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I wonder what it would be like, to never have to be alone.

“Sneaky little girl,” says Lady Nore indulgently. She reaches out and twirls my hair around her finger. “This is how I remember you, stealing through my castle like a thief.”

Poor Wren, I hope my expression conveys.So sad. And her mouth hurts.

Lady Nore sees only her simple daughter, sculpted from snow. A disappointment many times over.

Now that my tongue is regrown through the strange magic of Mab’s bones, I could open my mouth and make her into my marionette, to dance when I pulled her strings.

And yet, instead I bow my head, knowing she will like that. Stalling for time. Once I begin, I will have to get everything exactly right.

“And quiet,” she says, smiling at her own jest. “I remember that, too.”

What I recall is the depth of my fear, the tide of it sweeping me away from myself. I hope I can mimic that expression and not show her what I actually feel—a rage that is as thick and sticky and sweet as honey.

I’m tired of being scared.

“Say nothing until I allow it,” I tell her. My voice sounds strange, hoarse, the way it did when I first spoke with Oak.

Her eyes widen. Her lips part, but she cannot disobey me, not after the vow she made before the mortal High Queen.

“Unless I say otherwise, you will give no one an order without my express permission,” I say. “When I ask you a question, you will answer it fully, holding back nothing that I might find interesting or useful— and leaving out any filler with which you might disguise those interesting or useful parts.”

Her eyes shine with anger, but she can say nothing. I feel a cruel leap of delight at her impotence.

“You will not strike me, nor seek to cause me harm. You will not hurt anyone else, either, including yourself.”

I wonder if she has ever been forced to swallow her words before. She looks as though she might choke on them.

“Now you may speak,” I say.

“I suppose all children grow up. Even those made of snow and ice,” she says, as though my control of her is nothing to be overly concerned with. But I see the panic she is trying to hide.

My heart beats hard, and my chest still hurts. My tongue still feels wrong, but so does the rest of me. She is not the only one panicking.

“Summon the two guards outside the door. Convey to them that they should bring Oak here.” My voice shakes a little. I sound uncertain, which could prove fatal. “Tell them nothing else, and give no sign of distress.”

Her expression grows strange, remote. “Very well. Guard!”

The two outside the door turn out to be former falcons. I recognize neither of them.

“Go to the prisons, and bring me the prince.”

They bow and depart.

I have stood apart from the world for so long. That has made it hard for me to navigate being in it, but it has also made me an excellent observer.

I stare at Lady Nore for a moment, considering my next move.

“You may speak, if you wish,” I tell her. “But do not raise your voice and, should anyone come into the room, cease talking.”

I can see her considering not to say anything out of spite, but she breaks. “So, what do you mean to do with me now?” Around her neck, Lord Jarel’s fingers scuttle.

“I haven’t decided,” I say.

She laughs, though it sounds forced. “I imagine not. You’re not really a planner, are you? More of a creature of instinct. Mindless. Heedless. A little low cunning, perhaps, the way animals sometimes surprise you with their cleverness.”

“How can you hate me so much?” I ask her, the question slipping out of my mouth before I can snatch it back.