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I sniggered at the irony. At least they were iron links rather than strings, but still. Marionette, my ass.

Laughing felt better than weeping.

The beech loomed at the center of the merchant courtyard where I’d asked the stonemason’s son to steal marshmallows for me. When Queen Avalea made the decision to punish me this way, I’d mutely congratulated the woman on her ingenuity. She figured I needed some time reminiscing about my wrongdoings, including how I used to mistreat others. Also, I’d robbed the acorn from Autumn’s people, so let them see me suspended in public.

Because the acorn had been kept a secret, because the Royals hadn’t gotten to announce its discovery and host their public unveiling, my foul deeds were private. No one outside of that throne room knew my crime. But everyone did know me to be a thief. That much had been announced to anyone who inquired, so passersby could gawk at me and judge.

Princess Briar and Poet the Jester had balked at Queen Avalea when she’d opted for this brand of punishment.

“Mother,” the princess had disputed.

“Your Majesty,” the jester had admonished.

The queen had cut them off with, “She has deceived the monarchy, broken into the castle, and stolen from it. This is my decision.”

Still, the princess and jester’s expressions objected to it. I saw them swap looks, signaling they’d have more words about it later. Maybe they felt sorry for me.

The past bitch of an Aspen would have been amused by Her Majesty’s choice. If someone other than myself had been sentenced to days of this, exposed to the elements and countless righteous eyes, I’d have wanted a peek like everybody else.

Why does the queen make an example of you, girl?

What have you taken?

I’d lost count of how many strolling nobles had asked those questions today, looking down their noses at me.

Midnight tolled from the bell tower and vibrated up my limbs. I ached like a piece of rickety furniture with rusted hardware.

Residents had retired for the evening, the carts selling wares and morsels gone, the chatter gone. The courtyard was quiet but for the beech leaves shivering. I glimpsed the high turrets of the castle and wondered where the nobles kept their apartments.

Which suite was Aire’s? Which windows belonged to him?

Behind one of the tower panes, a candle glowed. When I glanced toward the balmy light, the curtain shifted.

So they would spy from indoors now. The lowly prisoner suspended from chains like a marionette.

From the tips of turrets, flags snapped in the breeze. By some miracle, they’d let me keep my feather hat, probably to keep my head warm. The Royals were righteous but not cruel. They’d ordered me dressed in woolen garments as well, to combat the waxing and waning of Autumn’s weather.

Two armed guards had posted themselves at the gate separating this courtyard from the next. I distracted myself, my gaze tracing the three-lobe blades of their corseques. Not a bad design.

Stars speckled the sky. I counted them until my chin began to droop, the headpiece sliding across my skull, about to fall off.

Sooooo sleepy.

A sound rolled, rolled, rolled across the courtyard floor, seamless in its progression, scraping my ears. I blinked up. A tiny metal cylinder came into focus as it slid along the ground, parallel to the gate, as if a set of fingers had flicked it.

It stopped at the guards’ feet. And that’s when I noticed the smoke coiling from one end of the cylinder.

“Psst,” a voice pinched from the darkness, from a courtyard door leading into the castle. I turned and collided with puffy green eyes popping from a crack in the partition.

Another voice drawled, “Might want to close your eyes. Like, now.”

On cue, the cylinder burst. A quiet eruption. The smoke tendrils went wild, ballooning into an odorless smog. I whipped my head away, clenching my eyes shut.

The corseques clattered to the ground. Two oomphs and thuds.

A few seconds later, footfalls dashed toward me. Lifting a single eyelid, I saw a pair of unconscious lumps that used to be the sentinels. The smog had evaporated. It had happened so fast and close to them.

Nicu threw himself at me. “Aspen!”