‘I’m not in the mood. Go away.’

‘All due respect, Your Soon-to-Be-Majesticness, you do not seem much in the mood for anything. I have never seen such an empty expression.’ His face vanished, leaving the outline of fur and whiskers topped with pointed ears.

Catherine pushed away from the vanity.

Cheshire’s face reappeared. ‘You needn’t be so cold to Mary Ann. She’s worried about you. We all are.’

‘What is there to worry about? I am going to be a queen. I’m the luckiest girl in Hearts.’

His whiskers twitched. ‘And won’t we be lucky to have you, miserable wretch you’ve become.’

‘Mind my words, Cheshire, I will have you banished from this kingdom if you tempt me.’

‘An empty threat from an empty girl.’

She rounded on him, teeth flashing. ‘I am not empty. I am full to the brim with murder and revenge. I am overflowing and I do not think you wish for me to overflow on to you.’

‘There was a time’ – Cheshire yawned – ‘when you overflowed with whimsy and icing sugar. I liked that Catherine better.’

‘That Catherine was a fool.’ She whipped her hand towards the cat. He vanished before she could strike him. ‘You knew the bakery would never happen. You’ve known that I would end up either destitute or married to the stupid King, and any other hopes were meaningless.’

‘Yes. That’s true.’

She spun to see Cheshire floating in front of the door.

‘But hoping,’ he said, ‘is how the impossible can be possible after all.’

With a scream, Cath grabbed a vase of white roses and launched them at Cheshire’s head.

The door opened. The cat vanished. The vase flew right between the White Rabbit’s ears and shattered in the corridor.

The Rabbit froze, his pink eyes wide as saucers. ‘L-Lady Pinkerton? Is everything quite all right?’

Cath straightened her spine. ‘I despise white roses!’

The Rabbit shrank back. ‘I . . . I do apologize. I’ll – er – have something else sent for, if you prefer—’

‘Don’t bother,’ she snapped, marching towards the window and thrusting her finger against a leaded pane. ‘And I want the gardeners to take down that tree.’

The White Rabbit approached hesitantly. ‘Tree?’

‘The white rose tree by the arches. I want it removed immediately.’

The Rabbit’s nose twitched. ‘But, my lady, that tree was planted by the King’s great-great-great-grandfather. It is an extremely rare varietal. No, I think we had better leave it as it is.’ He cleared his throat and pulled a watch from his pocket. The watch Jest had given him during the black-and-white ball. Seeing it brought blood rushing into Cath’s face. ‘Now then, your parents will be here soon to escort you to the ceremony, but I wanted to be sure you had everything you needed before—’

‘Mr Rabbit.’

He looked up and ducked at her glare.

‘That tree is to be gone by nightfall. If it is not, then I will find an axe and cut it down myself, and your head will be soon to follow. Do you understand?’

His gloved hands began to shake around the watch. ‘Er – y-yes. Certainly. The tree. Quite an eyesore, I’ve oft said so myself . . .’

‘In fact,’ she continued, scanning the gardens below, ‘I want all white roses to be removed before springtime. From now on, the gardeners are to plant only red roses, if they must grow roses at all.’

‘Of course, my quee—my lady. Red roses. Excellent choice. Your taste is immaculate, I daresay.’

‘Exuberantly glad you agree,’ she deadpanned, brushing past him. She paused at the vanity, and Raven hopped off the mirror and came to settle again on her shoulder before she swept into the corridor.

She paused.

Her parents were there, standing over the shattered glass vase and drooping roses, waiting to escort their daughter to her wedding ceremony. Their faces held on to wobbly smiles.

‘Oh, my sweet girl,’ said the Marchioness, taking a step forward. Hesitating. Glancing at Raven. Then she closed the distance between them and took Catherine into her arms. ‘You are a beautiful bride.’

‘Are you sure?’ said Cath, still livid over the roses and the pocket watch and Cheshire’s insolence. ‘Look again. You might find that I actually resemble a walrus.’

Her mother pulled away, shocked. ‘What do you mean?’

She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from rolling her eyes. ‘Nothing at all.’

‘Catherine,’ said the Marquess, placing one hand on Cath’s shoulder and one on his wife’s. ‘We know you’ve been through some . . . difficult things recently.’

Anger, hot and throbbing, blurred in her vision.

‘But we want you to be sure . . . absolutely sure this is what you want.’ His eyes turned wary beneath his bushy eyebrows. ‘We want you to be happy. That’s all we’ve ever wanted. Is this what’s going to make you happy?’

Cath held his gaze, feeling the puncture of Raven’s talons on her shoulder, the weight of the rubies around her throat, the itch of her petticoat on her thighs.

‘How different everything could have been,’ she said, ‘if you had thought to ask me that before.’

She shrugged his arm away and pushed between them. She didn’t look back.

CHAPTER 52