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A sudden and intense rush of dizziness overtook me, and I shook, unable to breathe as I came to terms with the truth of my feelings. I wanted Casamir to love me because I loved him, but I needed his name.

What was hisname?

The more frustrated I grew, the less hold I had on my emotions. I felt frantic and my chest tightened, and my heart felt as though it was beating all over my body. I bent at the waist and tried to take in air, repeating the letters of Casamir’s name.

U,I,A,S,N.

I said them over and over until I could breathe again.

Slowly, my thoughts turned to the mirror’s riddle, and I recalled the times when I had wailed and howled and cried at my family’s deaths. My grief had spanned mornings, and all I had ever felt was agony. All I had felt was—

Anguish.

My heart rose. That had to be Casamir’s true name.

My body danced with delight, vibrating with excitement. I whirled, intending to race to him and speak it against his lips as I confessed my love, but as I turned, I came face-to-face with a man.

“Well, hello,” he said, and while he tried to sound pleasant, I immediately felt on edge.

I got the sense by the way he approached, as if I were a wild animal, hands outstretched, palms flat, that he had been trying to sneak up on me.

He wore a purple hat and strange purple clothes that seemed to be missing buttons down the front, for his shirt hung open, exposing his chest and stomach.

“Who are you?” I asked, my pulse racing. He tried to circle me, but I followed, wishing I had my ax. I would show him what to fear then.

“I am a prince. A mortal one,” he added, as if I could not tell. No fae would wear such clothing. No fae would approach me as if I were the threat. “My name is Flynn.”

He paused to bow and added, “At your service.”

“I do not need your service,” I said.

He watched me, blue eyes sparkling.

“Are you the maiden the prince is in love with?”

I wanted to ask how he knew about me, but I was stunned by his words.

Had he said the prince was in love with me?

I opened my mouth and then closed it, finally deciding to ask, “Why are you here?”

“The same reason you are here, I imagine. We are captives, are we not?”

I did not speak and instead took a step away.

“Do not be afraid,” he said, inching closer. “I will not hurt you. I am here to rescue you.”

“I do not need rescuing,” I said.

“It looks to me like you do,” he said.

Casamir’s name was poised on my tongue. I knew if I called, he would come, but before I could speak, something tight wrapped around my wrists and mouth—vines.

Something struck me from behind, and I fell to my knees. When I looked up, a cluster of pixies flew from behind me, hovering near Prince Flynn. They were the ones who had left slugs in my room on my first night in Casamir’s castle.

Each held out a hand, and he popped a button from the cuff of his sleeves. The pixies took them in hand, the buttons as big as them, and they dragged them away, wings beating furiously.

It was their magic that restrained me, their magic he had bargained for. Two remained, each sitting on one of his shoulders.