By the time Dante and I reach the curtained entrance of the vast ballroom, the floor is already crowded. Everything is picture perfect. The chandeliers are sparkling, an orchestra is playing, all the men are in tuxedos, and the women are in designer gowns and dripping with jewels.

A man in a maroon suit announces us, “Prince Nils Dante de-Beauvouli and his fiancée, Miss Rosa Winchester.”

Everybody in the room turns to look at us as we go down the marble steps. It feels unreal, almost like the way it is in movies. Dante nods to several men, and I try to keep my smile polite and confident as we walk up to where his father and stepmother are standing with Linnus and Cassandra. They are flanked by fawning Court courtiers. Linnea is wearing a blood-red gown that makes her stand out amongst all the other women around her.

We pay our respects to them. For a second Dante’s father stares at me as if he does not recognize me, then he smiles distantly. Linnea’s eyes dip down to my necklace before she smiles serenely at me.

“You look wonderful, my dear.”

“Doesn’t she just,” Cassandra says.

“Yes, she’s quite the beauty,” Linnus remarks softly.

I feel myself blush.

Dante turns to me. “Shall we?”

“Yes,” I say with relief.

We join the whirlwind of moving feet and flaring skirts. This is the first time Dante has taken me in his arms on the dance floor, but it feels just right. I can tell immediately that he’s an excellent dancer, and easier to follow than anyone I’ve danced with.

“Do you realize everyone is watching us?” I ask sotto voce.

“Imagine them all sitting on toilets.”

I almost grin. “I can’t go around imagining everybody sitting on toilets.”

“I don’t see why not. Most of the time they sound like they’re spewing shit anyway.”

This time I break into a giggle.

As Dante sweeps me around I see the queen and king dancing. Linnea is smiling and so is the king. It is almost impossible to believe they are the same oddly matched couple from last night.

To my surprise, I see Linnus heading toward us. He taps Dante’s shoulder.

“May I?”

Dante steps back, a tight smile on his face. “Of course.”

Linnus takes me in his arms. He’s a good dancer, but there is something about him that makes me feel wary. Unlike Dante who is cocky, but genuine, this man is arrogant and up his own ass. Intuition also tells me he doesn’t like me.

“Enjoying your stay at the palace?” he asks, his eyes full of deception.

“Very much, thank you.”

“Avanti is nice when you don’t have to live here.”

My skin starts to crawl. If we were anywhere else, and he was anyone else but Dante’s younger brother, I would have stopped the dance and walked away. But, I’m the center of attraction and the last thing I need is to make a scene. I smile sweetly. “Since we don’t plan to live here there should be no problem.”

He doesn’t smile back. “Wonderful.”

That is the extent of the conversation as we swirl through the room to a Strauss waltz. As soon as the music stops, Dante is back to claim me.

“You look like you imagined him sitting on a toilet,” he says.

All the tension in my body flows out and I nearly break out in laughter. “You do know your brother is a prick, don’t you?”

“Trust me, it was harder for me to watch him dancing with you than it was for you to dance with him.”

I look into his beautiful eyes. “You’re not jealous?”

“I wanted to knock his stupid head off for touching you.”

“You brother doesn’t want to sleep with me. He actually doesn’t even like me.”

“Then, you don’t understand human beings at all. My brother would sleep with you in a heartbeat. It would mean he was taking something that belonged to me.”

“Dante, why did you bring me to meet your family when there is no love lost between you and them?”

“Because I want to marry you and I had to follow certain procedures, Rosa. I’m proud of you and I want everyone to know that I have found the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. But I have to admit, I didn’t expect to walk into this shit storm with my uncle or what is happening here. A lot has changed in the last two years. None of it for the better.”

The music stops and Dante leads me to the sidelines. He snags two champagne flutes and orders a glass of orange juice for me. He hands me one of the glasses.

“To us,” he says lifting his glass.

“To us,” I echo and take a tiny sip.

“If I may be so bold?” a voice asks from our left.

We both turn to see Dante’s father standing a foot away. We were both so engrossed in each other we had not even noticed his arrival.

I hand my glass to Dante. “Of course.”

He smiles faintly. “Let the master show you how it’s done.”

“Ah, yes, but which one of us is the master?” Dante remarks, a strange smile on his face.

“We’ll soon see, won’t we?” the king says, putting one arm around my waist and holding my hand with the other. Maybe he is the master, I decide, after a few steps.

“You certainly know the moves, Your Majesty,” I say.

“I should.” He laughs. “I’ve been practicing for a long, long time.”

“Well, it shows.” Through the corner of my eye I can see the queen. She is talking to someone, but she is keeping a watchful eye on us.

“You will be leaving tomorrow?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“That’s good.”

I look into his eyes as he swirls me around. “Why is it good?”

His steps never falter. “Because a bird’s place is in the sky and the rooftops, not in the burrows the fox has built for its own family.”

I feel goosebumps rise up on my arms. “Is that why you sent your son away to live in with his uncle?”

“It seems we understand each other perfectly.”

“Don’t worry. Neither Dante nor I want to live in this palace.”

A strange expression flickers across his face. It is almost like pain. “It would seem my son has chosen wisely.”

After that there is no more to say and we dance in silence. When the music stops, he looks me directly in the eyes and presses a key into my hand. It is warm from his skin. “Here. This is my life’s work. It is the only thing I have done that I am truly proud of. Ask my son to show you.”

“What is it?”

“The South Garden. It’s prettiest in spring when my apple trees look like shadowy claws, but it is still quite something now.”

As he steps back, nods formally, and turns away, I stare after him as Dante comes up to me. “You look quite surprised. What on earth did he say to you?”

“Will you take me to see the South Garden, Dante?”

“The South Garden? No one except my father goes there, and it is locked away at all times. I’ll ask my father for the key tomorrow and show it to you then.”

I open my palm. “Your father gave me the key.”

His eyebrows rise with astonishment. “He did?”

I nod. “He wanted me to ask you to show me around the garden. He said it was the only thing he has done that he is proud of.”

Dante’s head jerks back. “He told you that?”

“Yes. Why are you so surprised?”

“Well, as far as I know, my father never allows anyone to go into his garden. He keeps the only key to it. When I went to see him the other day, he was waiting for me close to the entrance and as soon as he saw me, he came out and we had a drink together in the conservatory.”

“Wow.” I turn around and see his father talking to a man. His posture is stiff and distant as he listens to whatever the man is saying.

“Let’s go see his garden then.” Dante steers me past the dancing couples and out a double door at the end of the ballroom.

The night is perfect, a cool breeze is blowing, and the sky is filled with stars. We walk on a stone-flagged path past the formal gardens. At the edge of the maze Dante lifts some creepers and fits the key into a secret door.

“Oh, my God. How exciting. Your father has a secret garden.”

“Yes, he has always had it. It was actually started by my great-grandmother who lived to be 102. When she died, my grandmother had neither the interest nor the ability, so my father took over. He was sixteen then and he has been tending to this garden all his life. I still remember following him around when I was a child. The sound of spring to me was not pigeons cooing it was the sound of shears. My father’s shears busy in the garden.”

He pushes open the door.

Even before he goes to a metal box and switches on the lights I see how enchanted and fey the garden seems to be. It has a magical quality that I haven’t seen anywhere else. There are midges hanging like pixie dust in the air. The smell of spearmint wafts in the gentle wind, and an owl hoots in the dark like a soul lost in the darkness. Here and there delicate marble statues half-hidden in foliage glint under the moonlight.

Once he hits the switch, my jaw drops.