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“What happened to you?” I asked.

“The king took me on a walk in the gardens—it was at night. I thought it was so strange, and then we kissed, and there was this door, and I woke up, and—” Her brow furrowed. “How is it you’ve come here? Only the king has visited before. And a time ago he brought—” Françoise’s blue eyes went wide. “Are you Marisol’s daughter?” When I nodded, she pressed her hands up against the glass. “Gods! You cannot be here. You must get away—”

“Let me see her,” I begged, fisting my hands against the glass. “Please, I’ve come all this way to see my mother!”

“I’ll fetch her, but then you must go. Go far away from this place.” Her blue eyes shimmered with tears. She clenched her fists at her side. “You aren’t safe here. Please don’t stay one minute more than you must.”

Her skirts fluttered as she turned on her heel and disappeared into nothingness. Once more, I was standing before the mirror all alone. I might have thought it to be a fantasy if not for the aching beat of my own heart.

You aren’t safe, she’d said. From theking? What would the king do to me? To his own daughter?

After an agonizing moment, two faces appeared beside my reflection: Françoise’s and my mother’s. She ran to me.I pressed my palm against the place where hers touched the glass.

“Darling, listen to me,” she said, her tone the frightening, sincere one that she only used when she was truly afraid. I had heard it only twice before. “I am not an illusion. I mean this with all my heart: you must run away from this palace as soon as you can. The king means you harm. Françoise and I, a woman named Sagesse, and the king’s family, we are all trapped here.”

“Trapped?” My voice was softer than an echo. “In—in the mirror?”

“No, love.” Her eyes shone, but she swallowed down her tears. “The king sent us to the Underworld.”

The Underworld.Just like Lope had said.

I breathed heavy and hard, trying to piece together all I had learned.

“He—he said this mirror doesn’t tell the truth,” I said. “And you did not mention this before—”

“He told me he wouldtortureyou if I spoke. I was terrified for you. I—I didn’t know what to do.”

“Ofelia,” Françoise said, “all that your Mother is saying is true. The king took me into the garden, and he pushed me through a door. Suddenly I was here.”

“It was the same for me.” Mother shook her head mournfully. “I’m so sorry you thought I’d forgotten you. I should have known that you would come after me. But now that theking knows you exist, now that he can call you his beloved, he will try to sacrifice you, too.”

“Why would he do that?” I squeaked. “S-sacrifice—”

“It’s a bargain with the king of Shadows, a trade—the lives of his loved ones for time on the throne.”

My stomach lurched. It was just as Lope had warned.

She was right. Abouteverything.

My mother banged her fist on the mirror, but it didn’t tremble. “He’ll do whatever it takes to keep that throne; Ofelia, don’t think he won’t—”

Her voice was drowned out by a whining sound to my left. The three of us turned. The door opened, and a tall figure appeared in the doorway, haloed from behind by golden light.

His six silhouettes seeped into the room.

I staggered backward into the mirror.

“Who is it?” asked Mother, her voice sharp and terrified. “Is it him?”

“Darling, why would you come here and frighten yourself like this?” asked the king in his soft, sweet voice. “I wanted this night to be perfect for you.”

I wished I had a knife. I wished I had a sword. I wished I had Lope.

“Ofelia, run!” my mother screamed.

My head rang. My legs trembled. My palms grew dewy against the glass.

“They like to tell you what you long to hear,” the king said, stepping closer, his hands behind his back like he did when we strolled through the corridors. His Majesty gestured to the women behind me. “You have always wanted to be a part of a fairy tale, and here they are, weaving one for you. Creating monsters out of thin air, stoking your fear—”