“I held her hand tight, and I wasn’t ever letting go,” Riella said. “But Lillibeth pulled away.”

Shuddering, Riella was lost in her nightmare. She could still feel her dead sister’s cold fingers. She could hear the crunch of her sister’s small bones as she pulled and pulled. It was never enough. The dream always ended the same. Lillibeth’s limbs stretched impossibly long. Bending in unnatural positions, Lillibeth raced from Riella’s grasp.

“Shush, my sweet moppet, your nanny has you,” Huni said.

Riella buried her teary face in her nanny’s warm shoulder. During the day amongst the court, Princess Riella wore a mask of indifference. The queen’s ladies whispered that Princess Riella was heartless. Only Huni, her old nanny, knew how she grieved her sister’s death right before Lillibeth’s marriage to King Wyck. Only her nanny collected her tears.

Huni dried Riella’s face with the edge of her own nightgown. Her nanny had been closer to Riella and Lillibeth than their mother, the queen. Next, she fluffed up the rumpled bedclothes. Riella sniffled and waited for her servant to fetch her a warm milk. Instead Huni pulled up a chair to the bedside and sat.

“Pink, blue, or yellow,” Huni said.

“What?”

“What color do you want the hat for your private pity party?” Huni said with arms folded.

Riella gasped. Her red-rimmed eyes turned accusative.

“Look, moppet, I’ve buried my heart many times. Women old before their time from work and husbands. Young mothers in childbirth. Babies too small for anyplace but heaven. I raised you and your sister and we both know she was murdered to stop this alliance. That sweet girl was a pawn, the first casualty of the war to come. Now what are we going to do about it?” Huni said. “Use that blade sharp mind, moppet.”

One young, one old, the two women stared at each other. Slowly Riella’s mind turned over Huni’s words. A map of the south lands stretched before her. The names of the key power changers in royal houses fell before her eyes like petals from a funeral bower. A small knock at Riella’s bedroom door startled her. It was Dancz, the kitchen undermaid, with strong tea and sandwiches. Riella raised an eyebrow.

“First step, I have to get father to think it was his idea to have me marry King Wyck,” Riella said.