But now Galen was kneeling down in front of Lily’s stool.

“Heinrich will be waiting for you at the gate,” Galen said firmly. “He is to make sure you get out. He won’t be part of the enchantment.”

Lily slumped, putting her shaking hands on his shoulders.

“But you will, won’t you?” Pansy’s voice broke on a sob.

“Yes, Pan,” Galen said quietly.

“I don’t like that,” Pansy said.

Galen stood and put his arms around the fine-boned girl, while Rose continued to comfort Lily. Oliver looked away. It was such a private moment; he hated to intrude on it. Galen was beloved by all of the sisters, but the love between him and Rose was so clear and shining that it hurt to look at them, spending their last hours together caring for the other girls.

Oliver got up, pretending that he needed something from the table near the door.

“Put your cloak on,” Petunia said, following him.

Petunia

Petunia looked over her shoulder as she led Oliver out the door. “I left my matches in my room,” she said. “I had better make sure no one’s found them.”

“Be careful,” Rose warned.

“We will,” Petunia said.

“Remember, Pet,” Hyacinth said, “supper is late to night, and we are to go straight to the ball afterward.”

“Yes, yes,” Petunia said as she went out, with Oliver invisible beside her. He had one light hand on her elbow, and she did her best not to put her other hand on top of it. “Honestly, they still treat me like I’m six,” she complained to him after she had closed the door.

“They probably always will,” Oliver offered in a whisper. “I know it drives my brother Simon wild, but I just always see him as a four-year-old swinging a wooden sword at the trees.”

There was no further talk until they reached her room. Oliver unfastened the cloak but left it over his shoulders just in case.

“I know why too,” Petunia said, picking up the threads of their conversation. “You’re used to looking out for Simon, and you always will look out for him. Especially because he’s like me.” She made a rueful face. “He’s not afraid of being a bandit, and I’m not afraid of this.” She waved a hand around at the tatty black furnishings.

“You’re not?” Oliver looked at her in amazement.

“I know I should be,” she confided, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I really should. But you have to understand: I came here almost every night of my life from the time I was two until I was almost seven. This was like an extension of my home. They might say mean things, and when I was ill I didn’t always want to come, but no one ever hurt me directly. And, even though I know now that he’s horrible, Kestilan is very handsome, and when you’re six and a handsome prince wants to dance with you … can you help being flattered?”

Oliver sank down in a chair, staring at her.

Petunia closed her eyes, wishing she hadn’t said a word. She’d thought that perhaps he’d understand, considering his own unusual upbringing. Her governess had been fond of the saying “familiarity breeds contempt,” but to Petunia familiarity had bred a strange sort of comfort. The clothes were slick and strange, the food tasted like it had been sprinkled with ashes, but she had known Kestilan far longer than she’d known Oliver. Longer than she’d known Galen, even, and he was as dear to her as if he had been born her brother.

She dared to look at Oliver. He was nodding slowly.

“I can see that,” he said. “Did you know, we never told Simon why we went out wearing wolf masks until he was twelve years old? My mother was afraid that he would see it as a game, or worse: a normal way to earn a living.” He nodded again. “And he would have. But you’re really not afraid? Even now?”

“I guess I’m a bit … spoiled about it, I suppose is the word. Everyone tells me not to worry, that it will all be fine.” She shrugged. “Just like last time. Galen killed the King Under Stone, we locked the gate, and we were safe.” She couldn’t help but grin at him. “It is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me. Even more exciting than being abducted by you.

“Galen and Rose got married that summer,” she went on. “It was terribly romantic.” She shrugged again. “Honestly? I’m having a hard time believing that it won’t happen like that again. Galen will work some magic. We’ll seal the gate and go home. Poppy and Daisy will have a beautiful wedding.”

Oliver got up from his chair and came over to the bed. He sank down beside her and put his arm around her waist. She leaned her head on his shoulder.

“It will be all right,” he told her. “You shouldn’t be afraid. After to night it will all be over. You will be home, getting ready for Poppy and Daisy’s wedding. I promise you that.”

“And you’ll have your earldom back,” Petunia said with total confidence.

“I wish I felt as certain,” Oliver said.

She pulled away from him. “You will,” she said. “It was the King Under Stone who took it from you, to give to the grand duchess.”

He gaped at her.

“She just told me,” Petunia said. “I didn’t know his influence reached so far, but I should have. If he can cause wars and kill our suitors and make it so Mother and Rose and Lily … so that they couldn’t have children.” Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away. “Then it was probably no great feat to destroy your earldom.”

“I promise to get you safely home,” Oliver repeated, sounding shaken. “And I promise that I will get my father’s lands back.” He clenched his fists.

His promise hung in the air for a few heartbeats while they sat together in silence.

“Oliver?” Petunia asked after a time. “Are you afraid?”

“No,” he said. “I’m not afraid.”

Petunia didn’t know if it was true or not, but it sounded true. “Thank you,” she said.

He leaned around, and her heart started to thump. He was going to kiss her.

But before he could, there were voices in the corridor. He leaped to his feet and fastened the cloak. A moment later, Olga came in, looking sulky. With her was the tall court lady, a triumphant expression on her face.

“Here is your new maid,” she announced.

“I’m supposed to be a princess,” Olga said.

Petunia felt her skirts move just a little and heard the scrape of a boot. Oliver was under the bed again. She wondered if he was going to peek while she dressed for the ball. She found that she wouldn’t wholly object.

“Olga, don’t be stupid,” Petunia said. “Haven’t you figured out by now that everything they say is a lie? They only brought you here because there are no real servants. So stop sniveling and help me dress.”

The court lady went off with a bray of satisfied laughter.

Olga yanked Petunia’s cloak off and threw it on the bed, then began to rip at the fastenings of her gown. Petunia felt like a chicken being plucked for dinner.

She twisted away. “I know this is a riding gown, but it’s mine and I’m going to wear it to night anyway. I just need you to help me with my hair.”

“You’ll look like a fool,” Olga said.

“Stop being rude and listen to me,” Petunia retorted.

“I don’t want to listen to you, Your Highness,” Olga growled.

“Prince Grigori and his grandmother live in a chalet across the lake,” Petunia said as though Olga had not spoken. “Prince Grigori wanted to marry me, but I refused.”

“So you’re saying that I can have the prince, since you’ve cast him aside?” Olga sounded even angrier at Petunia’s proposition.

“What I’m saying,” Petunia said with icy patience, “is that you can sulk until they have you beaten, or you can make the best of things. You love Grigori, do you not?” Silence. “Then I’m telling you that you have an opportunity here, if you choose to take it.”