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Mother’s eyes widened. My grandmother gasped and whispered anxiously with her husband, the old king.

“You have me very curious,” said the god.

“I want you to releaseallof the king’s beloved back intothe world where they belong,” I said.

“What?” whispered Philippe. Hope glimmered in his brown eyes.

The Shadow King tilted his head and wrung his long fingers together. “Why would I do such a thing?” he asked. “I’d be left here... alone. With no new stories of the world above.”

I gave Lope’s hand a final squeeze before I took a shaky step closer to him. “I’ll stay here. I’ll be your storyteller. Forever.”

Mother gripped my arm so tight, I thought she’d break it. “Ofelia, no!”

The god’s eyes narrowed. “One soul, only to lose six? It is not an equal bargain.”

What did he want? He wanted to understand humanity. He wanted to know our stories. He wanted to know about our emotions, about joy, about love...

I had nothing to give. Nothing to give but love.

“King of Shadows,” I said, with all the authority of a princess, “if you free these souls, I will tell you stories. And I will prove to you that human love is real. Not some selfish thing like the king made it out to be. I’ll tell you all I know about the world above. You have heard my stories once before. You know they are spectacular indeed.”

His eyes brightened like a flaring candle.

Mother stood in front of me. “I’ll stay in her place.”

I clung to her arm, glaring at her. “Mother, no—”

“You are my daughter,” she snapped. “It ismyduty to protectyou—”

“This is what it means to grow up,” I replied. “Instead of reading stories, I can write one now.” I nodded to the Shadow King. “You have my proposal.”

“I accept your bargain,” said the king of Shadows.

Mother’s arms fastened around me. “Then I’ll stay with you, too.”

He snapped his fingers—but nothing changed. Nothing felt different. Though I’d accepted the price I’d pay, I let out a long sigh.

The bargain was made. They were free.

I turned to Françoise and all of my family. “It isn’t right, what’s happened to you,” I said. I looked at them, some smiling, some with tears in their eyes—some with both. “I cannot undo what King Léo did. But you deservelife.”

“You are nothing like the king,” said Françoise. She curtsied deeply to me. “You are as brave as you are good.”

The others approached me, keeping their gazes shied from the god watching over us.

“Bless you, my child,” said the queen mother, kissing me farewell.

King Augustin embraced me, and so did his son.

Sagesse crossed the dark grass toward me, her daughter’s hand in hers. She reached into the pocket of her gown andheld out the small, magical hand mirror.

“Since I am with my Eglantine again,” she said, “you can use this to speak with your love, even while you are apart.”

I pressed the mirror against my heart. “Thank you,” I said.

She was right. I could see Lope still, even for a few minutes each day. We could continue to speak. Like Lope had said, it would only do us good to stay in correspondence with each other.

Lope stood close by. With her bruised neck and her tangled hair and her scar and the scabbard at her hip empty.