His arms around me were strong, and his lips warm, and if I thought his thumb on my back the night before ignited a fire, it was nothing to the inferno that immediately sprang to life inside me. I wasn’t entirely sure what emotions were fueling it, but it was stronger than any I had previously felt.

And I didn’t intend to waste it.

Ripping myself from his grasp, I turned and thrust both hands toward the pile of rocks, imagining them as giant battering rams that could sweep the rocks away. A hot wind burst from my palms, whipping around me and nearly sending Oliver to the ground, although I remained steady, my skirts merely twining around my legs.

The gale hit the stones with terrible force, and they exploded outward away from us. A second loud rumbling, like the one that had accompanied the initial cave in, rang around us, settling slowly into the gentle patter of stones.

Dust filled the air, and I waved my hands in front of my face and coughed. As it settled, I drew a deep gasping breath. Rocks still lay scattered all around, but a clear path now showed, leading through to a further stretch of tunnel, and undoubtedly the main passage beyond.

I drew a second breath before spinning around and slapping Oliver hard across the cheek. He made no move to defend himself, merely grinning down at me.

“Sorry about that. Or, well…” He gestured at the cleared stones. “Maybe not so sorry?”

I glared at him. “What did you think you were doing?”

In truth I was too grateful it had worked to be really angry. But my dignity required I at least make a show of it.

“Well, I figured you were already feeling as much fear as you could, given the circumstances. And it didn’t seem to be enough.” He leaned in slightly and lowered his voice. “And I remembered that little breeze at the banquet.”

I bit my lip. So he had remembered that, after all. Thankfully he said nothing more about it, merely straightening, his eyes still laughing down at me.

“I figured it was worth a try. And that it couldn’t really lose. If I had it wrong, then anger and shock might do the trick just as well.”

He looked at me expectantly, as if waiting for me to tell him which emotion had fueled the burst of power, but I merely turned and stalked off. As I picked my way over the rocks, he scrambled to collect the lantern and follow.

Nothing would have made me reward him with an exposition on my feelings, but the truth was that I didn’t know which emotion it had been myself. Well, other than shock. That one had certainly been there.

When we made it to the intersection with the original tunnel, Oliver stopped to examine the markings on the one we had just exited.

“They did a good job of changing them.”

“Nothing about this was the work of a moment,” I said grimly. “But then we’re dealing with someone with the power to enchant an entire kingdom. I guess we shouldn’t be surprised.”

His shoulders slumped a little. “No, I suppose not.” He looked over at me. “I say we get back to the palace before anything else disastrous happens.”

“No arguments from me.” I eyed him. “Assuming you can remember the way, of course.”

“I’m leading us straight to an exit tunnel,” he assured me. “We can go the rest of the way outside.”

I tried not to let the relief show on my face. I had had more than enough of these tunnels for one day. Or one lifetime, more like.

We only walked a short distance before Oliver stopped at a large wooden door and pulled it open. I followed him into a large store full of pottery. He nodded a polite greeting to the storekeeper but led me straight outside.

I drew in a deep breath of fresh air and held my face up to the remaining rays of the sun. It looked like we had lost most of the day in there, and my stomach rumbled as if just noticing the passage of time.

“Come on,” said Oliver. “Let’s get back. I don’t want to miss dinner as well.”

In the light of day I could see that dust and dirt covered us both. And somewhere along the way I seemed to have ripped my skirt. I sighed. Another one ruined. At this rate I’d have no wardrobe left soon.

I was becoming familiar enough with the detachment of the locals that I wasn’t in the least surprised when we wandered into the entrance hall in such a bedraggled state and received no response from anyone. Oliver, however, was still new to it all. At least from this side of it, anyway. He looked around and actually shivered a little as he watched the blank and uninterested face of a passing servant.

“It’s almost creepy,” he said.

“Welcome to my world.” I shook my head. “Just wait until you get the same reaction to being abducted.”

He sucked in a breath. “Poor Emmeline and Giselle. They’re not like that normally, I swear. Well…” He chuckled, looking every inch the older brother—a look I knew all too well. “Emmeline is a little like that. Far too sensible and serious for her age. But Giselle…” He shook his head. “I wish you could properly meet her.”

“And I shall once we work out how to defeat this thing—whatever it is.” I tried to inject more confidence into my voice than I really felt.

Oliver met my gaze, and then his eyes fell to my hands. “You know I actually think we might have a chance. Now that we have you on our side.” His warm smile reminded me forcibly of the feel of his lips against mine, and I clamped down without thought on a flicker of warmth in my middle. To my surprise it went out instantly.

A slow smile spread across my face. Maybe I was actually getting the hang of this thing. I remembered the power that had brushed aside a cave in. Maybe he was right. Maybe we did have a chance.

* * *

The next day I was eager to try out my powers again, but I had no idea how—or where—to start. And when Emmeline and Giselle turned up to my rooms to invite me to spend the day with them, I couldn’t think of a reason to refuse.

As the day crawled by in their uninteresting company, I wished I had been quicker with an excuse. I kept thinking of what Oliver had said about them. How different this would be if they were their true selves. I tried to see hints of it in their words or actions, but the honest truth was that I could barely distinguish between them.

Emmeline, at seventeen, was quite a bit taller than her fifteen-year-old sister. And although their fair coloring was identical, their features were different enough. And yet their manner made them almost into twins.

They gave me a never-ending tour of the palace, the highlight of which was a delicious midday meal, served in a small but elegant dining room. I had hoped Oliver would join us—so I could have some real conversation if nothing else—but I saw no sign of him all day.

I hoped I would be able to escape in the afternoon, but it seemed that we had seen only half the palace before lunch. I sighed and trailed after them again. At least life as a princess had given me some experience with surviving boring days full of unavoidable responsibilities. Even as the youngest of seven, I had been required to attend a myriad of official functions. And the number of them had only increased as more and more of my older siblings had married and moved out of Lanover.

I thought a little wistfully of the years I spent running through my own palace with the two sisters directly above me—Cordelia and Celeste. We had been good friends before they both married and moved to Northhelm. I examined Emmeline and Giselle from the back. Did they have the potential to be equally good friends? Once they were freed, of course.

The thought brought another puzzle to my mind. That first gale I had produced had shaken something loose in Oliver, even if it hadn’t completely freed him. But no one else seemed to have been affected by it. Why?

I pondered the question, not listening to Emmeline’s drone as she conducted the tour, until I looked around and realized we were in a display room of some kind. I turned my attention back to her words in time to hear this was where the Eldonian royal family both stored and displayed their most valued treasures.

I wandered around the room with interest, examining several crowns, and an intricate golden scepter. Two of the small pedestals held ordinary-looking objects, protected under glass domes. One was a simple slipper, and another a wooden flagon, interesting only for the simple carvings that decorated it.

The pedestals and domes reminded me instantly of the empty one I had seen next to the portrait on my first day. Seeing the same display case here only confirmed my impression that the dome was meant to hold something.

At my questioning look, Emmeline explained that they were ancient godmother artifacts. “Their enchantment is long gone,” she said. “But they hold great value to us still as relics of the past.”

Was there an object missing from the pedestal in the corridor then? I was about to ask Emmeline about it, when another thought flashed through my mind, distracting me. Something Sophie had told me before her wedding. I looked around the room, scanning the walls.

“Where is your royal mirror? I would love to see it.”

A soft sigh sounded from Giselle, and I focused my attention on her. She met my eyes, and her own reflected sadness. The sign of an emotion—any emotion—made me cross closer to her, curious.

“As would I,” she said. “But it was lost many years ago. When I was just a small child.”

“Lost? How can such an object be lost?”

Sophie had explained to me that all of these kingdoms possessed an enchanted mirror. It had been gifted to each of the monarchs by the godmothers too many years ago to count and had been passed down from generation to generation. It allowed each royal family to see and hear events happening far from them. They could either watch over their own people or use it to communicate with the royal mirrors in other kingdoms.

I knew the Palinaran royal mirror had been limited in its functions by the curse, and I had suspected the same of the Eldonian one—or the king would have used it to find his children. But I hadn’t expected to hear he didn’t have it at all. Sophie had described it as a large, wall-mounted mirror, and it didn’t seem like the kind of thing that was prone to being lost.

Giselle seemed confused—trying to remember what had happened, or perhaps trying to remember why she cared. I moved even closer, fascinated by the signs of struggle within her. She looked up at me, her gaze so lost and confused that I couldn’t help the surge of compassion that filled me.

“Celine…” Her voice was soft. “I can’t…” She shook her head and tried again. “I can’t…”

I closed the remaining distance between us and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Try Giselle! Try to remember.” I wanted so desperately to really meet her—this friend who might be.

And though the feelings were gentler this time, they were no less strong. A surge ran up my arm and through my hand into her shoulder. She reeled, almost falling, as a bright illumination lit her from within. For a moment she looked as if she would take flight, her whole body rising from the ground, but then the light was gone, and she gasped and crumpled in on herself.

I caught her beneath one arm, steadying her as she gazed wide-eyed at me and then around the room. Her gaze lingered on her sister, examining a painting on the far side of the room and apparently oblivious to what had just happened, before turning back to me.

“Celine!” She stopped to take several more gasping breaths before righting herself and moving away from me. “Celine! What just happened?”

As much as the whole thing had taken me by surprise, I was at least slightly more prepared than I had been with Oliver.

“It’s a long story. But the short version is that you’ve been under some sort of enchantment. Maybe. We think. And that the godmothers seem to have given me some sort of power to break it. Sometimes.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out then.” Her sardonic tone took me so much by surprise that I laughed out loud.

“It’s nice to meet you, Giselle. I have the feeling that I really haven’t met you before.”

“Really? I seem to remember something about a Princess Tourney. It’s all strangely hazy, though.” She turned to me with wide eyes. “Did I fall down a very deep hole?”

I grimaced. “Yes. But that is definitely a story for another day.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You said we earlier. Who else have you freed?”

I nodded. She was sharp. “Only Oliver, I’m afraid.”

She looked back at her sister. “Can you free Emmeline as well? You could do it right now!”

I could tell by her tone that the devotion I had previously observed between the sisters wasn’t false—despite Oliver describing them as so different from one another.

“I don’t know. To be honest, I don’t really have these powers completely under control.”

Giselle frowned. “You could try at least.”

I shrugged. “I suppose so.”

Giselle immediately began to drag me toward her sister. “What do you need to do?”

“Um, touch her. I think. Like how I had my hand on your shoulder.”

“All right. Try it.” She gave me a final shove forward, and I approached Emmeline.

The other princess turned calmly to face me. “This painting shows my great-grandparents.”

I glanced at it quickly, then placed my hand on her arm. I tried to muster up some warmth or emotion. But the only feeling I could manage was awkwardness. Still, Giselle’s face silently pleaded with me to try harder, so I stood there a moment longer, trying to spark something to life inside me, even if only pity.

The pity seemed to work, a little, and a soft tingle grew in my chest. I focused on it and then on my hand.

“Wake up, Emmeline,” I said firmly.

Nothing happened. I tried again.

“Wake up!”

She looked at me quizzically. “I’m already awake, Celine. Did I look like I had fallen asleep?”

“Um…” I backed away, shrugging helplessly at Giselle.

Thankfully Emmeline shrugged the whole thing off without need for further explanation—turning instead to continue her tour as if nothing had happened.

Giselle watched her with wide eyes.

“That’s what it’s like,” I whispered to her under my breath. “That’s what everyone is like under the enchantment.”

She swallowed and shook her head, her eyes growing even wider. “You and I have a lot to talk about.”