“Let me go, you monster!” Petunia spit at him, and a glob of saliva struck the middle of his chest.
He took out a handkerchief and dabbed at it, frowning even deeper. Behind her, Petunia heard the grand duchess suck in a breath in disgust.
“Such unbecoming behavior, Petunia! And what makes you want to leave? You have already admitted you have no love for Kestilan!”
“I want out of this whole horrid place,” Petunia said, panting. She tried for the pistol again.
“I admire your spirit, my petal,” Grigori said, stepping away from her. “But this is ridiculous! I am your betrothed, and you must stop—”
There was a shout and a crash from the front of the house.
Petunia used the distraction to punch Grigori in the stomach, and when he doubled over, she snatched the pistol from his hand. She cocked the hammer but didn’t know whom to aim at. Grigori? The grand duchess? Or the new threat coming down the passage?
The door burst open, slamming into Grigori, who was just straightening, and knocking him to the ground. Standing in the doorway was a man in a wolf mask holding an ax. Petunia made her decision, crossing to the bed and aiming her pistol at the grand duchess, who began to wail and wring her hands.
“Oliver,” Petunia ordered, cutting through the old woman’s wails. “Take care of Grigori, I’ve got my eye on her.”
Grigori started to scramble to his feet as Oliver brought the butt of his pistol down on the back of the prince’s head. Grigori went down like a felled tree, and the grand duchess 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 duchess’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 impassive, 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 passageway to one of the other bedchambers. She had listened unflinching to the screaming and recriminations of the Grand Duchess Volenskaya while Heinrich had checked the old woman’s room for any weapons. He had nailed the window shut before locking the grand duchess 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 passengers, and adding one invisible stowaway would have been dangerous enough, two impossible. Oliver had been prepared to wait on the shore 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 Duchess 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 assumed 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.