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The empress will still be at the ball, but the guards stationed outside her bedchamber are a permanent fixture, though one anticipates. She expected two, but as she approaches, she realizes there are four, which gives her a half second’s pause before she pushes on with her plan. When the guards see her, she offers them a wide smile.

“Your Highness,” the guards say, speaking at the same time with cursory bows.

“Hello,” she says brightly. “I have a favor to ask of you—I want to buy my mother a bottle of perfume before my husband and I depart for Cellaria, to thank her for all of her help, but…oh, it’s so silly—I’m worried I won’t get her the right one. Might I pop in to see what scents she likes so I can shop accordingly? It will only take a moment.”

The guards exchange a perplexed look before one clears his throat.

“Let me inquire whether she’s receiving visitors, Your Highness,” he says before ducking into the room.

struggles to hold on to her sunny expression, even as her mind whirls in panic. What is her mother doing here? She should still be at the ball. This could ruin everything.

The guard reappears a few seconds later. “She’ll see you,” he tells before ushering her into her mother’s chambers.

makes her way through the parlor and into the bedroom to find her mother standing beside the bed while a maid laces her into a ball gown, which deepens ’s confusion.

“Darling,” the empress says to , with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Your husband said you were indisposed.”

“Oh, I’m feeling a bit better now, though I fear any dancing might upset my stomach, so I didn’t think it wise for me to attend the ball—and speaking of which, why aren’t you there?”

The empress snorts. “The oafish Baron of Gleen spilled red wine all over me when he bowed,” she says. “I was forced to come and change into something clean.”

The maid ties the empress’s laces in a neat bow and Margaraux dismisses her with a nod. The maid slips out of the room, leaving alone with her mother.

“So,” the empress says. “You fed the guards some lie about buying me perfume?”

is a good liar, she knows this, but lying to her mother requires expert skills, and a single wrong step could doom not only her but Pasquale and Ambrose as well. affects a guilty smile.

“Well, I doubt they would have let even me examine your jewels, but it seemed a safe bet that your guards knew little about purchasing perfume.”

“And you hoped they would simply let you in to snoop?” the empress asks.

The key to lying, knows, is showing the target of your lies exactly what they wish to see, and the empress has always seen as a thorn in her side. It’s an easy enough role for to play.

“Oh, with enough charm and the right amount of flirtation, we both know they would have,” tells her. “All my training would have been put to use, I assure you.”

The empress narrows her eyes. “And what were you looking for?”

The empress believes to be a rash and impulsive girl ruled by her emotions and prone to foolishness. She can use that against her now.

bites her lip and glances away. “I was hoping to find the real letter King Nicolo sent you,” she says. In truth, whatever Nicolo said to her mother is low on her list of things to worry about, but she hopes it will be a believable lie.

The empress says nothing, doesn’t even deny that the letter she gave was false. “How did you figure it out?”

can’t tell her mother the truth, so she shrugs again. “Unfortunately, I know Nicolo too well for that.”

“You thought he would wax poetic about how in love he is with you?” the empress asks, her voice mocking.

“No,” says with a laugh. “But his lack of concern over his sister gave it away, if you must know.”

The empress seems to accept that. “And what makes you think I would keep it here, rather than in my office?”

“What makes you think I didn’t look there first?” counters.

A flicker of doubt crosses her mother’s face, but it’s gone before is certain it was ever there at all. “Why must you be so difficult, ?” the empress asks, all pretense of friendliness disappearing and leaving only exhaustion behind. How many times has ’s mother called her difficult? There were times when it felt like a failing on ’s part, but now she understands just what is difficult about her. She’s difficult to handle, difficult to control, difficult to manipulate. If hadn’t been so difficult when she decided to rescue Lord Savelle, her mother’s plan would have succeeded and she’d be dead.

Being difficult is what’s kept alive.

“Your sisters know better than to fight me every step of the way,” the empress continues.

Some part of wonders if her mother is trying to goad her, to make her snap. But the larger part of her doesn’t care. After everything that’s happened today, she doesn’t have it in her to resist her mother’s bait.

“Yes, that worked out awfully well for Sophronia, didn’t it?” she says.

But perhaps it isn’t bait at all, because if the empress was hoping to make snap, she wouldn’t look like just slapped her.

“How dare you,” the empress says, her voice dangerously low as she closes the distance between her and with small, measured steps. “The lengths I went to in order to bring you and your sisters into this world, the education and training I instilled in you, the upbringing any girl in the world would kill for, and you are so ungrateful that you would blame me because Sophronia was a fool?”

“Sophie wasn’t a fool,” says, holding her ground.

“She was, and so are you. If you weren’t, you would be on Cellaria’s throne right now instead of skulking around my bedchamber like a common thief,” the empress says. She holds ’s gaze a second longer before turning away and walking toward the cabinet beside her bed. She takes a key from a chain around her neck and opens the lock, rifling through the contents of the drawer before pulling out a piece of paper. “You want to know what Nicolo’s letter truly says?” she asks.

Suddenly, thinks that’s the last thing she wants to know. Whatever it is, it won’t be good. It doesn’t matter, she tells herself. She’ll be gone tonight, headed to Friv, and none of it will matter. Before she can answer, her mother continues.

“He did express concern over his sister, even offered quite a sum for her safe return, but I found it far more interesting to read what he had to say to you about a certain offer he made the last time you spoke. An offer you didn’t mention to me.”

lifts her chin. She has nothing to lose now. If her mother has known that for the last week and hasn’t had Pasquale killed, that won’t change in the next hour. After that, it will be too late.

“He wanted to marry me,” she says, shrugging. “It seemed a moot point, given that I have a husband.”

“But accidents do happen,” the empress says. “Especially to disgraced heirs living in exile.”

’s stomach twists at the threat against Pasquale, but she’s careful not to show her mother that reaction. “And yet my husband seems immune to them.”

“Of course he is, under my roof,” the empress says. “It would be quite mortifying if I couldn’t ensure the protection of my guests, wouldn’t it? But you and your husband will be leaving for Cellaria tomorrow, if I have to have you dragged out of this palace by an army. Am I clear?”

stares at her mother—not quite shocked, but horrified all the same. It doesn’t matter that her mother’s plan will never happen. Knowing this was what she intended, knowing how much of a threat she poses to Pasquale, hearing how coldly her mother can discuss this plot, makes her feel ill. Did she discuss Sophronia’s death the same way?

“I hate you,” says.

The empress only laughs. “Find a new refrain, ,” she says, tossing Nicolo’s letter into the fireplace and crossing toward the door. “You’ve been singing that one practically since you learned how to speak and it’s growing tiresome.”

She starts toward the door, stopping abruptly in front of . “You have two minutes to pull yourself together, . It won’t do for the guards to see you so worked up, but if you take any longer they’ll drag you back to your room and make sure you stay there. Besides, I’d recommend you get some beauty sleep, my dove. You’ll want to look your best when you’re reunited with King Nicolo.” She reaches up to give a pat on the cheek that struggles not to flinch away from and then she’s gone, leaving alone.

—

doesn’t doubt that her mother is serious about the guards removing her by force in two minutes’ time, so she hurries with the rest of her plan, her hands shaking as she searches her mother’s vanity, opening drawers and searching for anything out of the ordinary, but all of the cosmetics appear to be just that. Next, she searches the armoire, and when she finds the loose board at the bottom, she smiles, lifting it up and reaching inside. She withdraws a small enamel box painted blue and gold. Inside, she finds several unlabeled vials of various liquids and powders and one ring she recognizes right away—the same one the empress gave and her sisters for their fifteenth birthday. One fitted with a hidden needle and a hollowed-out emerald filled with poison designed to knock a person unconscious.

slips the ring onto her finger. She glances at the tall clock in the corner and hurries to her feet—her two minutes are nearly up.

Moving through her mother’s sitting room, reaches the door and opens it, facing the guards with her bright smile back in place. Only two guards remain, one on either side of the door. The other two must have accompanied her mother back to the ball.

“Ah, there you are, Your Highness,” one says. “Her Majesty instructed me to escort you back to your room.”

“I’m sure she did,” she says, laying her hand on his arm just long enough that the needle of the poison ring pierces his skin.

“What—” he starts, but gives him no time to finish, spinning away from him and grabbing the other guard’s arm, catching him by surprise. In just seconds, both slump to the floor, their swords clattering on the marble.

A moment later, quiet footsteps sound down the hallway, growing louder. recognizes Pasquale’s steps before she sees him—the quiet rhythm she didn’t even know she had memorized—along with two others. When he comes into sight, Ambrose and Gisella just behind him, all three dressed in servants’ clothes, tilts her head.

“Pasquale is more noble than I am,” she tells Gisella as she ushers them inside the room. “I’d have let you rot.”

Gisella looks unruffled by the comment, but Pasquale gives her a beseeching look.

“She’s family,” Pasquale says, glancing at the guards as he passes them. “Are they…”

“Unconscious,” assures him. “Come on, it’s only a matter of time before someone notices two prisoners missing. You had no trouble using the stardust?”

“None,” Pasquale tells her. “Just as you said—two wishes to open their cells, a third to assist us in getting past the guards without detection.”

nods, leading the three of them to the tall clock in the corner and following the instructions Sister Heloise gave her. She opens the glass covering the clock face and turns the minute hand three times counterclockwise, then the hour hand twice in the same direction, and the second hand eight times the other way. A click sounds in the otherwise silent room and the front panel of the clock’s body pops open, creating a passage just large enough for a person to fit through. “Candles,” she says over her shoulder, and Ambrose and Gisella take the candles from her mother’s bedside tables, lighting them in the low-burning fireplace. Ambrose hands one to , who leads the way into the passage.

“It’s going to be a long walk,” she says as she steps into the passage.