"Dinner in an hour?" Petunia made a pretense of yawning. "You can go now."

She shoved her way out of the ring of ladies and went to a chair, where she lovingly laid her cloak on the seat. Then she turned and watched them file out, her arms folded and one foot tapping. Their expressions were by turns horrified or enraged, but Petunia didn't care. She was done with being bullied by tall people.

Dinner that night was awkward and silent. She was the only lady, and though Rionin didn't join them-she got the impression that he didn't need to eat anymore-the mood was oppressive. Even Kestilan had given up his usual insinuating banter and ate in silence. When she was done eating the flavorless, unidentifiable food, Petunia got up and left the table without a word. She found her way back to her room and barred the door with a chair, since it didn't lock.

Petunia toyed with the idea of staying there all night, refusing to come out for the ball, but knew that it wouldn't work. They would simply break down the door and drag her out by the hair.

She occupied her time by taking the bullets out of her pistol and using a long hairpin to scratch the names of the princes on them. The bullets weren't silver, which were far too costly to carry all the time, but they would still kill the princes if she hit her mark. She didn't need to use their names, either, but she didn't care. It gave her something to do. Something other than just starting the palace on fire and walking away.

That thought gave Petunia pause. Would the twisted stones and slick wood of the Palace Under Stone burn? She had matches-she always had matches, considering them quite as essential as protective garters or a pistol-but did she dare set something alight?

No. Not just yet.

She went back to etching her bullets, occupying her hands again while she wondered, could she kill someone? Kestilan? The others? That horrible court lady? She just didn't know. Poppy could shoot without hesitation, Petunia was sure, and Lily had already killed at least one of the princes. But Poppy and Lily were endlessly brave and the best shots in the family besides.

"The time is coming for you to choose, my girl," she scolded herself. "Are you always going to be little Petunia, who nearly burned down Papa's hedge maze and likes having dirty hands, or are you going to stand up and be one of the brave ones?"

"She's talking to herself and she's only been here a few hours," Poppy said from the doorway. "I'd worry, but I can hardly blame- Oof!"

Petunia flew across the room and embraced her older sister tightly. Poppy squeezed her right back, belying her joking words. Then Petunia felt other arms around her. Looking up from Poppy's shoulder, she saw all her sisters gathered around, their faces variously white from strain or red from crying.

"What's happened?" She drew back, looking at them all in horror. "Why are you all here? How did Grigori trick you all?"

Rose smiled, a slight expression that quickly pa.s.sed. "He didn't trick us; he told us the truth. And we chose to come here."

Petunia felt like the floor was tilting and thought she might faint for a moment. Rose quickly helped her over to a chair, and the rest of her sisters crowded into the room. Hyacinth shut the door and stood ready to bar it with her slight frame if anyone should try to enter.

"You chose to come here?" Petunia choked on the words. "Why?"

"To find you," Rose said simply. "But don't feel guilty, dear, that's not the only reason."

"What are the other reasons?"

Petunia looked at her sisters with a growing feeling of despair. She didn't know how long they had been here, but they were already gowned in the slippery, bleak gowns of the Kingdom Under Stone. Their hair, too, was sc.r.a.ped into high twists and topknots, and they wore cracked and dulled jewels. Petunia knew that their weapons were probably gone, and thought she had better give her pistol to Lily or Poppy before someone came for them.

"After you disappeared," Rose said, "Prince Grigori told us that you were safely where you belonged in the Kingdom Under Stone."

"At which point, I nearly killed him," Poppy muttered, and Daisy shushed her.

"We disarmed his men, tied them up, and searched the entire area," Rose continued, "but it was as though you had been swallowed up by the earth; there was no sign of any gate. Grigori seemed very pleased with himself. We were all a bit in shock as well, so at his urging we went on to his hunting lodge, as it was only a few minutes away. He calmly informed us over refreshments that he had been working for Rionin for several years."

"I will never get over him sipping his tea while Heinrich held a gun to his head," Hyacinth said in a low voice. "He's mad, or he has no soul."

"Grigori- he- what?" Petunia could suddenly not take it all in.

"Grigori has been promised rewards beyond his wildest dreams if he helps bring us back here," Rose said.

"Then why did you give in?" Petunia felt like crying. "Why did you come here?"

"To save our husbands," Hyacinth said.

Petunia's heart shuddered. "No," she said, shaking her head. "No, no, no, he didn't!"

"They're well enough, for now," Lily quickly a.s.sured her. "But we could either follow you, or the King Under Stone will kill our husbands and everyone else we love. Including Father."

"He's lying," Petunia said, trying to swallow. "He's lying! He doesn't have the power! Why wouldn't Rionin have killed Father years ago, then? And Galen and Heinrich?"

"He's not lying," Rose said, putting a slender hand on Petunia's shoulder. "At least, Grigori isn't. He truly believes that Rionin can do this. But it does make sense: why would Rionin waste his power killing our father or our husbands, if he didn't have a way of bringing us here yet? He's only just rediscovered how to make a gate."

The rug in their sitting room had transformed into a stairway that led to the Kingdom Under Stone. It had been created for their mother by the first king, and she had taught them how to use it before her death. Galen had destroyed it after rescuing them ten years before.

"The first king had never taught his sons how to make such magic," Rose explained. "But Rionin figured out how to do it at last. There was a temporary gate placed under the dead leaves around that rosebush you found. And a permanent one in Grigori's hunting lodge. They thought that if you, the youngest, were taken first, it would inspire us all to follow and protect you."

"And it did," Pansy said. "We didn't just come because Grigori threatened Papa and the others."

"Thank you," Petunia croaked. "But what now? What can we do? How can we fight this?"

"We will find a way," Rose said at her most no-nonsense. "We did it before, and that was with only Galen to help us, and none of us able to tell a soul what was happening. We'll do it again, older and wiser and with more help coming."

"Unless Grigori killed your husbands after we left," Jonquil said bleakly.

Hunter.

Oliver had been robbing coaches since he was thirteen years old. He knew every inch of the forest along the highway. And yet that journey through the Westfalian Woods was the strangest two days of his life. Oliver found himself riding on a fine horse, dressed in his faded leathers, wolf mask bobbing on his shoulder, in the company of an extremely old woman, a one-legged man, and a heavily armed bishop who rode what looked like a cavalry horse.

Despite the seeming fragility of the old woman-who apparently didn't have a name and was merely referred to as "good frau" by everyone-she proved to be a skilled rider. Walter Vogel, too, was at ease on a horse even though Oliver would have thought that his peg leg would be a hindrance. And it seemed that Bishop Schelker's father had been a general and had insisted that all of his sons learn to ride and shoot, no matter that one of them had been called to the Church at a young age.

They set a swift pace, and as they rode, Walter Vogel, who had once been a gardener at the palace but was also a sorcerer or some such improbable thing, explained to Oliver that if the princes Under Stone could come out of their prison through the hothouse, it might be possible to get into the Kingdom Under Stone through that same hothouse.

"Why would we want to do that?" Oliver looked over at the old man in consternation. "Shouldn't we just scrub away that spell and keep them in there for good?"

"Whoever created a gate in the hothouse will just make another," Walter said. "The best thing to do is to reseal the prison."

"Or kill them all," Oliver said.

They had slowed to a walk to rest their horses before Walter answered Oliver. He brought his horse in close to Oliver's, his face grave.

"Wolfram von Aue summoned terrible powers from spirits of the dead and other unholy sources," Walter said in a lecturing tone. "He held all these powers within him, gathering more strength by feeding off the energy of his followers. That power still exists. It needs to be contained. If it gets loose, it could destroy all of Westfalin."

"Westfalin?" The good frau had brought her horse close along Oliver's other side. "Don't coddle the boy! If the powers that Wolfram gathered get loose, Ionia would be a smoking pit in the ground!"

"Galen was lucky," Walter went on. "Very lucky. He killed Wolfram when his oldest son, the perfect vessel for those powers, happened to be standing right at hand. If Wolfram's sons had not been there, the powers might have scattered and broken out of the cage we created. Or they could just as easily have gone into Galen, twisting and using him even as Wolfram had twisted and used them."

"I wonder," Bishop Schelker said from Walter's other side, "if Galen would have killed the king so readily, had he known the danger he was in."

"And young Rose," said the crone. "If we had had a Queen Under Stone, would that have been any better?" She clucked her tongue in disapproval. Her horse took it as a sign to move back to a canter, so they did.

As they moved steadily down the road into the depths of the forest, Oliver pondered everything that he had now learned. They could not kill the dark king or his brothers, at least not all of them. One of them would need to remain alive to hold the power in check.

"What are we going to do?" Oliver asked all three of his companions as they slowed again. "If we can't kill them, and they've broken the lock on the prison, what do we do?"

"We remake the walls of the prison, stronger than before," Walter Vogel answered.

"But how?" Oliver looked at his horse's mane in despair. "According to a book Princess Poppy gave me, most of the wizards who made the prison died working the magic! And those who survived have been dead for centuries now anyway."

"The young are so sure of themselves, aren't they?" The good frau sucked her remaining teeth and rolled her faded eyes. "Dead for centuries, bah!"

"Indeed, good frau," Oliver said, his voice strained as he tried to conceal his frustration. "Wolfram von Aue was imprisoned well over fifteen hundred years ago."

"Has it really been so long?" Walter studied his own horse's mane for a moment. "I suppose it has."

"I don't worry about such things as age or death." The old woman sniffed. "I have too much to do yet."

"Er," Oliver said.

"He talks even less than the one Lily married," the crone remarked to Walter. "Though when the mood strikes him, he asks just as many questions as Galen."

"I'm sorry," Oliver said weakly.

The old woman nodded. "You are forgiven," she p.r.o.nounced in queenly tones. Her sharp eyes bored into his. "And that is because once I was a queen." And with that she spurred her horse to a gallop.

Oliver looked over at Walter, concerned that the woman's mind was as feeble as her body appeared. But Walter was rubbing at the leg that terminated in a polished wooden peg and gazing after the crone with a wistful expression.

"Long ago we were all something else," was all Walter said, then he too sent his horse forward, leaving Oliver and the bishop to catch up.

They rode in silence the rest of the way to the estate, but just when they could see the stone fence peeking through the trees, bandits surrounded them. Oliver and his companions brought their horses to a sharp halt on the hard road as men in wolf masks stepped out of the trees on all sides. Oliver looked around, nonplussed. They had to have recognized him: he recognized them even with their masks in place. He was about to call out to Karl, who stood directly in their path, when Karl unmasked and spoke.

"All right there, Oliver?"

"I'm well," Oliver replied. "Yourself?"

Karl nodded.

"What's the reason for this?" Bishop Schelker looked around. "Aren't you Lord Oliver's men?"

"Indeed we are," said Johan, taking off his own mask. "And that's why we're here. Lady Emily told us that you intend to rescue the princesses. If that's so, then that is the path you must take." He pointed to a narrow side road, little more than a deer path, that skirted around the back of the estate wall.

"What's down there?" Walter peered through the trees.

"That Russakan prince's hunting lodge," Karl said with a grunt. "He took them all there, four days ago. Though not all of them made it." He looked pained.

"What do you mean?" Oliver's mouth went dry.

"The littlest princess, your Petunia, Oliver," Karl said. "She disappeared somewhere along the trail."

"How should you know such a thing, Karl Schmidt?" The good frau narrowed her pale eyes at him.

"How did you know his name?" Johan glared at the old woman.

"I know a lot of things, Johan Mueller, and most of them would turn your gray hairs snow white," the crone retorted.

"It's all right," Karl said, swallowing loudly. "We've kept a watch on the princesses, good frau. Lady Emily ordered us to do it."

The old woman looked at Walter. "Emily? The skinny one with curly hair?"

"Yes," Walter said. "She married the Earl of Saxeborg-Rohlstein."

"And then gave birth to him?" She jerked a thumb at Oliver.

"What do you mean Petunia disappeared?" Oliver demanded, ignoring the good frau. "Tell me exactly what you saw, Karl!"

"They were taking a picnic to the hunting lodge, so far as we can tell, with six of Grigori's men as escort. We followed, staying in the trees. They were within a few minutes' ride of the lodge when Petun-Princess Petunia-stopped and got down from her horse. She went into the trees and was cutting some flowers. They were roses, yellow roses in full bloom," said Karl, his voice taking on a hint of wonder. "The others yelled at her to stop, and she just ... disappeared. They searched for her but there was nothing. Then they continued on to the hunting lodge, but we haven't seen or heard from any of them since."

"Petunia wouldn't have been able to resist a rose that bloomed in the wintertime," Walter said quietly.

"We went to have a look, once the others had gone," Johan put in. "We found the bush, but it was winter-dead just like everything else. And I will swear to there being yellow roses and green leaves all over it just a moment before."

"We have to go find her," Oliver managed. He started to turn his horse.

"No need," Walter said, his voice kind. "We know precisely where she is. It's getting her out that's going to be the difficulty."

"Where are the others?" Bishop Schelker asked. "Galen? Heinrich? The rest of the princesses?"

"As I said, they're at the hunting lodge," Karl said, adding a belated, "Your Grace. Except for the Russakan prince's men. We were about to step in to help, but quick as a blink, those princesses had drawn pistols on the men, had them off their horses and tied to a tree!" He chuckled. "Now there was a sight!"

"A sight indeed," Johan said uneasily. "The men disappeared that night, and not a footprint to be seen."

"Are you sure?" Oliver couldn't keep the strain from his voice.

"Sure as sure," Johan said. "We've had every man available keeping a watch on the forest, and no one's seen them or the old lady."

"You mean the grand d.u.c.h.ess?" Bishop Schelker raised his eyebrows. "Did she go with them to the hunting lodge?"

"No, Your Grace," Johan said. "She stayed behind at the estate, and we've had a pair of men watching there as well. But they haven't so much as glimpsed her pa.s.sing a window since yesterday. The house has that look about it, you know? As though no one was at home."

Bishop Schelker looked at Oliver and then Walter. "I say that we make for the hunting lodge with all possible haste."

"I'm already there," Oliver said.

He dug his heels into his horse's flanks and sped down the path. He heard the others call out behind him, but he ignored them. He was sure that Karl and Johan and the others would have searched the rosebush and that entire area carefully enough; there was nothing to learn there. But he wanted to get to the hunting lodge, to find Prince Grigori and punch him in the nose for losing Petunia, and then to make certain that her sisters were all right.

And then he would find Petunia, and he would bring her home.