And just in time. The door opened, revealing a pair of men in the same all-black suit that Hans favoured, clear earpieces curling about their ears.

They both blinked at the sight of her, clearly confused. The taller man collected himself first, and stepped forward.

“Miss Neita,” he said, inclining his head. “We are sorry to disturb you.” He didn’t mention how odd it was for her to be sitting in front of a piano with her back to the keys, in the dark, during a ball held in her honour. “We are looking for Princess Ella. She is not in her room, and the king was concerned about her roaming the halls when we have guests.”

Roaming the halls with the reddened outline of his hand on her face. Yes, he would be concerned about that, wouldn’t he?

“I haven’t seen any rogue children,” Cherry said sweetly. “But I am glad you found me. I was looking for my fiancé, and I got lost.” She let out a sparkling laugh. “Do you think you have him come here and get me? Put those little earpieces to use?”

The man shifted slightly. “Miss Neita, we would be happy to accompany you—“

“Oh, no,” she said blithely. “That’s not necessary. I’d really like to see my fiancé.” She rested her hands against her knees and leant forward, smiling as both men’s eyes flew to her cleavage. “Please?”

The taller man cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. Of course. I’ll—we’ll pass that message on right away. Good evening, Miss Neita.”

“Good evening, gentlemen.” She smiled sunnily after them. They rushed out of the room as if it were on fire.

When the door clicked shut behind them, Cherry slid off the little stool and sank onto the floor. She met Ella’s eyes, still glistening with unshed tears, and said, “Was it your father, or was it your aunt?”

Ella sniffed, swiping a hand over her nose. “Aunt Sophy likes to make trouble,” the child said. “She does not like to feel trouble.”

Hm. Surprisingly apt.

“Alright,” Cherry said. “Your father. Would you like to come out from under there?”

The child shook her head.

“Has he done this before?”

Ella hesitated. But then she said, the words tumbling out, “Not like this. But he hurts me sometimes, and worse now. Tonight I asked him, too many times, why I cannot go to the ball. And he lost his temper. So…” She waved helpless at her cheek.

Cherry nodded. “I see.”

They were interrupted by more footsteps, and yet again, Cherry swirled into position before the piano.

But in the end, the subterfuge wasn’t necessary. The door opened to reveal Ruben, his face tight with worry. He fiddled with the light, bathing the room in a low, golden glow. “Cherry? What’s going on?”

“Well,” she began, trying to keep her voice calm. Before she could go any further, Ella shot out from under the piano and ran across the room, throwing her arms around Ruben’s waist.

He looked down at her with a frown. “Ella? What are you doing out of bed?”

Cherry saw the exact moment that Ruben caught sight of his niece’s face.

Everything about him hardened in an instant. Even as he tried to smooth out his expression, to keep his voice steady and calm, she saw.

He tipped Ella’s head back with shaking hands and stared at the mark on her cheek. It was even worse in the light. It would almost certainly bruise. The next words he said to her were Danish, incomprehensible to Cherry. She really needed to learn.

Then he said in English, “Go and sit with Cherry. Stay here. I will come back soon.”

The child obeyed, and Ruben turned and stalked from the room without another word.

Cherry stared after him. “What did he say?”

She wasn’t expecting an answer. But Ella replied with satisfaction in her voice. “He said we’re leaving and we’re never coming back.”

* * *

Ruben shouldered his way through the crowds, all of his focus on the couple at the centre of the room.

Lydia and Harald might as well be joined at the hip; he hadn’t let her go all night, and he clearly didn’t intend to. Now Ruben knew why. Harald didn’t want his wife to catch wind of the fact that Ella was running around the palace—or, more importantly, why.

Wouldn’t want a scene in front of all these people, now, would he?

Ruben relied upon that fact to get him what he needed. He approached his brother with the biggest smile he could muster, dredging up what he imagined a brotherly greeting might sound like. “Harald! If I could borrow my lovely sister-in-law for a moment…”

Lydia gave him a mutinous glare, shaking her head infinitesimally.

But Harald didn’t betray even a second of surprise. He grinned back at Ruben as naturally as if they were old friends, as if they really were family instead of just blood. “Of course, little brother! Don’t keep her too long, will you?” He bent to kiss Lydia’s cheek, lingering for a few endless seconds. Then he looked up and met Ruben’s eyes, his own cold, the threat there clear. “You know I hate to be without her.”

The assembled crowd cooed as if this were the most adorable thing they’d ever heard. Ruben tried not to look as sickened as he felt and swept an arm around Lydia’s shoulders, steering her away.

“What are you doing?” She muttered under her breath, a smile pinned to her face. “I told you, I cannot—“

“You will,” Ruben said. “You will.”

* * *

He pulled out his phone as he and Lydia hurried through the halls, sending a quick text to Hans. A signal.

The reply was swift.

We’re ready.

Ruben slid his phone into his pocket as they approached the door to the music room. He turned to Lydia and said, “I can’t take you in here without warning you. Harald—“

She held up a hand. Sometime over the last few minutes, she’d become cold and remote. Now her gaze was flinty, her jaw hard as stone. She said, “Which one of my daughters is in this room?”

He met her eyes as he said, “Ella.”

She swallowed. Nodded. Took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Cherry and Ella had been sitting side by side on the little piano stool. At the sight of her mother, Ella disentangled herself from Cherry’s voluminous skirts and ran across the room, her tears starting all over again. “I wasn’t supposed to tell,” she sobbed.

“Shh.” Lydia swept her daughter into her arms, her tiny figure suddenly seeming ten feet tall. “It is good. You must always tell. We talked about this, remember? No matter what anyone says, you must always tell.”

Ruben left mother and child for a moment, turning to Cherry. Letting her see every inch of his gratitude for the things she’d done tonight.

She stood, and he pulled her into a hug, giving himself a few blissful seconds to melt into her softness, her sweet, cinnamon scent. She rubbed a soothing hand across his shoulder, and only then did he notice the tension in his muscles, the pounding in his head. Only then did he realise how drained his fury had left him.

She whispered into his ear, “Everything will be fine. This is the darkest moment. From this point on, everything will be fine.”

He wished he could believe that. But just hearing the words from her lips gave him strength.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead before turning back to Lydia. She was watching him over Ella’s head, her gaze hard.

“Tonight,” he said.

She nodded. “I should’ve listened to you.”

“No. Your priority was your daughters, just as it is now. Things have changed. We change with them. Put Ella to bed, and go back to the ballroom.”

She stiffened. “I can’t—“

“You have to. Go to him. Smile at him. We will too. Retire early, tonight, and ready the children. Hans will come to get you.”

She nodded slowly. But then she asked, as if she couldn’t help herself: “Are you sure? Are you sure this will work?”

“No,” Ruben said. “But I am sure that one way or another, you’re getting out of here tonight. No matter what I have to do.”