Naqam finished his final circuit through the forest, sprinting hard from the edge of the trees to the wall. He slapped his palm against the dark stone to mark the end of his morning run, then braced his hands on his knees, breathing hard. The sun beat down on his back, but was offset by the wind that seemed to be a perpetual presence here.

"Little slower today," Sebati said, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall near the gate.

"Was not," Naqam responded, jerking upright, outraged. Then he blinked in surprise at the reserved, teasing smile the Seven flashed him.

Sebati's smile faded when Naqam didn't return the gesture in a timely manner. The guard gave him an odd look, then went back into the guard's room. Naqam sighed. Sebati was certainly the friendliest of the guards, but there were limits to his civility.

He nodded when one of the other guards opened the gate to let him into the castle's courtyard. The only response he got was a stony glare. That, at least, did not catch him by surprise.

King Killian had made it clear that the Heart's Ace was to be a permanent fixture at Spade Castle. He had not required the Ace be treated in a friendly manner. Which Naqam supposed he understood.

After all, he was still a Heart and—by definition—untrustworthy. He wasn't so optimistic as to think he wouldn't have to prove his worth, and in all honesty, he wanted to prove that he was trustworthy. Nothing had ever been handed to him in his life, he'd always had to work for what he had, and—probably much to Naktis' chagrin—that had left the Ace with a fierce prideful streak. 

He would earn the King's trust, or he wouldn't want it at all.

Three weeks at Spade Castle had passed steadily after their return from the Diamonds. Naqam had quickly fallen into a routine that consisted of self-imposed workouts, ghosting through the castle trying to learn the layout down to the smallest closet and reading, which he found he actually quite enjoyed when the books were not musty old tomes full of false history. But he could only read for so long. And wandering the castle came with its own challenges.

Overall... he was bored. Epically, dreadfully, suicidally bored.

He was not allowed into the village. He was not allowed to spar with the guards. He was not allowed to go out riding by himself.

He was apparently allowed to go slowly insane.

Two weeks ago, Hatter had disappeared back to that ranch of his, and Naqam wished fiercely that the Real Worlder had taken him along. Early mornings and late nights bracketing days filled with hard work were much more appealing than what he had here.

He used the sleeve of his shirt to brush the sweat from his forehead, then stared blankly at the castle doors before him. Naqam did not want to go back inside, even as a chill wind whipped off the sea, making him shiver. He wasn't ready to try to ignore the obvious dislike exhibited by a majority of the castle's inhabitants—the way servants still skirted around him, some going far out of their way to avoid him. The way courtiers and visiting dignitaries sneered.

The only people who made an effort to talk to him were Tarian, Alice and Adira. One genuine, one pitying and one grudgingly. The King—if Naqam saw him—never spoke to the Ace, merely watched him with a narrow, thoughtful expression Naqam couldn't quite decipher.

Slowly, he turned from the doors and headed toward the western gardens, where he'd at least be protected from the wind.

As if conjured by his thoughts, another burst of wind blew his hair free of the strip of cloth he'd used to tie it back, strands whipping against his face and making him growl. He pushed his hair out of his eyes, then frowned at the red strands still fluttering in the breeze.

Not taking the time to really think about it, Naqam jogged around the castle, toward the guard's barracks. He slowed as he approached the door, dodging around the corner of the building when a handful of soldiers came outside, laughing and talking amongst themselves.

Envy flared in his chest at their camaraderie.

He waited until they were gone, then slipped inside, winding through the narrow halls toward the back. He hesitated, watching the old barber warily. 

The Four's face was wrinkled, his black hair long turned silvery-grey by time. But his hands were still steady as he bustled around the small room, straightening the tools of his trade. Naqam hovered in the doorway, suddenly losing confidence in his plan.

Then the barber turned. "You gonna stand there staring all day, or is there something I can help you with, Ace?"

Naqam startled and stepped forward into the room, eyes darting nervously over the pairs of sharp scissors and the deadly-sharp straight razors. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, he ran a hand through his hair which now hung nearly to his shoulders after two months away from Heart Castle.

Before he could open his mouth, the Four nodded sagely. "I'd expected you sooner. Sit."

Unsure what else to do, Naqam sat gingerly in the seat the barber had indicated. He stiffened when a hand was placed on his shoulder, but all the Spade did was gently pull him back, forcing him to settle more deeply into the chair.

"It's... always in my face," he explained quietly, avoiding the stare of his reflection in the mirror in front of him. Instead, he watched as the Four combed out the tangled length of red strands, then picked up a pair of silvered scissors.

"Stay still," the old man warned before he began cutting.

Naqam focused on his breath, playing with his heart rate as the man worked, forcing his muscles to perfect stillness. 

"I said still, not dead," the Four said dryly. 

Naqam nearly smiled, but still didn't move an inch.

A quiet snipping sound filled the air, making him flinch minutely every time the scissors closed. Finally, he simply closed his eyes. There was no stopping now. 

But the change, however small, was daunting. Heart Aces had always worn their hair long. However impractical, that was just how it had always been since the beginning of Wonderland. He might have made his decision to turn his back on his Deck, but actual, physical indications of his choices made it seem more real somehow.

Naqam's hands turned into fists as the scissors got closer to his skin. 

"Still," the Four chided, making Naqam scowl. But he did as he was told and—sooner than he expected—the barber was brushing at the back of his neck and his shoulders.

Heart suddenly in his throat, he slowly opened his eyes.

The barber had given him the same haircut worn by the other Spade soldiers—short and neat and out of his face. Tentatively, Naqam ran a hand over the hair at the top of his head, the short strands soft under his sensitive fingers. 

There was nothing hiding the rank mark on the side of his neck anymore, and Naqam stared at it. He hadn't even thought about that.

"I'm not hiding anymore," he whispered.

The Four had already started sweeping, not paying any mind to the Ace. Naqam slowly stood, feeling somehow off-balance. He ran a hand once more through his hair, slowly beginning to revel in the lightness, in the fact that when he turned his head he no longer had to brush an errant strand out of his face.

"Th-thank you," he said, voice a little hoarse.

He was rewarded with a slightly startled glance from the barber, who then simply nodded and said, "Come back when you need a trim. I'm here every day save Sunday."

Naqam wondered why that particular day, then nodded, murmuring another thanks. He left, slipping silently through the barracks until he was once again outside. A gust of wind ruffled his hair, feeling wholly different than before.

A small grin tugged at his mouth and he bit his lip to stop it from getting any bigger. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he began to stroll toward the gardens, debating on if a visit to the castle's library would be worth it.

He loved the library, but its keepers didn't love him. Multiple times he'd had to ask Tarian to borrow books for him, because the librarians were loathe to let him take any book from the premise. When he read in the library though, they hovered like vultures, acting as if he had been sent there to slaughter their precious books. 

The thought had his mood suddenly plummeting, his head lowering as his shoulders curled slightly with shame. He hadn't been sent to slaughter books. He'd been sent to kill the royal family.

Just because he wasn't going to didn't wipe away the sin that he'd wanted to. And there still remained the fact that Naktis would eventually realize that Naqam had defected. When he did, he would retaliate. 

His hands bunched into fists again. Would he really be able to stand by his decision if it came down to it? Would he be able to kill a Heart if that's what was required to protect a Spade?

Naqam was ashamed to realize he had no answer to that question.

"Oh! Look out!" a shrill voice cried.

There was a flash of bright blue and Naqam's hand shot up unconsciously. A ball smacked into his palm, wood stinging against skin. Slowly, he lowered his hand, staring perplexedly down at the ball.

Naqam looked up just as the princess reached him, her cheeks flushed and her hair falling free of the clip holding it back from her face. 

"Are you all right?" she huffed. A mallet was still held in her hand, and Naqam looked past her to see the Queen and Lady Adira watching them.

"Uh... fine," he eventually managed, turning his attention back to the princess. "I caught it." 

"Barely," the princess said, making him scoff. Then she let out a small laugh as she took the ball from him. "I was certain we were about to have an unconscious Ace on our hands."

Naqam quirked an eyebrow at that, a smile tugging at his mouth. "Perhaps one with a blackened eye." His smile broadened when the princess laughed outright, the sound pure as silver bells.

It dropped when she blinked twice, her lips parting in surprise.

"Your hair!" she exclaimed, eyes wide. "You cut it."

He ran a self-conscious hand over his head, suddenly nervous.

Then the princess clapped her hands together, her twilight eyes dancing with laughter. "You look wonderful, Naqam." She grinned. "Much less... sullen."

"I did not look sullen," he protested, not balking when she grabbed his elbow and began to tow him across the lawn.

"Yes you did."

He didn't have a chance to argue his case further before he found himself standing in front of the Queen, who was gaping at him. Naqam dipped into a low bow, only straightening when Tarian snickered.

The Queen was still watching him, something like astonishment on her face, and Naqam shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. She smiled apologetically. "You look very nice, Naqam. It suits you."

A blush crept across his face and he looked down, muttering another thanks. 

Lady Adira chuckled and said, "Well you certainly look less ridiculous this way."

Naqam scowled at the Jack, making her laugh again. Her hair was in a sleek ponytail as usual, a croquet mallet resting casually against her shoulder. She cast a critical eye over him and he might have keeled over in shock when she nodded approvingly if Tarian hadn't still had her hand on his elbow.

He bit his lip, careful not to cut himself and looked around. In a desperate attempt to shift the attention away from him, he asked, "What are you doing?"

The lawn was littered with brightly colored balls and arches sticking up from the ground in a pattern Naqam couldn't quite understand. 

"Playing croquet," Tarian said. At his blank stare, she explained, "It's a game. You know, something you do for fun."

He'd never done anything just for the sake of fun. 

The thought must have been written across his face, because Alice offered her mallet to him, which he took with no small amount of uncertainty. She smoothed the skirt of her spring-green dress, and let out a sigh. 

"Why don't you take my place, Naqam. I'm sure Tarian and Addy can teach you." She kissed Tarian's cheek and said, "I'll admit to avoiding some paperwork that I unwisely let your father pass on to me."

Both Tarian and Adira giggled at that. The Queen bid them goodbye, seeming to nearly float as she walked away. The wind played with her loose blonde hair and the skirt of her dress, making her look like some kind of spring spirit peering at the edge of winter.

When the Queen had gone, Tarian tugged him over to the first arch while Adira went about resetting the game. Then Naqam listened intently as Tarian explained the rules.