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Isaac finally unroots himself from his spot and greets us both. “Good evening, Princess. Good evening, Miss Strauss.”

Abigail waves her fan dramatically and extends the crook of her elbow toward Steven. “It’s very hot inside. Shall we all take a stroll through the gardens?”

Isaac reluctantly offers me his arm, and we fall into step behind the other couple. Thankfully, the gardens are not too crowded at this hour.

“Are you alright?” I ask under my breath.

“Your father denied my proposal.” His ashen face and stark tone betray the depth of his anguish, and a lump forms in my throat.

“But—You said you’d wait.”

He slows down until Abigail and Steven are out of earshot. “Why would the king allow us so much freedom this summer if he was not ready to accept my proposal? Doesn’t he know how badly this could affect you if I changed my mind?”

Changed his mind?

I eye him sideways, the downward curl of his mouth spelling trouble. “We only kissed twice.” Two modest ones at that. Peck. Peck.

“I know, but rumors can ruin lives.”

The statement stops me cold, and I dig my heels into the stone pathway. “What rumors?”

Isaac’s shifty gaze drops to the ground and causes my stomach to twinge. Reputation is everything in my world, and if a nasty rumor is somehow circulating about me, if there’s even one word spoken in society about my shadow magic or my trip to Faerie…it would destroy my future. No exaggeration.

“Come along, you two.” Abigail waves us forward with a gloved hand.

My heart beats heavy in my throat for the rest of the silent, awkward walk, and by the time we rejoin the festivities, I feel like throwing up the handful of grapes I swallowed earlier.

Isaac excuses himself quickly, and I’m stuck dancing the quadrille with Steven’s brother to keep up appearances. The other girls whisper in my wake, their avid stares prickling my skin.

After the dance ends, Cece slumps on a seat at the edge of the dance floor, in view of the whole gallery, and I walk over to her.

“Oh, what rotten luck I have. And so early in the night, too. I just might cry!” Her face wrinkles in a desperate, fake-as-hell pout as she waves me over. “Penelope, there you are! I’m afraid I twisted my ankle, sister. Will you take me home?”

Cece always puts a little too much actress in her princess.

Eyes wide, I meet her determined gaze. “Of course.”

Cece squeezes my hand and leans on me in the guise of protecting her ankle. “Let’s get out of here before these bats get the better of us.”

“What did you hear?” I ask quietly.

“The official story is that you refused Isaac after leading him on all summer.”

A low curse escapes me. “Crops!”

Esme joins us in a hurry with a polite smile plastered on her lips. “What’s the matter, Your Highnesses?”

“My ankle twisted the wrong way, dear Esmeralda. How unfortunate! I need to lie down,” Cece says.

Brows raised, Esme acquiesces to her dramatic request, and the butler calls for the carriage.

“How bad is it?” I ask my tutor on the ride home.

The ladies-in-waiting have a penchant for gossip, so she probably got a complete account of the rumors Cece overheard.

Esme’s mouth curls down in a worried grimace. “I will try to smooth things over with the king before someone else tells him. He’s put you in an impossible position…”

“Why did Father say no to Isaac?” Cece asks willfully, not-so-patiently waiting for me to fess up.