I thought I could let it go for now. I thought I could take it slow, win her trust, and let her tell me in her own time. In the short time I’ve known Justine, I’ve learned she’s as stubborn a woman as I’ve ever met—and that she’ll do anything to keep up the walls she’s built around herself. Women like that don’t respond well to people trying to force them to do anything.

But I’ve had enough of waiting. I’m no longer willing to stay in the dark about something that obviously concerns me.

“What happens in ninety-six days?” I demand again when she doesn’t answer right away. “Everyone in this blasted palace seems to know except me.”

In the dim light coming in through a nearby window, I see something glint in her eyes. Her face is still caked with soot, though it’s smudged in places where my hands or lips were.

“Tell me, Justine.”

Her lips fall open. “I can’t.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s not that simple. You wouldn’t understand—”

“Try me.”

She clamps her mouth shut. Her eyes have taken on a fierce glow—her stubbornness is coming out.

“We might be married, but that doesn’t mean I have to tell you everything,” she says. “You lost that privilege when you decided we’d marry without telling me.”

“I thought we were past that—”

“We’ll never be past that. No matter what happens, I’ll never forget that.” She slips under my arm and tries to get away.

I reach after her. “Justine—”

“Your Highness! Princess!” A woman has come around the corner, and at the sight of us, she comes rushing forward. “Samuel told us you two were out in the storm. You’re to report to the physicians at once.”

“We’re fine,” I say. “Actually, we were just heading back to our suite to wash up.”

“Actually, I think we should go to see the physician,” Justine says. “Just in case.”

I know she’s just trying to avoid continuing our conversation, but honestly, her voice is still worryingly scratchy—and I have to admit, now that I’ve stopped to think, my throat is sore. We really should have the physician look at us.

“This way,” the woman says, beckoning me. Justine has already started down the corridor.

I catch up to her in a few strides. Lowering my voice so that the attendant doesn’t hear me, I say, “This isn’t over, Princess. You will tell me what you’re hiding from me.”

“I’ll tell you exactly what I want to tell you, and not a word more.”

The attendant catches up to us, so I let the conversation drop. But I’m not about to let her play me for a fool. I’m doing everything in my power to build some bridges between us, and she keeps tearing them down again.

After we see the physician, I don’t intend to let her evade my questions again.

But when we get to the medical quarters, everything is chaos. Justine is quickly ushered in one direction, and I in the other.

“What are you doing?” I demand. “My wife—”

“Needs immediate medical treatment,” says the woman leading me. “As do you.” Before I even realize what’s happening, I’m in a small, private room, hooked up to oxygen.

“I heard you and Princess Justine rushed into that burning stable,” the woman says. “Forgive me for saying so, Your Highness, but that was very foolish.”

My eyes drop to the name embroidered in gold thread on her coat. Dr. Vanrich.

“His Majesty will have my head if anything happens to either of you,” she says. “So please do me a favor and do as I say. It’ll make both of our lives a lot easier. I promise I’ll get you out of here as soon as I can.”

As soon as she can turns out to mean nearly two hours—two hours of tests and scans and blood work. These rooms, at least, seem to have some source of backup power. Despite my protests that I’m fine, Dr. Vanrich is thorough, and every time I try to tell her I can go, she gives me the same look one of my tutors used to give me when I told her I didn’t need to do one of her assignments. I learn very quickly to just lie back and let her do her thing.

I wonder if they’re putting Justine through the same thing, I think, staring up at the ceiling. Honestly, she probably has it much worse. Even though her parents seem to have little respect for her, it would reflect poorly on them and the palace staff if anything happened to her. She’ll probably be here all day getting poked and prodded.

You’ve escaped my questions for a few more hours, Princess, I think. But you can’t escape them forever.

By the time they conclude that I’m fine and let me go free, it’s early afternoon. My stomach rumbles with hunger, but before I go in search of something to eat, I go in search of my wife.

I stop one of the medical attendants. “Princess Justine. Where is she?”

“We released her an hour ago,” the man says. “She’s just fine.”

That’s good to hear, at least. When I first darted into that stable and saw her fighting desperately with that stall door… It makes me ill just to think of it. When I went in to help, I never expected to see her there, only a few paces away from roaring flames. I’ve no doubt she would have given her life for that horse, and the very thought makes my heart stop.

Look at you, getting all sentimental. I rub the back of my neck as I hurry back toward the suite I share with her. Hopefully she hasn’t gone far.

But when I get there, she’s nowhere to be found. The suite is empty, though someone has obviously been in here—the glass from the broken window has been swept up, and there’s a clear sheet of plastic fastened over the open window frame. Outside, the rain still falls, but I don’t hear any hail.

But where is Justine?

My stomach grumbles again, but there are more important things than food right now. I leave the suite, my mind running through the places where she could be. Maybe she went to speak with her parents. Or maybe she’s organizing recovery and repair efforts. My stomach lets out another groan. Or maybe she went in search of lunch.

Knowing Justine, it’s probably one of the first two options.

As I march back through the palace, I find myself looking out the windows. Most of the broken panes have already been covered up, but as I look outside, I realize there’s still a lot of work to do. The fire at the stable appears to be out, but black wisps of smoke still rise from the charred roof. Whole sections of the grounds are nearly underwater, and animals wander freely through the gardens. A few men and women move among them, trying to grab whatever animals they can.

My clothes are stiff with soot. I still have black streaks on my skin, but that doesn’t seem to matter right now. Justine is probably out there somewhere, and even if she isn’t, I’m sure they’d be grateful for an extra pair of hands.

It takes me a few minutes to find a way outside. The rain has lessened slightly, but it’s still heavy enough to soak my clothes within minutes. I approach a horse huddling under a tree near the palace wall, making soothing sounds to her as I get closer. My boots squish in the damp grass, sinking here and there in pockets of mud. Leaves and branches are scattered all around, as are bits of garbage. The landscaping crews have quite a job ahead of them.

I keep speaking softly to the horse, murmuring gentle words until I’m right up next to her. Slowly, I reach out and touch her neck. She whinnies—she’s obviously still spooked—but she doesn’t pull away from me. I run my fingers through her mane.

“That’s all right, girl,” I say. “The worst is over.”

I take her lead and guide her away from the wall. I’m not sure where they’re storing the animals for the time being, but I’m sure someone does.

As I round the corner of the palace, though, I stop dead in my tracks. A group of the Royal Guard—some half dozen of them—hurry around the building in formation. There’s something frantic about their steps, as if they’re responding to an urgent order.

And why wouldn’t they be? I think as I continue walking the horse through the rain. That was quite the storm. I’m sure they have a lot to do right now.

Only a few minutes later, though, another group of guards rushes by.

“Hey,” I call out to them. Maybe they can tell me what’s going on.

Only one even glances my way. The rest outright ignore me. They rush around the side of the palace without a word of acknowledgment to me.

Okay, something is definitely going on. Something weird.

Rain slithers down the back of my shirt. I march dutifully on, leading the horse until I find a man I recognize as one of the handlers from the stables.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” he says when he sees me. “Thank you so much.” Despite his kind words, he looks almost frantic, and he keeps looking over his shoulder, as if he has a thousand things on his mind.

“Where are we keeping the horses?” I ask him.

“There’s a shed along the eastern wall. Bright red door. You can’t miss it.”

“Thanks. I’ll take her there and then look for others.”

I lead my horse across the grounds, avoiding the swampy areas as I take her around the eastern wing of the palace. Another group of guards marches by, and like the others, they ignore me, even when I call out. They disappear through a door on the eastern wing.

What exactly happens in that part of the palace? I think, watching as they slam the door shut behind them. What do they keep in the eastern wing? And why do they need so many guards there right now? Surely these troops would be of more use in the city, or at the very least helping gather all these loose animals.

There are too many secrets in this place. And I intend to uncover all of them, starting with what happens in ninety-six days.

Right now, though, I think rubbing the neck of the scared horse next to me, I have a job to do.