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I glanced back over my shoulder toward the beach. The nameless god had vanished.

“Can he just appear and reappear as he likes?” I whispered.

“Ignore that creature,” said my mother, guiding me up a stone staircase carved into a black hill. “He’ll pester you with questions and torment you with the past.”

We stopped at the top of the staircase. All around us was tall, black grass, brushing up against my knees. Affixed to black bushes were small, glowing sparks, like fireflies or stars, growing from the leaves. It was beautiful, yes, but twisted—like the world through the fog of a dream.

Mother’s hand squeezed mine. When I turned to look at her fully, tears glittered in her eyes.

“Let me just have one moment,” she said. “One moment to have you to myself.”

Her hand pressed against my cheek. She looked at me, and I took her in, too—her beauty, her warm eyes, and the way she was smiling, despite her tears.

I nestled my head against her heart, fitting myself perfectly into her embrace. “You were right about that palace. About the king. I should have listened to you—”

She hushed me and pulled me onto a bench made of glossy black stone. She rested her chin atop my head, slowly brushing her fingers through my hair. “I should have told you the truth sooner. I was so scared. That is why I ran away. That is why I changed my name. I never imagined that Léo would hurt either of us—it was the palace and its secrets that I did not trust.”

I shivered at the sound of his name. “Did you ever love him?”

“I did. I thought I did. But he was the king. He held incredible power over me. He could command of me anything he wanted. Even if the king was kind, even if he was more romantic than my husband was. His crown always loomed over us.”

Her words twisted in my middle. A girl, ordered about by a king. Commanded to do this, to go here, to say that. To love, if told to do so.

I thought of Lope.

She would have done anything for me. And she had.

I was the king’s daughter. I was just like him.

I wished I’d had the chance to be different. To show Lope the respect she deserved. To listen to her better. To be slow to speak. To look darkness in the eye rather than paint it over with gold.

As my thoughts gathered like storm clouds, Mother continued in a soft voice: “Luc made a comment in public abouthow close the king and I were. In a blink he was serving in His Majesty’s army, stationed at the front lines, and then he was gone.” She began to rock me, and for once in my life, I didn’t mind the way she treated me like a little girl. “Eventually I was brave enough to leave. I could feel you fluttering inside me, and I knew I could not protect you there.”

Mother pressed a kiss to my forehead, dampened by her tears. “You deserved so much better. I’m sorry.”

I wrapped my arms around her. “I couldn’t even dream of a better mother.” From within the pocket of my gown, I withdrew the locket, showing it to her. “The clasp is broken,” I said. “But it’s back where it belongs.”

Flipping open the latch, I looked at the painting of the two of us. Side by side, pressing close together, us against the world, just like we were now.

“Marisol?” came a man’s voice, warm and light.

Mother swept up the locket and rose to her feet. At the sight of the man before me, my heart lurched—he had the same dark eyes, the same proud nose, the same sharp features as King Léo. But he was smaller, and his long, curly hair was dark brown, neatly kept even in this strange, empty place. When he saw me, the color drained from his cheeks.

“Oh, gods,” he said. “He couldn’t have—his own daughter?”

Mother nodded and helped me up, pivoting me toward the stranger. “I’m afraid so. This is Ofelia, your—your niece.”

My eyebrows rose. “I have an uncle?”

The man reached out a hand. I offered my own, and he gave my knuckles a light kiss. “I wasn’t wearing a hat when I was sent down here, so in lieu of that...” He gracefully spun his hand from the top of his head in a low bow. “Philippe, Duke of Lierre. Léo’s big brother.” Philippe batted his hand at the air. “Of course, just ‘Philippe’ will do. As my dear brother has demonstrated in this grand game of the gods, titles and stations are all quite purposeless in the end.”

“You—you were first in line for the throne?” I murmured.

“Quite unfortunately.” He gestured behind him, where a lane of dark gravel led to topiaries of black and silver, including an archway made of leaves. “Come, I’ll introduce you to the others.”

The others. In the mirror I’d seen Françoise, and I had heard that this same fate had befallen Eglantine’s mother.... Who else was here? How many people had the king sacrificed? How many lives had he extinguished?

Beyond the archway, Philippe guided us through a massive garden. If the palace gardens were a loud declaration of the glory of the king, this was just its echo. Low hedges were carved into elaborate swirls. Fountains only trickled, with no figures atop them, just stones stacked into towers. Beds of flowers bloomed gray from stem to petal.