Twelve To Rule

Miyran knew the suitor was following them. She was the youngest of the family, but it had long been recognized that she was also the smartest. It helped that as a child, one of her eyes had been lost to an angry magpie. When her father went to the King of Birds to complain, the old raven gifted him a glass eye and sent him on his way. Since then, Miyran’s right eye had seen what all others saw, while the left had seen what was truly there. An invisibility cloak was nothing against the Bird King’s magic.

Of course, that simply meant she knew there was a problem, not that she knew what to do about it. The fact that the suitor had made it thus far made him an anomaly. Most fell deep asleep after drinking the wine her eldest sister prepared, waking in the morning to the news of their imminent execution. He had only pretended to drink and pretended to sleep before slipping after them. That told her he was clever. The cloak told her he had powerful friends.

The woods whispered to her as they passed. Ever since the glass eye entered her life, she had also heard things that weren’t there. Soft voices called to her in the rustle of the branches. The dead, crying out to her for clemency. Poor fools trapped in their father’s impossible wager – find out where my daughter’s go at night and you may marry one. Fail, and I will have your head. They begged as they failed, one after the other. Tell us princess, save us. At least give us a lie he will believe. Please.

He never believed any of their lies. He demanded evidence.

Heads rolled.

The sisters had discussed giving in and letting one follow them, over and over again. The type of men who answered such a summons were hardly the type one wanted to be bound to for the rest of their life though. “Power or death” was a sorry ad for a husband. None were willing to take the necessary step of actually marrying one, or the risk that once one of them was married off it would simply continue until all were. And so they kept the men at bay, leaving them dozing on the bedroom floor as they slipped off on their nightly errand.

Some didn’t even make it that far. Some just wanted into the royal bedroom.

The eldest sister Esme killed those herself.

Miyran shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself. The smell of blood lingered in her nostrils. She took a deep breath of crisp winter air and forced it out. Esme had already reached the shore of the lake and was getting the boat ready for launch. In the distance, a giant castle rose out of the waves. Music drifted across the water. The other girls were babbling excitedly. This strange world in their closet was the only change they got to escape the room their father kept them in. It was a good escape though. Different as they all were, they shared a love for dancing.

The suitor did not risk clambering into the boat with them. He watched from the shore as they sailed slowly away. Miyran watched back, though she was careful to keep her gaze just to the side of him. When they were a few hundred feet out, he turned and began to return up the path they had come down. Miyran sighed. He had come further, but he had no proof. He would tell the story to the king in the morning, and be beheaded in spite of it. Next time she would make sure Esme was more careful with the sleeping aid.

A pang of guilt gnawed on her heart but she shoved it away and focused forwards towards the night’s festivities instead. Their twelve princes were already waiting for them in the dock. They were empty minded, nothing more than beautiful simulacrum. fake like the rest of this world. But at least they could dance, and demand nothing in return. One by one the princesses disembarked. The dance began.

***

The suitor was back the next night. The rules technically allowed for a suitor to spend three nights in investigation, but none had ever had the wits to use more than one. The king was as surprised as they were, but rules were the rules and so he allowed it.

This time Miyran watched closely as the suitor drank his wine and stretched out to sleep on his bedroll by the fire. Nora pinched him on the soft of the elbow, Bethany tickled his nose with a feather. No reaction. He seemed truly asleep this time.

The mood was jubilant as they dressed. Off came the nightgowns, on with layers of silk skirts and ribbons and velvet sashes. It had been years since the kingdom last had a ball – since the princess’s mother died. The elder girls could remember, but Miyran herself had never been. All their dresses were cobbled together from castaways and leftovers, hand sewn during the long days trapped in their room. Miyran’s was a light grey, the color of a dove. It swirled around her ankles as she moved and made her feel like she was floating.

The suitor was still out cold as they left. Still, Miyran found herself casting suspicious glances behind as they walked. Halfway to the boats they proved warranted. There he was, chasing quietly after them through the trees. How had he done it? He had certainly swallowed the wine this time. Perhaps his powerful friends had magicked him back awake. She glanced behind herself again. Curiosity tugged at her mind and she gave in.

“Elaine?” The eleventh sister turned to look back at her. “I want to go for a walk tonight. Just through the woods. I’ll meet you at the end of the night okay?” Elaine didn’t understand, but Miyran knew the others were used to thinking of her as the strange sister. True to expectation, she just nodded assent and continued on her way.

Miyran stopped and took a few steps to the side, pretending to examine one of the trees. Its leaves were the purest silver and jingled like bells as she reached up to touch one of the branches. The other trees were a mix, some gold, some crystal. A man could easily gather a fortune in leaves from the forest, but the instant he brought them out of this world they would crumble to dust. Nothing could cross back.

The suitor was just visible out of the corner of her eyes. He had stopped as well and was looking between her and the others. She would wait until they were already in the boat and gone, and then make her move. Even though it would soon vanish, she plucked a branch from the tree and took her time working it into the crown of pearls that circled her head. Finally the others were out on the water. She turned to look directly at the suitor.

To his credit, he had enough self-control not to jump. Even invisible, the sudden movement would have made a sudden noise, albeit a quiet one. Instead, he stayed as he was, stock still except for his breath gently jostling his plain shirt. Miyran addressed him cooly, “I can see you, you know.” He did not respond. Probably expecting it to be a fake-out. She continued, “You’re wearing a brown shirt, peasant’s cut. Dark grey pants, the bottom hem of the left one is unraveling slightly. Your eyes are widening with the realization that I am not, in fact, bluffing.”

A faint smile snapped across his lips at her last sarcastic comment. It darted for cover behind the polite mask he pulled down over his features. He bowed low to her and greeted, “Good evening, your majesty.”

She nodded curtly, “We will see about that. Come over here and lets talk. No sense yelling across the forest.”

He approached slowly, hands held out to the side awkwardly. Trying to prove he was unarmed while not making a fuss of it? Or perhaps just a fool. Ten feet away, he stopped. “Better, your majesty?”

She nodded again and surveilled him more closely. His black hair was cut in a short military cut and his arms were strong, but he did not carry himself with the discipline of a soldier. Maybe he could be a soldiers son, or maybe he just rejected his training and deliberately slouched. As she examined him, he was doing the same, green eyes sweeping up and down. She bit back a complaint about his rudeness – she was doing the same after all.

He seemed to know well enough not to start the conversation. She asked, “What is your name?”

“Peter, your majesty.”

“Peter…?”

“Just Peter. I don’t have family; they died when I was young. House fire.”

Her lips twisted involuntarily into a grimace. “Sorry. I lost my mother too.”

He nodded, “Yes, I know.”

Of course he did. There was little that happened in the palace that didn’t make it to the outside, either through the official announcements or the rumor mills. Had he really lost his parents, or was he just trying to find a sympathy card to play with her? It wouldn’t matter except that she had almost fallen for it.

She shook herself and moved on quickly, “Why are you here, Peter?”

He hesitated before answering. Probably trying to think up of a polite way to say ‘I wanted to marry a girl I never met on pain of possible death.’ Instead though, he slowly explained, “My friend, Frederick. He came before me. You might remember him – tall fellow, bright red hair, always smiling?”

He paused but she said nothing. The flood of suitors came and went so fast that few of them stuck in her memory.

He continued, “I told him it was a bad idea, but he didn’t listen. Once he got something in his head… Well, he came, he tried, he failed. And he… died.” He paused again, taking a deep breath to steady himself before finishing, “I didn’t want any others to die like he did. So I prepared, and now… here I am.”

She bit her lip until the tang of blood filled her mouth. None of them liked to think of the family and friends that their father’s murderous obsession left behind. It was hard not to when one of those poor people was right in front of them. Maybe giving in and marrying one of them would have been the right thing to do.

Or, Whispered the treacherous voice deep in her heart, Or, he is just trying to make you feel guilt and you are falling for it like an ignorant fool.

Miyran steeled her nerves again and pushed forward with the conversation, “And you have a mage friend? Or are you a mage yourself?”

“My dad saved a mage, during the war. After he died, the mage came and offered to help me. She knew of this castle, and of your hidden land, and told me what to do in exchange for the life-debt she owed my dad.”

Miyran frowned and asked cautiously, “What to do?”

“Yes. How to close the hidden land. It’s just an illusion, though a very, very good one-”
She cut across him, “Close it? How can you close it! It’s all we have!”

He crossed his arms, eyes narrowed. “No offense, your majesty, but I would much rather people have their lives than you have your playground.”

Her voice shook as she took a step forwards towards him, “It’s not a playground! This is the only place I have ever been other than our room! It is my home!”

He stared at her. What was that in his eyes? Contempt? Anger? Finally he just shrugged and answered, “I’m sorry then. But I have to do it. Maybe you can go outside in the real world. The trees are only made of wood, and there are quite a few more bugs, but it is still pretty nice.”

Desperately she pointed out, “If you break our world, you’ll have no way to get proof. He’ll kill you too.”

He shook his head. “There’s no way to get proof out of here, you know that as well as I. Anything crossing the boarder vanishes into wisps of dust. But, I think you not going out tomorrow night will be proof enough that I solved his issue.”

“How…”

“I am not telling you how, your majesty, I can’t risk you trying to undo it. I will warn you though – don’t try to stay past your usual time. You’ll be turned to dust with the rest of it.”

She stared at him. An eternity locked in their bedroom sounded even worse than one tied to an unwanted husband. He was at least a little smarter than the others, maybe he wouldn’t be too bad? She offered, “What if we make a deal. You fix… whatever you did, so this world stays. And in exchange, I’ll marry you. Deal?”

He let our a sharp bark of laughter. “I could not have less interest in marrying you. You and your sisters killed my best friend.”

“We did not! Our father did!”

“Oh get off your high horse. You drug them as soon as they come in; they don’t even have a chance to prove themselves. You’re just as bad as he is.”

She crossed her arms and snapped back, “And what were we supposed to do? Marry random strangers to appease him and damn the consequences? Maybe your friend was fine, but most of you haven’t exactly been the loving spouse types.”

He scowled and hissed through gritted teeth, “I am not one of them. As I said, I have no interest in anything other than stopping you and your psychotic father from killing any more men.”

“The men can stop themselves from getting killed! All they have to do is leave us alone. Nobody is forcing them to go to the palace, they’re doing it of their own free will. If they just stop being such idiots we wouldn’t have this problem!”

He glared at her. She glared back. Finally he said softly, “Maybe they come of their own free will, but that doesn’t mean their not forced to it. Marrying one of you means wealth, comfort. If you’re starving on the street and getting desperate, then hope can be a powerful bait.”

She rolled her eyes. “Half of them are merchants by the looks of their clothes, and as for the others, they can just get a job.”

His eyes narrowed. “You really have no idea what it is like out there do you.”

She threw her arms to the side in exasperation. “No! That is what I am trying to get through your thick skull. This is our home. We don’t get to leave the bedroom. This is the closest to an outside that I have seen in my entire life. And you’re going to destroy it because people don’t take a death threat seriously enough to avoid walking on the clearly marked trap!”

She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. Wheels were turning in his head, but what towards she had no idea. He no longer looked angry at least, but the cold calculation was almost worst. Finally he said slowly, “I will offer you a deal. A counter-deal. I’ll leave this world alone, for now. But you will come with me tomorrow out into the world. The king will send a guard with me if I leave the palace, so you’ll have to stay quiet and hidden under the cloak. But you can see it for yourself, and maybe then you’ll understand.”

“And then? What happens after that?”

He shook his head. “I am still working on it. Let me think about it okay?”

“I am not particularly a fan of putting much faith in you. Offense definitely intended.”

He shrugged. “What choice do you have? If you would rather, I’ll just dust this world tonight?”

She most certainly did not want that, and he knew it.

He jerked his head towards the beach. “Go stand over there and I’ll disable it. If you try to follow me though, I’ll set it off. So behave.”

His instructions grated on her, but she obeyed. He vanished into the woods. She was tempted to follow him, but it wasn’t worth the risk. Instead she waited antsily. Finally he emerged from a different patch of forest and returned to her.

“Alright, that’s taken care of. Now then, here’s my cloak.” He undid the brooch at his neck and slid it off his shoulders to offer to her. Even in her magic eye, the fabric was nearly invisible. It was like looking at woven water. Light distorted slightly as it passed through, but the fabric itself had no discernible color. She took it from him carefully. It was rougher and heavier than she had expected, more like coarse-spun wool than the silks she was used to.

He explained, “It’ll only make you invisible if you shut the clasp, though it itself seems to just always been invisible. You can use it to sneak out right after me when the guard comes in the morning, and then follow me outside of the walls. Nobody can hear you, or we’re both in trouble. Understand?”

She nodded. “I will have to tell my sisters I’m leaving. They will panic if I don’t.”

He shrugged. “It’s your head, protect it however you see fit. Now then, I’m going to go back into the room and get some rest. I’d explain to your sisters out here if I was you. They would have caught you years ago if the walls had ears, but there’s still no such thing as too much caution.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and strode back up the path towards the stone wall that held their door home. Once he was through and had vanished, she let out a long breath. How was she going to explain this without panicking the others? Perhaps it would be easiest to just tell Esme. But what if she wanted to take her place? It would be reasonable – Esme was stronger, smarter, older – but despite her dislike for her escort, Miyran wanted nothing more than to see the outside. Maybe Elaine then. She was only a year older, and quite used to explaining Miyran’s shenanigans to the others.

Decided, she sat down on the bank and stared out across the water. It was a pity they only had the one boat. She could spend the rest of the evening forgetting her worry by dancing in the arms of her prince if only she had a way to get there. Instead she lay back on the cold grass and stared at the leaves overhead. This tree was one of crystal, sparkling and shimmering as it rustled in the winds. There was no need for sleep here – it was part of the magic of this world – but she let her thoughts wander pleasantly as she waited out the night.

***

True to Miyran’s expectations, Elaine had accepted but not understood when Miyran said she would be vanishing after breakfast. She did not ask any questions though – another good reason to tell Elaine and not one of the others.

Peter ate with them at their long table, sitting on a stool stolen from Nataline’s dresser. He was silent, and stayed silent when the guard knocked on the door. Miyran followed as he slipped away politely from the table. The others were still eating and did not react to her departure. Twelve sisters meant there was always something going on to divert attention, and she was glad for it.

Halfway across the room she dropped the cloak across her shoulders, flipped the hood up, and fastened the brooch. She was right on his heels as the door opened. The guard stood aside to let him pass and she slipped through quickly after him.

The most she had ever seen of this hallway was the small sliver visible through the open door. In person, it was far grander than she had imagined. The ceiling was a full twelve feet and arched like a cathedral. Chandeliers dangling from gold chains lit the corridor. The crystals dripping from their tiers cast moving patterns as they gently swayed in an imperceptible breeze.

They did not stay in the hall for long, soon turning into another, equally grand, passageway. From there she lost track of their path. Unlike the forest, everything looked the same here. There were no windows, no way to tell direction other than counting left and right. She was already putting a lot of trust in Peter; she would just have to trust him to lead her back in the end as well.

After a few minutes of walking, they entered an even larger hallway. Or was this one a room? It was relatively narrow compared to its length, but it was still unspeakably large. Thick red carpet muffled their steps as the approached the far end. Watchful statues seemed to follow her with their gaze, seeing her as the people could not. The row all wore crowns. Past monarchs then. Few looked particularly friendly.

Their destination was a throne. The man sitting in it seemed an afterthought. Carvings draped with velvet and jewels towered over him, dwarfing him even though he was by no means a small man. He was tall, and could once have been handsome before years of excess inflated his features. Miyran examined the puffy face closely, searching for any trace of herself or her sisters in it. She found none, and felt no feeling of kinship with this man she could not remember ever meeting.

Their guard peeled off to one side discretely and they walked the last few steps alone. To her surprise, Peter went down on one knee and bowed his head before the king. “Your majesty, good morning.”

The king’s voice was wheezy but forceful, “What have you found? Nothing, right boy?”

His eyes shone brightly. He seemed almost excited at the prospect of Peter’s failure. Peter continued calmly, “I think I may have something, your majesty, but I am not positive yet. I have come seeking permission to journey into town and consult with a friend of mine.”

The king squinted at him with suspicion. “This is the worst escape ploy I have heard, and I have heard many. I should get the executioner to chop your head off now and not let you waste any more of my time.”

“I assure you my intentions are honest, your majesty. Your daughters are lovely, I must come back to them. And of course, I would travel with a guard detail of your choosing.”

For a moment, the king just stared contemplatively down at Peter. Finally he nodded. “Alright, if you are so desperate.” He snapped his pudgy fingers wetly and the guard hastened over. “Guard, get Captain Woolbright to deal with this man. He is allowed to go into the city, but he will be chained and well watched.”

The guard bowed low. Peter rose from his knee and bowed as well. “Thank you, your majesty. I will have results for you tomorrow.”

The king waved them away irritably and with one final bow from Peter, they followed the guard out of the room. The captain he led them to seemed irritated to have to deal with them, but she quickly pulled together a squad regardless and fifteen minutes later, the castle gates opened in front of Miyran for the first time.

She was not sure what she had expected. Certainly nothing as grand as her woods. But perhaps something like the cottages shown in her books: small, neat thatched roofs, pretty flowers in the windows. Instead there was filth.

The streets were littered with mud and, by the smell of it, much worse. Yet children still played in them, the fetid spray clinging to their rags as they raced after a tattered ball. The adults did not avoid it either – but then again, how could they when it covered everything? Peter began to walk forward and she kept close behind him, trying to step in his foot prints and avoid as much of the mess as possible. She would have to throw these clothes out when she returned or the stench would surely give her away. How had she never noticed it on the suitors? Did the king clean them before sending them to his daughters? She would never have expected to be grateful to the nasty man on the throne, but felt a twinge of it nonetheless.

The houses they passed were hardly better than the streets. There was no glass in the windows, and many of the shutters hung crooked in their brackets or were missing. Thatch dripping with mold clung to the roofs. Other than the bright blue sky, no color broke the dull world of greys and browns.

That just made the carriage stand out all the more. It was painted blue and gold, the royal colors. A man in a neat velvet suit of matching colors stood before it, flanked by four guards. They were all looking at an old woman kneeling in the street. Tears ran down her face. Peter and their entourage did not slow, but Miyran found herself drawing to a stop to watch.

The woman sounded desperate as she pleaded, “Please sir, I have no more. I spent the last on bread for my children. Please, we’re just trying to survive.”

The man sighed. “We both know that is no excuse. Everyone must do their part to provide for the kingdom. I’m sure we can come to an accord though. How old is your eldest boy?”

She looked like there was nothing she dreaded more than answering. One of the guard’s hands drifted towards the hilt of his sword and she flinched before quickly spilling out, “Thirteen sir. He is apprenticed to the baker.”

A curt nod, and a motion to one of the guards who immediately peeled off to head down the street. “Good. We can make use of him in the castle I am sure. Be on time next month. Remember, taxes are for everyone.”

The man spun on his heel and clambered back into the carriage as the woman stared numbly after him. She remained in the street long after the rumble of the wheels had faded into the distance. It took all of Miyran’s strength not to approach and comfort her. Revealing herself would draw too much attention. Even if she managed not to give away the cloak by ducking into an alley to untie it, she would be completely out of place with her bright green dress. She felt a surge of revulsion as she felt the silk rub against her arms. So this was how it was paid for. She stood silent vigil until finally the woman struggled to her feet and left, head low.

Peter and the others were long gone. Miyran was not lost though, not really. The castle looming over the town made an excellent landmark. With nowhere else to go, she let her feet wander for a while, weaving between people and taking it all in. The farther she got into the city, the worse it seemed to get. In the space of a half hour, she overheard and saw more tales of misfortune and woe than in her whole life of listening to Lydia reading horror stories aloud.

She became desperate for something to break the monotony of gray lives and gray town. When she saw a flash of color out of the corner of her eye, she turned down a side street to follow it. After navigating between some makeshift homes tucked against the walls of the alley, she got close enough to make it out. A statue, far larger than life, of the king. The bottom was smeared with mud as high as a person could reach, but the top was clean other than a few bird poops and gleamed with enameled blue and gold. Miyran stopped to stare it at and think.

The rain would wash the base clean fairly regularly. People must be applying – she shuddered at the thought of picking up some of the waste on the ground – people must be applying it regularly. She cast her eyes around the squalid square and then back up to the statue. It was all his fault. He had failed as a father, that much she had known her whole life. But here was evidence, in the form of a whole town, that he had failed as a king as well. Father, king, both were about protecting people and it was clear he had no interest doing either job.

She turned away and started walking slowly back to the castle. What could she do about it though? The cruel fact of the matter was that he was king and father. Changing the chances of birth was not within her power. Maybe a powerful witch could do it, but in all the stories she had heard, dealing with witches lead to its own problems.

Her steps took her past a dismal cemetery and she paused to look at the stones as an awful, horrible idea popped into her head.

Yes, she could not change the past, but she could change the present in such a way as to save both her sisters and this city. Dare she do it? Something in her heart wanted the answer to be no. Better to be powerless than to be like him. Dismay and relief filled her as she realized that yes, she was capable. She just had to figure out method.

She had picked up enough from watching Esme to know poisons were difficult. They needed to be calibrated precisely to body mass – too little and nothing happened. Of course, she could also just use too much, but the bigger issue was that she had no idea where to even get poison. If she went back to their room there was a chance she wouldn’t be able to sneak out again, so getting help was out of the question.

More conventional means then. The town was hardly empty of weapons and a few blocks later she spotted a dagger and quickly filched it while its owner took a deep draught of beer. She memorized his face as best he could and the bar’s name. Hopefully she could pay him back after this was over. How much was a dagger even worth? She would have to ask; never before had she needed to think of money.

When she reached the castle, the main gates were shut but a trickle of traffic was flowing through the side door under the watchful gaze of a guard. Knowing her intentions were hardly innocent anymore made her even more nervous as she skirted past him. She need not have worried though; the cloak had been working fine all day and it did not quit on her now.

It was just starting to get dark. In a way, that was ideal. If the king was asleep, it would be much easier than if she had to deal with a moving target. The only issue was that she had no clue where he was, or where anything was in this giant maze of a castle. Finding him could take many days of wandering. By then it would be too late for Peter, or for her sisters, or for both.

Luck was on her side however. As she contemplated how to start searching, the drawbridge fell behind her with a heavy thunk and Peter’s little party came back through. Miyran smiled with relief and fell into step behind them. They threaded through the corridors before stopping before a door. The guards opened it and Miyran’s heart fell as she realized it was just the door to the Princess’s room. Of course it was, what did she expect, him to report to the king?

Peter stepped through and the door swung shut behind him. The guards split up. Three began to wander off, chatting casually about supper. The fourth strode in the opposite direction, moving more quickly. With nothing better to do, Miyran followed. Perhaps it was silly to expect Peter to return to the king, but maybe this guard would? Surely the king did want to know what Peter had gotten up to in town?

Several turns later, luck showed its head again and they entered the vast throne room. The guard gave a bland report to the king – Peter had gone into town, chatted innocuously with a few people on the street, bought some candy, and eaten it in the park – before he bowed and took his leave. Shortly thereafter, the king rose to his feet with a yawn.

Attendants stepped out of the shadows and buzzed around him as he walked slowly to a grand bedroom. His royal robes vanished down to the light blue long underwear underneath and were replaced with silk pajamas. Before he even reached the bed, the servants had turned back the covers. He fell onto the mattress and closed his eyes. Silently they all slipped out of the room, leaving a solitary lamp burning on the bedside table.

His snores cut through the quiet. Had he really fallen asleep that quickly? Best to wait a few minutes to make sure. After half an hour she slipped to the side of the bed. The knife tip wove back and forth as her hands shook. She set it to the side and squeezed her palms together to steady herself. When she picked the blade up again, it was still and controlled. She lined it up and with one last deep breath, drove it home.

He died quietly. The rasping gurgle of breath cut off, and then stillness. Blood seeped into the mattress around him. In a corner of Miyran’s mind, someone was screaming. The rest of her just felt… nothing. Not even calm, just blank emptiness. She watched her hands as they broke the stained chain that held the Princess’ bedroom key around his neck. Her feet took her back to the door, somehow knowing the way better than she did herself. She turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open.

As expected, the room was empty. She could slip in after them and pretend she had spent the day in the forest. Peter would know the truth, but it hardly mattered. If he was so indiscreet as to bring it up, she could just say she got lost on the way back. It wasn’t even entirely a lie.

She quickly changed into clean clothes and bundled the others together before stuffing them down the narrow chute that served as privy and trash. For a moment she considered tossing the knife down as well before deciding it needed a more private disposal. The cloak she hid inside her duvet cover, and then she straightened her hair and composed herself before entering the forest.

Her feet crunched the precious leaves as she walked down the path to the shore. At the edge of the water, she pulled out the knife. Tiny waves sent up sparkles of light as they lapped against the snow-dusted grass. Esme’s face floated before her eyes and for a brief moment, she could see the family resemblance in the king’s smile. Instead of throwing the dagger into the lake, she carefully washed the blade clean and then hid it in her stocking.

Hopefully she would never need it again. And if she did, well. There were eleven more princesses. Eventually her kingdom would have a fit ruler.

She would make sure of it.