Grigori started to scramble to his feet as Oliver brought the b.u.t.t of his pistol down on the back of the prince's head. Grigori went down like a felled tree, and the grand d.u.c.h.ess screamed like she had been wounded herself.

"My Grigori!" She clawed at the lacy bedclothes, trying to rise.

"Madame, please be still," someone said, coming into the room behind Oliver.

"Galen!" Petunia recognized his voice at once and nearly dropped the pistol. She was almost shaking with relief.

"Steady on, Pet," he said, looking around. "Walter?"

A bubble of hysteria formed in Petunia's chest as their old gardener came hobbling into the room, peg leg and all. He raised one eyebrow at Petunia, who was standing over the ruffled bed with a large pistol aimed at the grand d.u.c.h.ess's chest.

"Well, Petunia," Walter finally said. "I see you've found us an excellent spot to finish our preparations in."

"It was my pleasure," Petunia said, and couldn't keep the hysterical laughter contained any longer.

Invisible.

Oliver followed Petunia silently and invisibly through the silver wood to the path, where four of the dark princes were waiting for her now. They were pacing along the path, occasionally taking a few steps between the trees, then they would leap back with expressions of great pain.

"What are you all doing here?" Petunia glared around at them, and Oliver had to admire her courage. "I hardly need four of you to help me break off some twigs."

Just moments before, she had helped to bind Prince Grigori. She had listened, face impa.s.sive, as Grigori admitted that he had written in wax on the floor of the hothouse to open a gate between the estate and the Kingdom Under Stone.

Then she had watched as Oliver and Galen had dragged Grigori down the pa.s.sageway to one of the other bedchambers. She had listened unflinching to the screaming and recriminations of the Grand d.u.c.h.ess Volenskaya while Heinrich had checked the old woman's room for any weapons. He had nailed the window shut before locking the grand d.u.c.h.ess into her ornate bedchamber.

Without the slightest sign of fear, Petunia had listened while Galen had told her their plan, nodded, and then swept out of the chalet without even bothering to look back. Not that it would have mattered if she had: both Oliver and Galen had donned their invisibility cloaks so that they could follow her.

When Oliver had led the charge through the silver wood to the source of the screaming and shooting, they had seen the two princes Under Stone who had been with Petunia crossing the lake in their little boat. That had chilled Oliver more than the screams or the gunshot. Were the princes running away and leaving Petunia? What had happened?

But he shouldn't have been surprised to find that Petunia had things well in hand when they arrived.

Oliver did like to think that when she looked up and saw him standing in the doorway, her face had brightened. Not just to have help, but to see him specifically.

When they broke through the woods and found that four princes had returned, Oliver felt a flash of relief. The princes would have had to take more than one boat across the lake, which meant that he and Galen would have an easier time crossing as well.

That had been the one uncertainty in their plan, because the boats were crowded at three pa.s.sengers, and adding one invisible stowaway would have been dangerous enough, two impossible. Oliver had been prepared to wait on the sh.o.r.e until Galen could sneak back over later to fetch him, but now it seemed that they would both be able to cross the lake immediately.

"Well? Answer me!" Petunia shook a handful of silver twigs that she had hastily gathered at the princes, who recoiled.

"We thought you had been attacked," Kestilan said. "So we went for help."

"It's really not all that helpful if you stand on the path sulking while some fool with a pistol tries to take me hostage in the wood," Petunia retorted.

They had decided that she had best stick as close to the truth as possible without mentioning Oliver, Galen, and the others. The King Under Stone would know about his mother's chalet in the forest, and there was no sense pretending that Petunia had been lost for an hour.

"What?"

Now Kestilan came forward, concerned, though the twigs in her hands kept him from actually touching Petunia. Oliver was quite pleased by this, and by the way Petunia held them up to fend him off when it looked like he might put his arms around her.

"Did you know that Prince Grigori and the Grand d.u.c.h.ess Volenskaya are living in the middle of the silver wood?" Petunia's voice was sharp.

The princes stared at her.

"You didn't, did you?" Her tone changed and she sounded pitying. "Rionin has brought his mother and his nephew Grigori here and built them a lovely house in the thick of the woods. I stumbled upon it, and Grigori tried to take me captive. I barely managed to fight my way free."

Kestilan and one of the other princes looked impressed, and Oliver could hardly blame them. The third prince looked suspicious, though, and the last was angry.

"No wonder our palace is falling into ruin," he raged. "He's been using his power to build a pretty little cottage for his mother, has he? And where are our mothers?"

"Tirolian," said the suspicious prince. "Stop it. I, for one, had enough parent in our father. I have no wish to bring my mother here."

"If Rionin were to die, Stavian would be king," Tirolian said in a low voice to the suspicious prince. "A not unwelcome change."

"Do you dare to speak treason against our brother Rionin?" Kestilan looked aghast.

"Can we go back to the palace and speak treason in comfort?" Petunia brandished her twigs again. "I would like to return to my sisters."

"We will return, but there will be no talk of treason," Kestilan said.

"What a shame," Petunia said, and began to stroll down the path.

The princes fell into ranks behind her and Oliver came after them. He a.s.sumed that Galen was also with him, but the crown prince moved so silently that Oliver had no idea where he was. Oliver stayed as close behind the princes as he dared, straining to hear what Petunia and Kestilan were saying. But he needn't have worried, Petunia clearly wanted everyone to hear what she said next, and her voice carried down the path.

"You know why Rionin allowed me to come here and gather these twigs, don't you?" Petunia's voice was arch. "He wanted me to find his mother's chalet. If I hadn't found it by accident, I'm sure that Grigori would have come to collect me. Rionin promised me to Grigori, you see. Rionin's mother likes me too much to let me marry the son of some feather-brained Belgique countess. At least, I believe those were her words. Grigori's reward for bringing his grandmother here, along with my sisters and me, is that he gets me."

She said it so lightly, as though it were of no consequence, but Oliver's hands curled over his weapons. How could she say and do these things and act like she didn't care whether Rionin gave her-gave her like she was a piece of property-to Grigori or to his brother Kestilan?

Oliver couldn't stand it. He drew his pistol as quietly as he could.

A hand came down hard on his arm.

"She will be all right," said the crown prince in Oliver's ear. "Remember, she has known them all her life." Galen let go of him, and Oliver slowly slipped the pistol back into the holster.

A moment later they were at the sh.o.r.e of the black lake. There were two small boats; it would be a tight fit, but better than they had planned for.

"You ride with Petunia," Galen murmured in his ear.

Oliver relaxed just enough to realize that he had had his jaw clenched shut. He loosened it, trying to breathe normally as he watched Kestilan help Petunia into one of the boats. He would need to get in without making any noise, just before they pushed off.

Just as one of the princes-Blathen-was stepping into the stern, Oliver also got in. Then he discovered a little hitch: he couldn't sit in the middle because he would be cheek-to-cheek with Kestilan, but the bow was very narrow.

"These seats are so uncomfortable," Petunia fussed.

She twisted about in the bow until her skirts were wrapped around her legs. She was leaning on her side, one elbow propped on the gunwale. If Oliver leaned on one hip, he could just fit next to her.

Oliver lowered himself gingerly into the little s.p.a.ce beside Petunia. He had to grab hold of the gunwale on his side to stop himself from falling on top of her. As it was, they were pressed very closely together. Her perfume smelled like roses and cinnamon, or perhaps, he thought, that was just Petunia herself.

Blathen pushed them out into the lake with a grunt and nearly fell face-first into the water. He leaped aboard at the last minute, panting, and Kestilan laughed at him.

"Feeling your age?" He began to stroke with the oars.

Oliver looked over and saw that the other boat had also pushed out, with only slightly less effort.

"The boat is heavy," complained Blathen.

"You've crossed this lake thousands of times," Kestilan sniped.

They rowed the rest of the way in silence, and Oliver did his best not to crush Petunia. It was hard not to put an arm around her, both for balance and because he very much wanted to. He did sigh with relief when the bottom of the boat sc.r.a.ped onto the coa.r.s.e sand of the island, but he didn't think anyone noticed.

Other than Petunia, who gave a small laugh.

"What are you laughing about?" Kestilan turned to help her out of the boat.

"Nothing I'd share with you," she retorted.

She stalked into the palace, Oliver at her heels.

Once inside, she went straight through the main hall and into a smaller corridor. Oliver would have liked to stop and stare: everything was silver and black, blue and violet, muted colors that somehow seemed garish. He could see the resemblance between the decor of the palace and that of the grand d.u.c.h.ess's chalet. It was really quite morbid.

But Petunia did not stop. She didn't stop when a courtier popped out of a room and demanded to know what the to-do across the lake had been about. She didn't stop when a very tall lady in a black lace gown stood in her path and asked what she was doing with an armload of filthy branches like a servant. Petunia just walked around these people, and Oliver stayed with her.

At last she had to stop, because they turned a corner and the King Under Stone was there.

Oliver knew at once who he was, and not just because he wore a jagged black crown. He had long white hair with fine streaks of black, and his face was weirdly ageless: seeming at one moment to be very young, at others, immeasurably old. He stood in the middle of the corridor and stared at Petunia.

"You're back," he said in a hollow voice.

"Yes. I do not wish to marry Grigori," she said. "I don't wish to marry Kestilan, either, but Grigori would be even worse."

"I have promised-"

"I don't care what you promised your mother or your nephew, Alexei," Petunia interrupted. "I'm not going to be given as a prize to the man who tricked me into coming here!"

She waved the silver branches in his face and he flinched and stepped aside. At the end of the corridor she went into a room that was full of women-and not just any women, but her sisters-who all greeted her with cries of delight. Oliver slipped into the room and pressed himself against the wall, and felt Galen brush against his arm as he did the same. One of the princesses shut the door and then braced a chair against it.

"Hush, all of you!" Crown Princess Rose called out. When they had quieted she looked Petunia over. "I was going to ask if you were hurt, but by the look on your face, you have good news for us."

"The very best," Galen said, shrugging off his gray shawl.

"Galen!" The crown princess flung herself into her husband's arms with a glad cry.

The other princesses shrieked and threw themselves at their brother-in-law only a moment later.

"Don't scream so," Petunia said to her sisters in a low but carrying voice. "Rionin was right outside this room."

The others calmed down somewhat, and Petunia came and stood against the wall next to Oliver. Even though he was still invisible, she fumbled until she found his hand and gripped it.

"Is Heinrich with you?" Princess Lily-for Oliver guessed that this was she-put a trembling hand on Galen's arm.

"He's waiting for you at the gate, Lily," Galen said, and embraced her. "You'll be with him to night."

She burst into tears.

"Who's holding hands with Petunia?" The princess with the round spectacles was watching them with a shrewd expression.

Oliver tried to let go of Petunia, but she held on. So he reached up with his other hand and undid the fastening of the cloak. He nodded uncertainly at the princesses, and they all smiled back.

"Oh, good," Poppy said. "We need all the help we can get."

While Petunia told what had happened and Galen explained their plan, they all whittled the silver twigs. They were roughly the length and thickness of knitting needles, but into each one they scratched the name of the King Under Stone.

"Blessed silver will kill any of the princes or courtiers," Galen told Oliver. "But in order to kill the king, you must have his true name on the weapon."

"I could have sworn that I put a bullet into that ... that ... b.a.s.t.a.r.d ten years ago," Lily said as she sc.r.a.ped a long curl of silver from the tip of a twig with one of Oliver's knives.

"I too," Galen said gently. "But unfortunately it was after he was king."

"No, not then," Lily said, and her frantic hands went still. "I shot him. In the boats, as they chased us over the lake. I shot Parian, who had been my partner, and then I shot Rionin for Jonquil. He fell back into the bottom of the boat."

"I remember that," Galen said slowly.

"How did he survive?" Lily looked at Galen, then appealed to Rose and even Oliver, who shrugged uncomfortably. "Illiken was the king then."

Petunia, sitting next to Oliver, suddenly bolted to her feet. "He does have a secret name! I'll wager it protected him!" She pointed at Oliver. "You heard me, out in the pa.s.sageway."

"Alexei?" Oliver had heard her say the name but had had no idea what she was doing. He thought perhaps she was being insulting in Russakan. "His true name is Alexei?"

"His mother wanted to name him Alexei," Petunia said. "She told me that in her heart, she had always thought of him as Alexei."

Jonquil made a sound of disgust. "Are you telling me that I've been scratching the wrong name on all these sticks?"

"Just put Alexei in front of Rionin," Daisy said, and began to do so with the sticks in her lap. "Alexei Rionin Under Stone. A very handsome name."

"Twenty-three years of being my twin and you're just now starting to use sarcasm?" Poppy looked at Daisy for a long minute. "I don't think I like it."

"I don't think I like this," Jonquil said, fingering the scratches she had made in a silver twig. "What if it doesn't work?"

"We're going to seal him inside his precious kingdom as well," Poppy said. "So it doesn't matter if he's dead or not. No nightmares, no shadows in the garden." She sighed. "Won't that be a nice change?"

"But what if it doesn't work?" Jonquil fretted.

"It will work," Galen said. "Walter and the good frau have spent centuries studying magic. They are certain it will work."