“Not a bit,” said Petunia with despair.
“It makes sense that they wouldn’t have clothes and things that could burn, if they’re afraid of fire,” said Hyacinth. “Which is a shame, since we shan’t be able to burn this place to the ground after all.”
The others all stared at her in surprise, and she flushed.
“Well, there must be something around here that burns,” said Lilac, disgruntled.
“I’m not sure that this chair is even really wood,” said Petunia, chipping at the lacquered leg with a fingernail.
“If something did burn, how could they replace it?” Rose pointed out.“I don’t know how the first king created all this, but I doubt Rionin has the power to do the same. There’s no quarry to get new stone, no forests other than the silver wood.”
Petunia’s head snapped up and she blinked at her oldest sister. “The silver wood! Do you think that would burn?”
“It’s silver,” Iris said. “Metal doesn’t burn.” She was rearranging her hair in the dressing-table mirror. “But I do wish we could go across the lake to the forest. I want some knitting needles.”
“What are you going to knit?” Lilac wanted to know. “A nice scarf for Derivos?” Her voice was thick with scorn.
“No,” Iris retorted, “I want something that doesn’t look like a weapon so that they won’t take it away from me, but I could still stab someone with it.”
“I just want clothes that don’t scratch at me,” Jonquil fretted. Her pale skin was red where the lace of the bodice chafed, and she was so thin that the gown hung off her shoulders, though Lily had tried pinning it up as best she could.
“I wonder,” Petunia said, tucking the box of matches into her own bodice and getting to her feet, “if they would let us go over to the wood if we said that we wanted knitting needles.”
“It can’t hurt to ask,” Rose said, her eyes gleaming.
“Someone’s coming,” Lily whispered, and hurried to sit on the end of the bed by Pansy.
The door was thrown open, and at first Petunia wasn’t sure what she was seeing. It looked like a mountain of clothing had come to life and was about to attack them. Then she noticed a high pile of black curls atop the pile—Poppy. And some of the clothing was familiar too.…
“My riding gown!” Pansy leaped up to seize a pale-yellow gown from the middle of the pile.
“Careful!”
Poppy tipped forward and all the gowns spilled on the floor. She came all the way into the room, kicking the pile ahead of her, with Violet on her heels holding a lumpy bundle wrapped in a petticoat.
“The good news,” Poppy said, closing the door behind Violet, “is that Blathen is the worst poker player in the history of the game. I mean, really, Violet and I simply slaughtered him and Telinros.” She smiled at the memory. “The better news is that I won back all our clothes, including our boots, as you can see.” She made an expansive gesture at the pile on the floor, and the bundle that Violet was putting down with greater care.
“If you’re good with numbers, poker isn’t all that difficult,” Violet said. She shook her head over the princes’ lack of skill but couldn’t hide a pleased smile.
The sisters quickly shed their Under Stone gowns and put on their own things. Even Jonquil, the most fashion-minded among them, didn’t complain about wearing a riding habit and boots indoors. Instead, she smiled for the first time since they had arrived, and Poppy hugged her in an uncharacteristic show of affection.
Petunia even tied on her scarlet cloak. She had brought it with her to Rose’s room, not wanting to let it out of her sight. She had been using it as a blanket at night, instead of the thin, slick covers on her bed, which gave off little warmth and smelled like pond water.
Once she was dressed, Pansy looked around nervously at her sisters. “Shall we all go together?”
“Go where?” Poppy looked up from putting Petunia’s pistol in a pocket that tied around her waist under her gown. “Are we going to try to rush out the front door?” She looked rather excited by this idea. “I still say they won’t expect it, always a benefit in any battle.”
“We’re going to ask if we can go to the wood,” Rose said. “And gather twigs to use as knitting needles.”
“And then we’re going to stab Rionin with them,” said Jonquil firmly.
“I love this idea,” announced Poppy. “Let’s all pick a prince, inscribe his name on our needles, and then attack tonight during the ball. If we all strike at the same time, no one will stop us until it’s too late. Then we run for it. If there are ways in, there are ways out.”
Petunia felt a chill at Poppy’s cheerful words. It seemed far too easy. If there was a way in and out, shouldn’t Galen and the others have found it by now? It had been almost five days! At least carrying some kind of weapon would make her feel safer.
So they all trooped out of Rose’s room and down the corridor, until they found where the princes were gathered. Their request to cross the lake was met variously with unease or hilarity, however, until at last Hyacinth’s partner Stavian silenced his brothers with a loud hiss.
“You cannot leave the palace,” he told the princesses.
“If we are to stay here forever, we will need some things,” Rose said evenly.
“You have been given clothing, and your old things were just returned to you,” Telinros said. Petunia noticed that his fists were clenched: he probably had not enjoyed losing to Poppy and Violet.
“I refuse to wear someone else’s stockings,” Lily said with a snap in her voice that Petunia had never heard before. “If I am to be your queen, I will not wear tatty old stockings and garters made to fit some common courtier with elephantine legs!”
Everyone gaped at her. Derivos actually let out a little bray of laughter.
“I don’t know where your clothing comes from,” Lily went on, “or how to get more, but if you provide us with yarn and needles we will make our own. And the best, sharpest needles to be had are taken from the branches of the silver trees across the lake!”
Petunia cringed and just behind her Daisy sucked in her breath loudly. Even Lily’s face had gone rigid, and Petunia knew that her sister had gone too far. The princes would surely guess why they really wanted twigs from the silver wood, now that Lily had reminded them all of what had happened the last time someone had used the silver wood for knitting needles.
“Do you think we are fools?” asked Stavian.
“Princess Rose has made it clear before that she does not find us all that intelligent,” remarked the King Under Stone as he strolled into the room. “Isn’t that right, dear Rose?”
A chill went up Petunia’s back. “Dear Rose” had been the first king’s way of addressing Rose. In the grayish light of the sitting room, Rionin looked even more like his father than he had in the ballroom. She nudged Poppy, whose hand was already hovering near her right leg. Petunia wondered if Poppy had cut a slit in her riding gown so that she could reach a pistol more easily. Poppy moved to the front so that she had a clear view of Rionin.
“What is it that our dear brides wish?” Rionin smiled at them with pointed teeth.
In the days since they had arrived in the Kingdom Under Stone, he had glutted himself on the power from their dancing. His hair shone silver, and his eyes blazed green. He reminded her of someone … not his father, but someone else she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“They want to go to the silver wood to make knitting needles,” said Derivos.
“We need stockings that fit,” said Pansy, her voice little more than a squeak. She was holding Lily’s hand.
“Naturally you do,” said the King Under Stone. “And it would be wise to find something to occupy you during the days. Can’t have you wandering about the palace, plotting mischief, now can we?” His cold eyes fixed on Poppy, and he snapped his long fingers.
In an instant Blathen had leaped at Poppy and wrestled her to the ground. Rose flung herself at him, hammering his back with her fists. Daisy kicked him in the side with her riding boot and shouted for him to let her twin go. Poppy was screaming obscenities and pulling at Blathen’s ears so hard that Petunia, who was frozen in place, thought they might come right off.