Two days had passed, and Naqam had had more than enough time to consider what had happened on the training grounds. To wonder over why he hadn't taken the chance presented and killed the Spade King along with one of his most trusted advisers. 

The answer was simple and, to him, horrible.

He simply had not wanted to kill them in that moment. Years and years of training and hatred had failed him.

Now he did not know what to do. He didn't know what it meant.

He sat on one of the more secluded balconies looking out over the sea, feet propped up on a table, The Raven and the Writing Desk resting face down on his lap. The sun was warm, warding off the chill of the sea breeze that ruffled his hair, tossing red strands into his face.

What he really couldn't fathom was that, when he thought about the King or about Alice, hatred and disdain still welled up in him, flooding through his veins. He still wanted to dethrone them, still had an aching need to prove to Naktis that he was every bit as good as any Heart Ace of old.

But, when it had really mattered, he'd lost his nerve.

His hand clenched into a fist on the back of the book, the leather cover smooth against his skin.

"Have you finished it yet?"

The soft question sent him flying out of his seat, the book thudding to the stone beneath him as he whirled around, hands going immediately to the blades tucked into his belt. The princess raised an eyebrow at him but continued to move forward, even though everything inside of her should have been screaming a warning.

There was no fear in those blue eyes.

And he was glad for it though he couldn't have said why.

His hands dropped away from the weapons and he bent to pick up the book. "Nearly," he finally answered. "It's not like I have anything else to do."

Tarian smiled at his petulant tone, taking the book from him and flipping it open seemingly by magic to the very page he had stopped on. Her eyes scanned over the words and she read, "She lifted the knife, pressing it up against his throat. His onxy eyes were soft, like he understood why she had to do this. Tears welled in her throat and her hand trembled."

A not-unpleasant shiver slipped down his spine as she gave voice to the words he'd read minutes ago. Her mouth twisted and he raised an eyebrow.

"This was always my least favorite part," she explained when she realized he had noticed. "Wondering if she would do it or not. Sacrifice the man she loved because the world told her that she had to."

"Does she?" he asked.

Now she smiled, shaking her head and making her braid swing behind her. "I can't tell you! That would ruin the ending."

Tarian sat in the chair next to his, gesturing for him to do the same. "What do you think she should do?" she asked once he had joined her, sitting nervously on the edge of the chair.

He placed the book on the table, staring at the red cover. "She should kill him."

The princess furrowed her eyebrows, sitting back in the seat. She didn't seem disappointed or upset by his answer, merely curious. Like she expected him to defend his position.

He sat back in his own chair, knives chinking gently against the metal of the chair. He had yet to ask the King or perhaps Hatter for a way to make them proper sheaths. Taking a minute to think, he glanced out over the sea, trying to get his thoughts in order.

"She..." he started slowly, "has to kill him, because that is what is required of her. To retain her honor, her family, her position in court. All those things depend on her ability to cut his throat."

"But she loves him," Tarian said. "And he loves her. He means more to her than her hateful family or her stuffy court position. She's already said she would give those up for him. So why is she standing there with a knife to his throat?"

"Honor," Naqam answered softly. "Because... if she doesn't, she will have lost every scrap of honor she's managed to retain during the whole affair."

"Hm," Tarian hummed with interest. "Is honor more important than love?"

Naqam's eyebrows drew together as he turned his gaze from the seabirds playing over the waves to the princess. She sat with her legs drawn up to her chest, chin resting on her knees. He continued to think over his answer. It was something important to him. Something more real than a discussion concerning words on a page.

"Honor is all we will have at the end of things," he said, voice heavy. "Love can fade or die. It can be taken, stolen. But if you have honor... that's something that can't be taken. It can only be lost by your own hand."

Now Tarian looked out over the ocean. He watched the breeze play with the dark strands of hair that had escaped her braid. The edge of her tunic fluttered, the black material shiny in the sun. The breeze changed direction, and he caught a whiff of something floral. Jasmine, maybe. Or lilacs.

He couldn't tell, but he wanted to know.

"But what will truly bring her honor?" she finally asked, catching him by surprise. "False loyalty to a cause she doesn't believe in, or would there be more honor in having loyalty to nothing but the truth, regardless of how that shakes her beliefs?"

Naqam couldn't find an answer for her. Her words had hit him personally.

"I... suppose that depends on what the truth really is," he said hesitantly. "It's harder to find than it should be."

She tilted her head, mouth quirking to the side. "People hide the truth. It doesn't hide itself."

Then why am I unable to find it, he wanted to say, but never got the chance to.

"There you are," Hatter said, sounding displeased. "Tarian, what are you doing here?"

Naqam and Tarian both stood, Naqam watching warily as Hatter stalked forward, coat whipped around his lean figure by the wind.

"Talking," she said defiantly. "I didn't realize he was here, but I hardly think it hurts anything to talk about a book."

She held up the red book like some kind of damning evidence.

"Well why don't you try telling that to your hard-headed father?" Hatter returned, then shook his head. "I'm sorry, Tari. I shouldn't say things like that to you."

"Well you're not wrong," she said hotly. "Why must he be so stubborn, Uncle Mad? What right does he have to hate Naqam?"

"More than most," Hatter snapped. "If you understand nothing about your father, Tarian, understand that all he has ever wanted in his life is the best for his people and his family. For you and for your mother."

The princess seemed to wilt somewhat under Hatter's harsh words, and Naqam watched his expression soften. He held his arms out to the girl, who immediately embraced him. Naqam had the urge to look away and turned back to the sea, pacing a slow line to the balustrade.

He braced his hands against the warm stone, staring down into the waves crashing against the black cliff the castle perched on like some hulking bird of prey. He focused on the sound of the water, not wanting to intrude.

"You're not leaving!" Tarian cried suddenly, making him flinch and turn back around.

"Actually," Hatter looked up and met Naqam's eyes, "we're leaving."

Naqam blinked slowly, then walked back over to the Real Worlder. Tarian caught his gaze, but he looked down before she could ensnare him. Hatter looked between the two, frowning, then turned to the Ace.

"There's something I think you need to see up north. Do you have any warm clothes?"

"Just the cloak I came with, and I haven't seen that since the day I arrived," he answered, wondering what had sparked this. Then he wondered what Hatter could possibly show him he hadn't already seen when he had visited the Diamond lands as a child.

"Does Father know you're going?" Tarian asked, voicing Naqam's own thoughts. 

"Yes," Hatter said, sounding irritated, but not at the princess. He turned to Naqam then. "We'll pick you something up on our way there. We leave in an hour. Meet me at the front gate."

With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared back into the castle, leaving him alone with Tarian once more. As soon as the door closed behind him, she turned to Naqam looking upset. He stared back at her blankly.

"I should—"

"You don't think he's sending you away, do you?" she asked. "To the Diamonds?"

The thought hadn't crossed his mind until she'd said something, but as soon as she did, his stomach dropped at the idea. "I hope not," he said softly.

"Not that you have any say." Her words were a little bitter, but her expression had smoothed itself into indifference. Then she let out a sigh. "Come. I'll help you get your things together."

"No!" he nearly yelped, making her give him a wounded, surprised look. He shook his head, lowering his tone. "I just mean... your father would be displeased if he knew you were spending any time with me. I'm sure Hatter has his own reasons for this, but the fact remains I'm nothing more than the Heart's Ace, and as such, will only obey their orders."

The words slid poisonously over his tongue, his heart disliking the very idea of obedience. It always had, and he knew, deep down, that was his true failing as an Ace. Even following Naktis' orders was proving to be a challenge to him.

She opened her mouth to argue, but he just shook his head, and she bit her lip, stifling her words. Before he left, he held his hand out and, in an effort to sooth her worry, asked, "Might I take that with me? I would very much like to finish it. I will return it when we get back."

Briefly, he wondered why he was even bothering. It was just a stupid book, and she was inconsequential to his plans.

Tarian smiled, the expression hollow, and handed him the book. He took it, starting slightly when her fingers brushed his. She was very warm, his skin frigid in comparison. Shaking his head, he bid her goodbye and ran quickly into the palace, making his way to his room as fast as he could.

He ran up the stairs, throwing the door open, just to skid to a halt when he find no one less than the King of Spades standing near his window, looking out to the sea. His fingers tightened around the book when Killian turned.

They stood staring at one another until, finally, Naqam remembered to bow. He did so, even as bile rose in his throat.

"Stand up straight," Killian ordered, and Naqam obeyed with relief, then frowned at himself.

The King paced toward him, making Naqam stiffen, but he didn't come any closer than an arm's length away. His gaze flicked down to the book. "Tarian's favorite," he said after a long moment of silence.

Stunned, Naqam merely nodded.

"Might I see it?" Killian asked, holding a hand out. The gryphon ring on his index finger winked in the light.

Reluctantly, Naqam handed the book over. Killian flipped through the pages, moving back toward the window.

Naqam was suddenly very aware that they were the only two people in this room, far from the rest of the castle. And Killian was distracted, tracing a finger over an illustration of the book's two characters locked in a passionate embrace.

His fingers twitched, hand moving slowly to the knife at his right hip. Gaze locked on the King, he shifted his weight slightly, putting his feet in a better position. The hilt of the blade was in his palm. His breath was steady.

"Naqam, wait!"

He startled badly, whipping around to the door, hand flying off his knife as Tarian's voice called his name. The King looked up from the book as she came into the room, more strands of hair escaping her braid and panting slightly from the stairs.

Her eyes widened upon seeing her father, but all she said was, "I just remembered. There's a cloak in your wardrobe, along with some winter clothes. I told a servant to put them in there. The weather will be turning cold here soon as well, so you and Uncle Mad won't have to stop and purchase anything."

There was a moment of extremely uncomfortable silence. Then, Naqam shook his head. "Thank you, your highness. That's very kind of you," he murmured, bowing once again.

"Of course, Ace," she said, voice painfully proper. "We look after those who serve us."

He could practically feel her cutting a sharp gaze at her father, but he didn't dare look at her. He stood up straight, eyes trained on the floor, hands behind his back, shoulders square.

"Well," Killian finally said, "if you would give me a minute with him?"

"Of course, Father," she said stiffly.

Naqam heard as she turned and left, feet soft on the stairs.

"That girl will be the death of me," he muttered under his breath. "Look at me, Ace."

With gritted teeth, he forced himself to meet the King's gaze, finding his own miniature reflection in the dark irises. "Your highness?"

Killian flinched a little at the honorific. Almost as if he didn't like the way it sounded, or perhaps disliked the way it sat upon his shoulders. Then he shook his dark head, black strands once more free of the restricting crown he hardly seemed to wear.

In fact, the only reminder of his heritage he wore proudly seemed to be the gryphon ring. Naqam wondered what was so important about that particular trinket. 

"This little... adventure is Mad's idea. I dislike it."

Naqam nodded slowly, unsure of what the proper response should be. And he couldn't deny that leaving this castle and Killian's oppressive aura would be a welcome relief. Even if that meant consigning himself to another long trip of harsh silence with the Real Worlder.

"I trust Mad can handle himself. He was the one who killed Tamsus, after all. A feat I would have called impossible had I not witnessed it with my own eyes." Killian set the book down on the table next to the bed. "And yet... I have my misgivings."

"About me," Naqam said.

Killian didn't answer for a long time. Naqam didn't lower his gaze, even when he knew he should. Uncomfortably, he found his daughter among the King's features. She was there in the proud set of his mouth and the timeless fight in his eyes.

"People say Aces are born only to follow the orders of a sovereign. I am the last of those, but you are not the last Ace. So I must—"

"You're not the last," Naqam blurted out, then his eyes went wide and he lowered his head. "I apologize, your—"

"No." This time, the King cut him off, making him look up. "You're right. Tarian is, hopefully, not the last of us. So you might understand why I guard her so jealously."

All Naqam could do was nod.

"She holds all the honor of our line. It is a heavy burden." Killian once again pinned Naqam with his stare. "And until I can know the truth of you, Ace, I cannot allow you near her."

"And what of the honor of my line," Naqam said quietly. "In your view, Tamsus and the last Heart Queen have tarnished it beyond redemption. Would you deny me the opportunity to show you the truth and reclaim my birthright? That of a proud Ace?"

"What makes an Ace proud?" Killian asked. "Obedience? Service? No, I don't think so."

"We're born only to serve," Naqam said, his soul crying at the words. Bitter as it was, he agreed with the King, but what he thought didn't truly matter.

Naktis had more than made sure he understood that.

The King sighed heavily. "It takes every ounce of restraint I have, something I come by dearly, to not just put you in chains and throw you in some dark hole, never to be thought of again."

"So why don't you?" Naqam asked, even as the very idea sent a thrill of hatred and fear through him.

"Because, as my wife and daughter have so adamantly argued, there is neither honor nor truth in that course of action." The King walked toward the door, making Naqam scramble out of the way. He turned back to the Ace, expression somber. "Mad has freely admitted that you very well might decide to put a bullet in his back on this trip. We would have no way of knowing until it was too late, and by then you would have disappeared, leaving us with grief and no balm to our fury."

Naqam's mouth was dry. The idea that Mad considered him a back-shooter brought an unpleasant sensation to the center of his chest.

"Yet he still goes," Killian continued. "He, Alice and Adira are the only people I trust entirely in this whole world. Do not stain your honor any further by tearing him away from my family."

"I have no intention to harm him," Naqam said, the words heavy on his tongue and in the air with the truth of them.

While sour hatred still stirred in him at the sight of the King or Queen, it did not when he was near the Real Worlder in such a heavy way as it once had. Much to his confusion, he had begun to realize that there was something about the man he admired, respected even. 

Part of him still itched to prove himself against the man. Still to this day, Madison Hatter was the only being in Wonderland he viewed as any kind of real threat. Any kind of real challenge.

Thinking of Hatter had his eyes flicking to the clock perched on the bookshelf.

"Go," Killian said. "I know he waits for you. But bear in mind our words here, Ace. And know if you break his trust, I will hunt you to the ends of this earth, and to any world beyond."

The threat weighed cold on his skin and he nodded once more before Killian left him alone.

Naqam turned blindly toward his wardrobe, wishing he had never come to this place.