“I’m not going to tell you,” Petunia said, not caring if she sounded childish. “The king will probably try to kill him.”

“Probably?” The women all shrieked with laughter as their tall leader leaned over Petunia. “There is no ‘probably’ about it. You and all your sisters need to be taught a lesson about where you belong, and whom you belong to.” The woman’s long nose was almost touching Petunia’s now.

“I don’t belong to anyone,” Petunia said, gripping her cloak in both hands and resisting the urge to pull out her pistol and shoot the woman. “But if I do marry Kestilan, I shall order you flogged in the middle of the ballroom as a wedding gift.”

“Marrying one of the princes does not give you the right …”

“Are you completely sure of that?” Petunia raised one eyebrow at the woman. “I can hardly see the king objecting. Rionin strikes me as one who would enjoy that sort of thing.”

The woman’s face paled under her heavy powder, and Petunia knew she had struck a nerve. Petunia smiled at the woman, who was the one to take a step back this time.

“Dinner in an hour?” Petunia made a pretense of yawning. “You can go now.”

She shoved her way out of the ring of ladies and went to a chair, where she lovingly laid her cloak on the seat. Then she turned and watched them file out, her arms folded and one foot tapping. Their expressions were by turns horrified or enraged, but Petunia didn’t care. She was done with being bullied by tall people.

Dinner that night was awkward and silent. She was the only lady, and though Rionin didn’t join them—she got the impression that he didn’t need to eat anymore—the mood was oppressive. Even Kestilan had given up his usual insinuating banter and ate in silence. When she was done eating the flavorless, unidentifiable food, Petunia got up and left the table without a word. She found her way back to her room and barred the door with a chair, since it didn’t lock.

Petunia toyed with the idea of staying there all night, refusing to come out for the ball, but knew that it wouldn’t work. They would simply break down the door and drag her out by the hair.

She occupied her time by taking the bullets out of her pistol and using a long hairpin to scratch the names of the princes on them. The bullets weren’t silver, which were far too costly to carry all the time, but they would still kill the princes if she hit her mark. She didn’t need to use their names, either, but she didn’t care. It gave her something to do. Something other than just starting the palace on fire and walking away.

That thought gave Petunia pause. Would the twisted stones and slick wood of the Palace Under Stone burn? She had matches—she always had matches, considering them quite as essential as protective garters or a pistol—but did she dare set something alight?

No. Not just yet.

She went back to etching her bullets, occupying her hands again while she wondered, could she kill someone? Kestilan? The others? That horrible court lady? She just didn’t know. Poppy could shoot without hesitation, Petunia was sure, and Lily had already killed at least one of the princes. But Poppy and Lily were endlessly brave and the best shots in the family besides.

“The time is coming for you to choose, my girl,” she scolded herself. “Are you always going to be little Petunia, who nearly burned down Papa’s hedge maze and likes having dirty hands, or are you going to stand up and be one of the brave ones?”

“She’s talking to herself and she’s only been here a few hours,” Poppy said from the doorway. “I’d worry, but I can hardly blame— Oof!”

Petunia flew across the room and embraced her older sister tightly. Poppy squeezed her right back, belying her joking words. Then Petunia felt other arms around her. Looking up from Poppy’s shoulder, she saw all her sisters gathered around, their faces variously white from strain or red from crying.

“What’s happened?” She drew back, looking at them all in horror. “Why are you all here? How did Grigori trick you all?”

Rose smiled, a slight expression that quickly passed. “He didn’t trick us; he told us the truth. And we chose to come here.”

Petunia felt like the floor was tilting and thought she might faint for a moment. Rose quickly helped her over to a chair, and the rest of her sisters crowded into the room. Hyacinth shut the door and stood ready to bar it with her slight frame if anyone should try to enter.

“You chose to come here?” Petunia choked on the words. “Why?”

“To find you,” Rose said simply. “But don’t feel guilty, dear, that’s not the only reason.”

“What are the other reasons?”

Petunia looked at her sisters with a growing feeling of despair. She didn’t know how long they had been here, but they were already gowned in the slippery, bleak gowns of the Kingdom Under Stone. Their hair, too, was scraped into high twists and topknots, and they wore cracked and dulled jewels. Petunia knew that their weapons were probably gone, and thought she had better give her pistol to Lily or Poppy before someone came for them.

“After you disappeared,” Rose said, “Prince Grigori told us that you were safely where you belonged in the Kingdom Under Stone.”

“At which point, I nearly killed him,” Poppy muttered, and Daisy shushed her.

“We disarmed his men, tied them up, and searched the entire area,” Rose continued, “but it was as though you had been swallowed up by the earth; there was no sign of any gate. Grigori seemed very pleased with himself. We were all a bit in shock as well, so at his urging we went on to his hunting lodge, as it was only a few minutes away. He calmly informed us over refreshments that he had been working for Rionin for several years.”

“I will never get over him sipping his tea while Heinrich held a gun to his head,” Hyacinth said in a low voice. “He’s mad, or he has no soul.”

“Grigori— he— what?” Petunia could suddenly not take it all in.

“Grigori has been promised rewards beyond his wildest dreams if he helps bring us back here,” Rose said.

“Then why did you give in?” Petunia felt like crying. “Why did you come here?”

“To save our husbands,” Hyacinth said.

Petunia’s heart shuddered. “No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, no, no, he didn’t!”

“They’re well enough, for now,” Lily quickly assured her. “But we could either follow you, or the King Under Stone will kill our husbands and everyone else we love. Including Father.”

“He’s lying,” Petunia said, trying to swallow. “He’s lying! He doesn’t have the power! Why wouldn’t Rionin have killed Father years ago, then? And Galen and Heinrich?”

“He’s not lying,” Rose said, putting a slender hand on Petunia’s shoulder. “At least, Grigori isn’t. He truly believes that Rionin can do this. But it does make sense: why would Rionin waste his power killing our father or our husbands, if he didn’t have a way of bringing us here yet? He’s only just rediscovered how to make a gate.”

The rug in their sitting room had transformed into a stairway that led to the Kingdom Under Stone. It had been created for their mother by the first king, and she had taught them how to use it before her death. Galen had destroyed it after rescuing them ten years before.

“The first king had never taught his sons how to make such magic,” Rose explained. “But Rionin figured out how to do it at last. There was a temporary gate placed under the dead leaves around that rosebush you found. And a permanent one in Grigori’s hunting lodge. They thought that if you, the youngest, were taken first, it would inspire us all to follow and protect you.”

“And it did,” Pansy said. “We didn’t just come because Grigori threatened Papa and the others.”

“Thank you,” Petunia croaked. “But what now? What can we do? How can we fight this?”

“We will find a way,” Rose said at her most no-nonsense. “We did it before, and that was with only Galen to help us, and none of us able to tell a soul what was happening. We’ll do it again, older and wiser and with more help coming.”