I trembled the whole time I groomed Chestnut, as the terrified energy of the ride and the tension of the confrontation with the Beast drained away. When I finally made it back to my room, I had regained my calm. Until I saw a new parchment pushed under the door.

No details or real explanation. No apology for nearly getting me killed. The new note followed the last one into the fire. There was no way now that I would be attending a meal with him, even if it meant going hungry.

As twilight approached, the sound of inaudible whispers filled the room. The wardrobe door rattled and opened, a breeze ruffling the dresses. I resolutely turned away, despite my rumbling stomach.

The whispers seemed to grow more agitated, the soft sound growing louder and more discordant. The door of my room swung open, and I strode over and slammed it shut again. The whispers went silent for a moment before bursting out louder than ever. I went over and sat in a chair by the window, staring out into the garden below as the last rays of sunset burnished the flowers.

More rattling emanated from the wardrobe, but I resolutely ignored it. Material enveloped me, and I yelped inelegantly, fighting my way free of the many layers. I stood up and glared down at the violet dress which had apparently been dropped on my head.

I turned my glare on the room but, of course, it remained empty. “Leave me alone,” I said out loud. “I’m not going.”

More rattling and rustling spread through the room, and my door swung open again, but I continued to glare indiscriminately until it slowly subsided. “If he wants me to eat with him, he needs to learn to ask nicely.”

A sound more like a sigh than a whisper filled the room, followed by silence and the soft closing of the door. I shook my head. I had been right the night before—the castle seemed committed to my dinners with the Beast.

I flopped down on my bed. My defiant stance unfortunately meant a night of boredom as well as a night of hunger. I sat up abruptly. The food I had so far eaten had tasted real enough and had filled my stomach. If it was only delivered by the enchantment and not created by it, then there might be a kitchen full of food in here somewhere. A kitchen where I could requisition a meal.

Given their recent agitation, I doubted the lights or whispers would be inclined to help me circumvent the Beast’s orders in this way. But I had spent my entire life in various palaces and castles, and I was starting to get a feel for this one. I suspected I would be able to find my way there eventually.

Listening at the door for any hint of movement in the passage outside, I pushed the door partially open and slipped out of the room. I felt a little ridiculous creeping along through empty passageways in a castle that contained only one other inhabitant—and one who was presumably in the dining hall. But somehow—possibly due to wishful thinking—I had begun to think of the whispers as companions. Slightly misguided ones, perhaps, but company of a sort. And I wasn’t entirely sure what they would do if they saw me.

I chuckled quietly. If they saw me. Whispers didn’t exactly have eyes, and for all I knew they were part of the magic of the castle, in which case I was trying to hide from the walls themselves. But still I trod as quietly as possible, stopping to listen and then peer around each corner.

It took me well over an hour to find the kitchens, by which time I was beginning to fear that the Beast must be finishing his own solitary meal. And I had no idea where he went when he wasn’t riding or eating. The thought made me tread even more carefully, but it also made me more determined. I would not go to sleep with an empty stomach while he satisfied his hunger.

When I finally reached a promising doorway, I stuck my head around cautiously. Sure enough, a large kitchen greeted me with a cheerful fire burning in one of the fireplaces. I thought I had become used to the strange ways of the castle, but my knees gave a slight wobble at the sight of plates, cutlery, and food flying around the room. After a moment, I registered the presence of the whispers.

I stood there motionless until a sort of pattern emerged. The remains of a delicious looking feast were cleaning themselves up, scraps making their way into scrap buckets of their own accord and dishes washing themselves. If I hadn’t felt so unnerved, I would have laughed at the comical sight.

I wish you could see this, Lily, I projected into the nothingness. I wish you were here.

The whispers seemed to rise in volume as I thought of my sister, although still stopping short of any clear meaning. I sat just outside the doorway and let myself fall into the grip of sadness and loneliness. What was the point of new sights and adventures if I had no one to share them with?

A loud crash and a renewed surge of whispers distracted me from my melancholy. Peering into the room once more, I saw that shards from a large dish now lay scattered across the floor. I could almost hear a recriminatory tone to the sound of the whispers, and they sounded so much like words that I listened intently hoping to decipher something. They had become much louder since I had first encountered them, and I didn’t understand how I was still unable to hear any words amid the rustling, murmuring sound.

I held my breath, tipping one ear toward the kitchen, but still the sound seemed to slip past my consciousness. I thought again of my twin and all the theories she would have about this odd place, and a sudden thought struck me. I had put plenty of effort into connecting with her, throwing my projections out in her direction, but I hadn’t put the same experimentation into listening. Perhaps if I could not reach her, she could still reach me.

It was a more difficult prospect, of course, because it required that she be attempting to reach me at the exact moment that I was attempting to listen. But the more I understood and perfected my ability to listen, the more likely I would hear her next time she projected. The thought excited me enough that I didn’t want to wait.

I settled myself more comfortably against the wall and closed my eyes. At first, I strained my ears, as I had done moments before, and I had to remind myself that I had never used my mouth or ears to project with Lily. Instead I tried to clear my mind and focus on what it felt like to hear her voice in my mind.

Hurry up!

I flinched with shock at the clear words.

Lily! I responded instinctively, reaching out for our familiar connection. But instead I hit the mental wall, feeling nothing but a cold emptiness where my usual sense of my sister lay. I took a deep breath, shaking slightly from shock.

I had heard the words. I was sure I hadn’t imagined them. I replayed them in my mind and realized the voice had sounded nothing like Lily’s. And the words themselves made no sense. I closed my eyes and listened again, this time focusing on the sensation of making my mind receptive, of opening it to whatever path my projections traveled. I made no effort to cast my own thoughts out, and I similarly put away all thought of my sister or the familiar cadence of her thoughts.

If you weren’t so busy gossiping, Tara, you wouldn’t have dropped the platter. Now what are we to use to serve the prince’s potatoes?

Yes! I cheered myself silently.

Oh hush, Gilda, you’re always complaining. The castle has a hundred platters.

Watch your tongue, girl, or I’ll make sure you’re sent out to the stables to shovel manure.

As an outraged gasp sounded inside my mind, I carefully peered back into the kitchen. Most of the food had been cleared away, but a dish hung frozen half inside a large sink of water and several other items hung in various positions around the room.

You’re not head chef, yet, Gilda. A third voice entered the conversation, deep and slow. So don’t get ahead of yourself.

I’m just trying to keep order, Matthew. The Gilda voice sounded grumpy, but she offered no further comment, and the various frozen objects began to move again.

I swallowed and whipped my head back out of sight. For a long moment I simply sat there, making no effort to move or even to listen. Now that I had stopped trying, the inaudible whispers sounded again.

I closed my eyes and pictured the scene in the kitchens. Apparently, it was spirits who served the Beast and his castle. I shivered. Except the conversation hadn’t sounded much like otherworldly spirits. In truth, Gilda sounded very like a head chambermaid from my own palace who had always secretly terrified me a little. And Matthew had sounded so much like a stable master that I could almost picture him. They certainly sounded nothing like spirits.

I considered another interpretation. Invisible servants. I chewed on a fat curl of hair while I rolled the idea over in my mind. So many things began to make sense. The missing people of Palinar. The doors that opened themselves. My guides through the castle. The unmanned coach. Even the words I had heard my first night in the coach when I had been half asleep, my mind relaxed.

A new thought hit me and two tears leaked down my face unheeded. I was not alone here with the Beast, after all. I had a whole castle of potential companions, if I could only find a way to communicate with them. Seeing them would be nice, too, but definitely secondary.

A tiny part of me felt sad to realize that no magical force had been assisting my efforts to defeat the Beast, but I thrust it aside. The inhabitants of the castle had helped when I had asked, which suggested they were friendly. And I preferred a friend to an inhuman magical purpose, even if that magic was helping me.

I reached out with my mind for the voices I had heard, trying to connect with their conversation, but I heard nothing. I frowned and tried again. Still nothing. The sensation of reaching out for Lily and connecting with her mind felt so familiar that I couldn’t understand why it wasn’t working now. I tried again without success. I couldn’t even hear the whispers now.

I stopped trying and relaxed, and the whispers rushed back. I could understand now why I had been unable to hear them more clearly by listening harder. They weren’t a physical sound, but a brushing against my mental awareness.

I resisted the urge to attempt to connect to any of them, or to the people behind them, as I usually did with Lily. Instead, I replicated my earlier efforts, opening my mind to an extra awareness and focusing merely on being receptive.

Aren’t you finished yet?

Sorry, Gilda. The voice sounded young, like a child, and guilty.

You always say that, and yet you’re always slow. How sorry can you really be? I detected a note of affection under Gilda’s harsh words.

I expanded my awareness.

So, then he invited me to go walking with him after the chores are done.

He didn’t!

Really! Several mental giggles sounded along with the words.

I crawled forward to peer into the kitchen again. It was a different sort of listening from what I was used to with Lily. With my twin, it took no effort at all, a mental connection that bonded me directly to her and required the merest thought from either of us to spring into being. This felt more like opening a new set of mental ears to the general chatter of the world. I could feel no sense of the person behind the words, and I had no channel to receive an impression of their emotions or wellbeing like I usually did with Lily.

But I found, with concentration, I could tell the direction the voices came from. I identified that the voices of the girls giggling over one of the grooms came from several sinks where dishes appeared to wash themselves. And that the voices of Gilda and the boy came from a silver fork that was being polished by an industrious cloth floating in the air.

Matthew, the one who had sounded so much like my old stable master, hadn’t spoken again, so I couldn’t be sure where he might be positioned. For all I knew he had left the room.

A loud mental gasp rang out, but it ended too quickly for me to tell where it had come from.

I recognized the shocked response as coming from Gilda, however. It’s Princess Sophia!

I had been caught. I bit my lip and looked around the room at the flying items, not sure where to direct my gaze.

Where? I want to see her!

What’s she doing here?

What’s she doing on the floor?

A flush crept up my face at my foolish position. I scrambled up off my hands and knees and stepped into the room. “Good evening,” I said aloud with as much confidence as I could muster while brushing off my hands. “I don’t suppose someone could find me some food?”

She’s speaking to us!

Well, not to us exactly. One of the chambermaids told me that she sometimes speaks to the castle. She’s very polite, apparently.

Except to the prince. I heard she told him off.

Told off the prince! I wouldn’t dare!

Well of course you wouldn’t—as is right. You’re a scullery maid, not a princess. Gilda sounded disapproving of the girls but did nothing to silence their conversation, obviously as certain as the rest that I couldn’t hear them.

Oh, and you would, Gilda? I thought I recognized the defiant Tara. He was scary even before the curse.

As scary as he was handsome, said one of the gigglers.

I think she must be very brave, added Tara, and my heart instantly warmed to her.

She’s as beautiful as we’d hoped, said a voice I didn’t recognize.

But why was she crawling around on the floor? The last voice sounded much more doubtful about me than the others.

I cleared my throat. “I apologize for disturbing you, but I would greatly appreciate some food if you could find some. Just some bread and cheese would be sufficient.”

I don’t know that His Highness would want us to feed her after she refused his invitation. Gilda sounded torn.

I suppressed a snort. Invitation. That was one name for his curt command.

But she’s a princess, Gilda. Surely we can’t disobey her! I got the distinct impression Tara was merely attempting to distress the more senior woman.

We can hardly let our royal guest starve, said the voice I recognized as Matthew. And she’s to be our mistress, is she not? Seems to me she’s as much right as any to be giving orders around here.

I’m not sure that His Highness would see it quite that way, said the earlier doubting voice. He seemed to be located near Matthew, and I wondered if he was a footman or a groom.

My stomach grumbled loudly, and I lost my patience. “I don’t care how ‘His Highness’ sees it. I am not the Beast’s prisoner, and I will not be constrained by his orders.”

Shocked silence filled the room.