," Orion repkied with faux innocence. "Mr. Maverick."
Maverick chuckled. "I like her," he said to Chess.
Starr winked at Maverick, a mild smile on her face.
"We're the Jesters," Cassiopeia informed them, pride in her voice.
"The...Jesters?" Tourmaline repeated inquisitively.
"You know," Cassiopeia said and twisted a curl around her finger. "Like pointy hats and card tricks. Etcetera."
"Card tricks?" Chess asked, back to his normal composure, a mix of skeptical and sarcastic.
Starr held her fingers to her lips then acted like she was blowing A kiss to Chess. Playing cards fluttered off her hand out of thin air.
Maverick snatched the three of clubs out of the air with a whistle of appreciation.
"Like so," Orion said, an underlying steel to her voice that Tourmaline couldn't quite decipher, except the fact that it was directed toward Chess.
Maverick stood peering at Orion, whose gaze was trained on the stage.
"You'd best pay attention, Mavs," Orion said, nodding vaguely at the hatter.
The girl to be executed twisted and squirmed but didn't scream. Refused to scream. Her head was forced into the guillotine, her hands bound behind her back. Each of the citizens began chanting their suit. Chess and Maverick, diamonds. Blanc, spades. Tourmaline, clubs. The Jesters didn't say anything, which was peculiar.
The blade of the murder instrument fluttered with inhuman malice. It came down with astounding speed and sliced clean through...
