Heartless

It was a new day in Hearts, and she was the Queen.

“Off with his head.”

‘Why is a raven like a writing desk?’

I pictured to myself the Queen of Hearts as a sort of embodiment of ungovernable passion – a blind and aimless Fury.

– LEWIS CARROLL

They smell tart.’

‘They are tarts.’

I pictured to myself the Queen of Hearts
as a sort of embodiment of ungovernable passion—
a blind and aimless Fury

It was a new day in Hearts, and she was the Queen.

‘Off with his head.’

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

His cheek started to twitch. ‘You want to hear a riddle, you say? I know a very good one. It begins, why is a raven like a writing desk?’

‘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.’

She would do anything. Marry any king. Wear any crown. Give her heart to anyone who asked for it. She would serve Time himself if he would bring Jest back to her.