They travelled north for six days, the weather growing steadily colder as they got closer to the Diamond lands. The trees had turned from leafy oaks and elms to evergreen pines, their sharp, pleasant scent surrounding them.

They had woken that morning to snow dusting the ground around them, frost sticking Naqam's eyelashes together when he woke up. Shivering, he groaned as he sat up, a crackling sound making him turn. 

Hatter was crouched over a fire, shivering as he warmed his hands over the flames. He tugged at his long coat, then pulled a pair of gloves out of his pocket. His breath steamed in the air as he shoved his hands into the leather gloves.

Naqam moved closer, then his eyes wandered to his saddlebags. The cold bit painfully at the exposed skin of his face and hands, a chill wind cutting through his clothes. He had no clue how he'd slept through it beginning to snow.

Not about to freeze to death, he used stiff, clumsy fingers to unbuckle the bag. Still shivering, he pulled on another shirt, then tugged the cloak Tarian had given him free.

He took a moment to study the clasp, which was fashioned into the shape of a gryphon. This inspired a frown, but the fabric was lush and had the promise of warmth even wrapped around his fingers.

After a moment's hesitation, he wrapped the cloak around himself, sighing as the heavy fabric settled around him. He pulled up the hood, the chill immediately cut away from his ears. Hatter looked up, eyes narrowing at the cloak, but he didn't say anything.

Naqam huddled gratefully into the warm fabric, the heat from the fire washing over him like a bath. His breath still frosted in the air, but the cold wasn't quite so painful.

It had just caught him by surprise. It had been so long since he'd been north that he'd forgotten how abruptly the weather could change. And he'd never been so far north so late in the year.

Hatter squinted up at the white sky, then muttered under his breath, glaring at the cloud cover. "Another day of riding will put us at Diamond Castle. Maybe less depending on if the snow gets any deeper."

"I hate snow," Naqam muttered, standing up to work the stiffness out of his legs.

Hatter smirked. "We won't be here long. This isn't a diplomatic mission."

"Good," Naqam huffed. Politics bored him, and he tended to get unpleasant when he was bored. But his interest piqued here. "What are we doing?"

Hatter stood and kicked snow and dirt over the fire, the flames hissing as they died. He walked over to his horse, brushing a gloved hand over the horse's neck and back, pulling a saddle-blanket over the sleek, black hide. Then he picked up the saddle, heaving it up onto the horse's back.

The horse shook its head irritably, and Naqam couldn't help but sympathize as he followed Hatter's lead. He brushed his bare hands over Dell's warm back, making sure there was no snow or bits of vegetation that would rub under the saddle.

"Warm the bit under your arm," Hatter said. "The cold will burn her mouth."

Naqam nodded, taking Dell's bridle out of the saddlebag he had tucked it into. The metal bar that went into the horse's mouth was bitterly cold, and he tucked it under his arm to let his body heat soak into it.

When it was sufficiently warmed, he put the bridle over Dell's face. Then he threw the saddlebags over her hindquarters before rolling up and tying his bedroll to the back of the saddle.

He turned to find Hatter once again already mounted and waiting, so he scrambled up into the saddle. Hatter nodded and started his horse at an easy walk along the trail. Naqam sighed as he wrapped his cloak around himself, resigned to the fact that a slow pace would be the order of the day. 

The chill and the rocking motion of Dell's stride lulled him into a light doze as the hours passed. By late afternoon, the clouds began to clear, the sky turning a brilliant blue. Sunlight glinted over the sparkling frost coating the deep green needles of the pine trees, but it did nothing to warm the world.

Bright cardinals and more muted jays huddled on the branches of the pines, darting occassionally overhead. 

For a long time, the only sound around them was the crunching of the horses' hooves as they broke through the thin crust of snow. Naqam blew out a breath, watching as it smoked into the air before streaming behind him. More steamy breaths came from the horses as they huffed, picking their way up a long hill.

"Why did you come here?" Mad asked, making Naqam tense.

Dell burst into a trot as his muscles tightened. With a frown, he tugged on the reins, slowing her again to a walk. "Here... with you?"

Hatter shook his head, tucking his chin into the collar of his coat as a stiff breeze made snow flutter down from the thinning trees above them. "No. I mean here to the Spades. Why did you come to people you hate?"

Naqam's breath shortened, his mind blanking. Why was he being asked this? He thought he had convinced Hatter he meant no ill will. Wasn't that why he had been allowed back to Spade Castle?

Then he wondered if the knives had caused this, remembering Hatter's reaction upon seeing them.

Perhaps these were just old feelings directed at him... but he couldn't deny that they were eery echoes of his own thoughts of the past few days. Echoes of whether he really hated the Spades or not

Looking down at Dell's creamy mane, he wondered if he really carried any ill will now. After all, he hadn't killed the King, regardless of the fact that he'd had not one, but two perfect opportunities.

He started to deny what Hatter had said, but he was pinned with a fierce green glare that would allow no untruths.

"I don't hate all the Spades," Naqam said sullenly, an unruly part of his mind wandering to an image of Tarian smiling at him.

Hatter snorted. "You hate Killian and Alice. You hate me. My question remains the same, Naqam."

"I don't—"

"I can see it every time you look at us," Hatter interrupted. "Don't deny it."

Naqam bit at his lip, worrying the skin. He scowled when Hatter looked over his shoulder, demanding an answer even as his mount heaved itself up a particularly steep bit of the hill.

Naqam had spent the past days thinking over these questions as well. "There isn't enough left with the Hearts," he finally answered. "There is no one left to truly serve. They only wanted the idea of an Ace. They didn't actually know what to do with one."

The lie was strangely bitter on his tongue, yet he couldn't answer truthfully. His loyalty still compelled him to deception. He had no Oath binding him, like a proper Ace should, but he still couldn't fail any more than he already had. There remained a part of him that held fast to his teachings, even as the rest of his heart was thrown into confusion the more time he spent with these people.

And yet there was still something compelling a truth from him as well. He looked up, startled, when his horse came to a sudden halt. Hatter had his gloved fingers wrapped around one of the reins near Dell's mouth, stopping her dead.

Naqam hesitated, not sure the truth he intended to speak next would help or harm him. Yet, as he bore the weight of Hatter's gaze—along with the weight of his own uncertainty—he found that the truth was the only thing that would suffice.

His breath puffed out in another miniature cloud. "I do hate Killian. And Alice. I hate..." He hesitated, but the words still felt true. "I hate you, because you stole what my life would have been."

Hatter's expression suddenly hardened, eyes cold and distant, making Naqam's heart sink. But the Real Worlder didn't say anything, and Naqam had to press on.

"I know that Queen Mavros started the war. But... still. Killian completely destroyed us—" he winced at that small lie as well "—and I came here because I needed to know who you all really were, in the hopes that I would be able to find who I am."

It had been a shocking revelation, and one he had come to in the days after Adira's trials. Naktis had only ever told him he was the Ace of Hearts. The short time spent with Hatter and the Spades had challenged that notion.

Hatter watched him for a long moment, then his eyes softened in a way that shocked the Ace. "Find yourself, Naqam. The answers you want are inside you. Nobody around you will be able to help you find yourself." 

He turned his horse, and they crested the hill to find a breathtaking scene before them.

Golden sunlight bathed the glistening white stone of Diamond Castle, so bright it made the pristine snow around it look dingy. An aquamarine river wound around the eastern edge of the town surrounding the castle itself. Red banners snapped in the wind from the castle turrets.

Hatter took off his hat, ran a hand through his hair, then replaced it. "Hatred is a poisonous thing, Naqam. It's something that festers and sickens." He met the Ace's eyes. "Tomorrow I'm going to show you something. After that I am going to give you one day to let go of the hate that burns in you."

"What if I can't let it go?" Naqam whispered, knowing he shouldn't be admitting his hatred.

"Then it'll destroy you," Hatter said simply. "Just like it destroyed Mavros. Just like it nearly destroyed me."

This inspired a look of surprise, but all Hatter did was urge his horse forward. Naqam stayed on the hill's crest for a moment longer, staring down at Diamond Castle.

He didn't know what to do with Hatter's words. His soul ached, torn between the duty that had been drilled into him from birth, and the idea that every belief he'd ever held dear might be completely and utterly wrong.

Hatter rode away from him, allowing him yet another opportunity to fulfill his mission. It would be almost too easy to blame the Diamonds—distrust ran deep between the Decks. 

Mouth dry, his fingers touched the hilt of his right-hand blade. He could see in his mind's eye how it would strike right between his shoulder blades. How Hatter wouldn't make a sound—just slip from the back of the horse to hit the ground.

His stomach twisted, and he drove his heels into Dell's side, making her jump into a canter.

He caught up to Hatter, who murmured, "Pull your hood up. We'll have enough gawkers as it is."

Naqam scowled, but did as asked, hiding his rank mark. However, as they passed beneath the arch leading into the town proper, he was glad he had listened to Hatter.

People literally stopped dead in the street, staring up at the two men with gaping mouths and wide eyes. Naqam could appreciate their astonishment. Hatter cut quite a figure with his sin-black horse and his broad shoulders. The hat shielded his face from curious stares, making him even more mysterious.

A figure all in black riding brazenly through a Red territory.

Naqam nudged Dell forward, sticking close to Hatter's side, sharp eyes scanning over the crowd. Murmuring had started to pick up, people eyeing the two riders with expressions ranging from distrust to awe to cold dislike.

"Do these people have weapons?" Naqam muttered under his breath.

"Yes," Hatter whispered. "Killian repealed Mavros' law. Everyone has a right to bear arms if they wish."

"That's insane," Naqam hissed. "What if they decide to rebel?"

"Armed citizens are the final check on government. Only dictatorships strip their citizens of the right to protect themselves," Hatter returned hotly. "Governments only serve at the will of the people if the people can ensure that  themselves. A government that doesn't fear uprising is the one that can commit any atrocity it wants. Mavros knew that, so she disarmed the people."

Naqam's eyes narrowed at the venom in the other man's words as he talked of the late Heart Queen.

"But what do you care if they rebel?" Hatter asked, casting an unreadable look over the Ace.

Naqam scowled. "The Hearts don't like the Diamonds any more than they like the Spades. You should know that."

Hatter snorted, then stopped his horse at a small, out of the way inn. "We'll stay here tonight."

The idea of a soft bed and a warm meal was more tempting than Naqam cared to admit, especially when Hatter, someone twenty-odd years his senior, hardly seemed fazed by the travel and the sparse meals. Still, he nearly sighed when they walked into the common room, and the heat from a large fireplace on the wall to their right flooded over them, chasing the chill right back out the door.

"Mad?" a surprised voice called from the bar at the back of the room.

Hatter grinned, long legs carrying him quickly across the nearly empty room. Naqam took a moment to cast suspicious looks over the two men sitting near the fire, but judging by the empty glasses in front of them, they wouldn't be any trouble.

He watched in silence as Hatter shook hands with the man behind the bar, clasping the man's shoulder in friendship.

"It's been a long time, my friend," the Diamond said. "Too long. Busy with the Spade and his mad ideas, I suppose?" Then he let out a loud guffaw. "Mad ideas."

Mad smiled patiently, like he'd heard that joke every day of his life. "Not so crazy as you'd think, Shan. But no, I've been at the ranch. Busy, you know."

"Busy?" Shan raised an eyebrow, and a heavy look passed between the two men. One that Naqam didn't understand, but then the Diamond nodded. "I understand, Mad. Why do you think I keep running this place?"

Hatter nodded one more time, then gestured Naqam forward. "Someone I want you to meet, Shan."

After an ascertaining glance at Hatter, he slowly took his hood down, shaking his hair from his face. Shan's eyes found his rank mark, then his face went salt white and he took a staggering step backwards.

Naqam's hands were on his knives before Shan had even reached for the pistol at his side. But before anything could happen, Hatter placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, staying his movement.

"Shan." Hatter turned slightly toward the other man. "He came to us."

"Are you out of your mind?" Shan hissed. "He's the bleedin' Heart's Ace, Mad!"

"I'm aware," Hatter said dryly. "But he's here with me."

Shan stared at Naqam, hatred and fear mingling on his face.

 Naqam stared back, but the expression didn't bring him any joy, like it should have. Instead, a bone-deep weariness spread through him. He dropped his hands from his weapons, making Hatter startle slightly at the movement.

"He can't stay here, Mad," Shan said, hand still on his gun. "If people knew you'd brought him here, there'd be a riot on our hands."

"Which is why I brought him here," Hatter said, tone cooler than it had been before. "I thought I could trust your discretion."

Shan's deep red eyes looked between the Real Worlder and the Ace. "He can't be in the city. You don't understand, Mad. You aren't from here. What Tamsus—" he muttered an unintelligible curse after that then continued  "—did still runs deep."

"Shan," Hatter protested, but Naqam didn't want to listen anymore.

It was one thing to carry hatred for another, it was another to see it aimed at him by someone he'd never even met. It was something that made outrage bubble in his stomach. It made him want to scream that he hadn't even been born when Tamsus killed the Diamond Queen.

"I'll be outside," he muttered, ducking away from Hatter's grasp. He pulled his hood back up, ignoring Hatter's call as he went back out into the darkening city, walking fast along the icy cobblestones.

He didn't pay attention to where he was going, weaving through the thinning crowds as the sun began to set. Shadows lengthened around him and before long, he was stumbling over a familiar sight.

The great Diamond library reared up in front of him. Its white marble walls and graceful columns were exactly as he remembered. Light radiated from the stained glass windows of all three floors, and he didn't hesitate, running into the soft peace that seemed to engulf the building.

Naqam ran up the stairs, ignoring the dirty looks he received, heading for the section he remembered from his childhood. He needed to read Alice's book again. He needed to find what he'd missed when he was a child, hating in the way a child did.

He needed to understand why the feeling that had once burned so brightly was now so weak.

He was nearly there when someone grabbed his arm, yanking him into a private room.

His instincts were thrown into overdrive and he grabbed the hand at his elbow,  pulling the attached arm out straight. His palm drove into the extended elbow, a nasty snapping sound followed by a strangled yowl of pain.

A light blazed to life, and Naqam's eyes went wide as he came face to face with Naktis. His lungs constricted, his gaze flicking down to the Heart soldier slumped against the wall, cradling his broken arm.

"Naktis? I-I—"

A sharp pain spiked into the back of his head, and the rest of his words were swallowed by darkness.

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Shan is Somali for Five