“Magic,” Oliver breathed as Bishop Schelker tied his horse beside Walter’s.

“Picked the lock, more like,” the bishop snorted. “Herr Vogel has many talents. Not all of them that mysterious. Or very honest.”

“Oh,” Oliver said, feeling foolish.

“Come along.” The good frau stalked up the stairs to the door.

Oliver and the bishop hurried after her. Oliver drew his pistol and was pleased that the bishop did the same. He wasn’t being overly cautious then. Their bullets were silver, which the bishop had blessed, but that would hardly keep them from being effective on an ordinary man.

Like Grigori.

“Hello the house,” Walter called out cheerfully. “Anyone at home?”

Silence.

Complete and utter silence. Not a single footstep could be heard that was not their own. No bustle of servants, no sound of a small caged bird twittering from the parlor, no hiss of a teakettle from the kitchen. The hair on Oliver’s neck stood on end, and he knew that they were all gone: Grigori, his men, everyone. But where had they gone without Oliver’s men seeing?

“I think we’d—” Bishop Schelker began, but Oliver silenced him, holding up one hand.

Oliver was sure that he had heard something, but he wasn’t sure what or where the sound was coming from. They all froze in the middle of the front hall, heads cocked and eyes unfocused. Then Oliver heard it again: a scraping noise that came from a room on the left.

Oliver readied his pistol and crept toward the room with Bishop Schelker just behind. Oliver crouched down and peered through the keyhole but couldn’t see anything. He tried the door latch. It opened easily, and Oliver jumped into the room with his pistol cocked.

Three men were lying bound and gagged in the middle of the floor. Oliver recognized Galen and Heinrich and assumed that the third man was another of the royal husbands.

Oliver holstered his pistol and pulled out a hunting knife. He ran to Prince Galen and sawed through the ropes that bound his hands while Bishop Schelker rushed to Prince Heinrich.

“This is a fine state of affairs,” said the crone as she came into the room. “Got the drop on you, did he?”

“Yes,” the crown prince said with disgust, removing his gag. “He did.”

“In all fairness, he did have a small army,” Prince Heinrich said.

“He … what?” Oliver looked around.

The hunting lodge showed no sign of a scuffle. Oliver’s heart clenched as he noticed a small marble statue of a stag in the corner of the room. He was almost certain that had belonged to his father.

“We followed Grigori here because we had his people tied up in the woods,” Galen said, as he massaged his hands and wrists. “We outnumbered him fourteen to one! Heinrich had a gun to his head! Then, when darkness fell, the room was filled with people—”

“Those weren’t people,” the prince Oliver didn’t know interrupted, his voice dark with revulsion.

“Under Stone’s court,” clarified Heinrich. “They surrounded us, tied us up, and then they were gone in a matter of minutes.”

“Where are the princesses?” Walter’s voice was as sharp as Oliver had ever heard it.

“They’re gone,” said the other prince as the bishop freed him. “They went to Under Stone to be with Petunia, before we were ambushed.”

“Ye gods,” Oliver said, feeling sick.

“Begin at the beginning,” Bishop Schelker urged.

Galen leaned back against the sofa, still sitting on the rug. His skin looked grayish, and his voice was raw, but he waved away Schelker’s waterskin. “We were coming here for lunch,” the crown prince began. “Halfway here, Petunia saw a rosebush in full bloom and tried to pick some of the flowers. We tried to stop her, but Grigori interfered. Before we could get to her, the ground opened up and she fell.”

“We know,” Walter Vogel said. “Oliver’s men were watching.”

“We came here, and when the courtiers arrived,” Heinrich said, continuing the story while Galen finally took a drink from the waterskin, “we were overpowered at once, all of us. Galen, Frederick, and I were tied up, and we could hear Grigori talking to the girls in another room for some time. They must have agreed to go after Petunia, because after a while, we heard only Grigori and his men. Then they disappeared too.”

“I’m amazed that Poppy didn’t just shoot Grigori,” Bishop Schelker said.

“She almost did. And so did I,” Galen told them. “But he is the only one who knows where the new gateway into the Kingdom Under Stone is.”

Prince Frederick sighed. “But now they’ve gone, and we still don’t know where the gate is.”

“We are not entirely without hope,” Walter assured him. “The gate is somewhere in this lodge. Oliver’s men haven’t seen any sign of anyone leaving.”

“Oliver’s men again?” Heinrich murmured.

Oliver was strangely embarrassed. “They were worried about Petunia,” he muttered.

“And a good thing too,” Frederick said.

“We’d better find that gate,” the crone said. She turned and started out of the room.

“Hold a moment,” said Heinrich. He got to his feet, nearly falling against the sofa as he did so. He stretched and rubbed his bad leg for a moment, a frown creasing his face. “What do we do when we get there?”

“Whatever needs to be done,” Walter Vogel said.

“Not good enough,” said Heinrich. “What will need to be done to stop this from happening over and over again?”

“Seal them all up once again, and this time we’ll make sure it holds,” the old man said, rubbing his seamed face.

“Can you be sure?”

“I haven’t spent the last fifteen hundred years learning to knit my own socks, boy!” The crone looked like she might box Heinrich’s ears, if she could have reached them.

Heinrich didn’t look pleased; he looked even grimmer, if that were possible. “You’ve found the way? Galen’s studies—”

“Galen’s studies are a wonder,” said Walter Vogel gently, “but as the good frau has said, we have had centuries of time to perfect our original spell.”

“Last time it took a dozen practitioners, and most of them died,” Galen pointed out. He put a hand on Walter’s shoulder and squeezed it. “If we dared to take more time—”

“What did I just say to the other one?” The old woman jerked a gnarled thumb at Heinrich. “We wouldn’t have come if we didn’t think we could succeed.”

“The power will mostly pass through the good frau and myself,” said Walter. “The rest of you will be quite safe.” He leveled his gaze at Oliver. “But we will need all of you.”

“Of course,” Oliver said, getting to his feet. He tried not to show how stiff the ride had made him. “Of course I’ll do whatever necessary.”

“And if you’re wrong, Walter? About the focus? About the effectiveness of the spell?” Heinrich’s frown had never left his face.

“Have we ever been wrong before?” The good frau smacked him on the upper arm, which was as high as she could reach. She looked at Galen. “Well? Tell him!”

“No, good frau,” Galen said, with a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You never have been wrong.”

“I have everything here that Walter and the good frau have asked for, and the items that you sent for as well, Galen,” Bishop Schelker said, indicating a satchel slung across his chest. “Let’s find the gate and go. The princesses have spent long enough below.”

They tramped from room to room, looking for a way to reach the Kingdom Under Stone. In every room, Walter Vogel and the good frau would stand with their heads cocked as though listening to something. Then they would shake their heads and move on.

“The whole house reeks of magic,” the crone complained after a few minutes. “Did Under Stone’s men tramp through every pantry and water closet?”

After they had searched every room in the house, they went back through the front hall. Walter decided that Prince Grigori had destroyed his gate after he and his people went through, and there was no point in lingering.