She knew that the ruse would mean little to Kestilan, since Rionin was not even deterred by Lily’s marriage to Heinrich. But she wanted to give them something to chew on. Kestilan wasn’t the only man interested in her, after all. There was Oliver, and Prince Grigori …
Prince Grigori, who had clearly led them into the forest for the sole purpose of sending Petunia to the Kingdom Under Stone. She had been right: he was in league with Rionin. But what had he been promised to make him do such a thing? Petunia had been certain that he truly liked her; why would he give her up to Kestilan? And why not capture Lily instead?
“This betrothed of yours, what is his name?” The freakishly tall lady asked.
Petunia opened her mouth to say Oliver’s name, and a face flashed before her eyes. Prince Alfred, their horsey-looking second cousin, who had come to solve the mystery of their worn-out slippers when she was just a little girl. Come to solve the mystery and died for his efforts, so that the first King Under Stone could show the sisters the power of his displeasure. Alfred’s face, blurred by time, was followed by other blurry images: a Belgique prince who had tried to spy on Rose while she was ill, a foppish Spanian with more luggage than all twelve sisters put together. All dead now, because of the King Under Stone. And, to be honest, because of Petunia and her sisters.
“I’m not going to tell you,” Petunia said, not caring if she sounded childish. “The king will probably try to kill him.”
“Probably?” The women all shrieked with laughter as their tall leader leaned over Petunia. “There is no ‘probably’ about it. You and all your sisters need to be taught a lesson about where you belong, and whom you belong to.” The woman’s long nose was almost touching Petunia’s now.
“I don’t belong to anyone,” Petunia said, gripping her cloak in both hands and resisting the urge to pull out her pistol and shoot the woman. “But if I do marry Kestilan, I shall order you flogged in the middle of the ballroom as a wedding gift.”
“Marrying one of the princes does not give you the right …”
“Are you completely sure of that?” Petunia raised one eyebrow at the woman. “I can hardly see the king objecting. Rionin strikes me as one who would enjoy that sort of thing.”
The woman’s face paled under her heavy powder, and Petunia knew she had struck a nerve. Petunia smiled at the woman, who was the one to take a step back this time.
“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 passed. “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 scraped 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 assured 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?”