North took a deep breath. “It suppresses your magic so that other wizards aren’t able to detect it.”

“What else?” I demanded. His eyes fell to the ground, as if he couldn’t bear to look at me.

“I put a spell on the bracelet to tie you to me. You won’t be able to go more than a certain distance away from me.”

“So I’m your slave after all, then? Only now you’ve added the chain.”

“That’s not true!” he said sharply. “I put it on you so you couldn’t be carried away or hurt by another wizard!”

“Which makes me nothing more than your property,” I said. “Property you don’t want anyone else to use before you can.”

“Is that really your opinion of me? Do you think I’m some kind of monster, that that’s the only way I think about you?”

“No, but you think I’m a monster,” I said. “To be toyed with and manipulated. How dare you treat me this way? You’re no better than Dorwan!”

Even as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. North took a step back, his face hardening into fury.

“You’re cruel, Sydelle,” he said, his voice a whisper.

“I’m right,” I said. I held out my arm, the bracelet a symbol of his betrayal. “Take it off.”

“No,” he said. “Never.”

There was a part of me that realized he was right, that by taking it off I would be opening myself up to the possibility of hurting someone else when my magic got out of control, especially as upset as I was. Still, I felt as if the bracelet was on fire, and I couldn’t get it off my arm fast enough. That was all I wanted, to be rid of any signs that he had been in my life.

I pulled my hand back to slap him, but he caught my wrist and pushed me back against the closest pillar.

“Let me go!” I cried, landing a hard blow to his gut.

“Not until you’ve calmed down!” he said desperately. “Sydelle, please listen!”

A third voice joined ours.

“Let that girl go immediately!” Pompey stepped out from the shadows. His lush purple robe billowed out behind him as he strode toward us. “I said, release her!”

“This is none of your business, Pompey,” North snarled. “I didn’t realize you made rounds down in the undercroft.”

“And I didn’t realize you were both a vagrant and a brute,” Pompey said. “Release her now, North, or I’ll have the queen throw you in the dungeons for all eternity. Do you think you’ll ever see her then?”

North’s grip faltered, and I wrenched myself free.

“Come with me,” Pompey said softly. I walked stiffly over to him, taking his offered arm with an overwhelming sense of relief.

“Syd!” North choked out. “Don’t!” I felt his fingertips brush my back as Pompey and I turned to go.

“Stay where you are!” Pompey barked. “I’ll be back to deal with you later, but in the meantime you will not speak to or touch this girl again!” His narrow face looked down on me with concern.

“The queen sent me to find you,” he said by way of explanation. “You don’t have to worry—you’re safe now.”

I nodded, and Pompey led me out of the undercroft, ignoring North’s furious yells.

“Sydelle! SYDELLE!”

Pompey brought me not to my own room, but to the queen’s wing of the castle.

“Where are we going?” I asked. “Why—?”

“The queen has requested your presence this evening.”

“The queen?” I echoed. “Please, not now—”

“She wishes to converse with you. She’s expressed interest in hearing your story.”

At any other time, the prospect of speaking to the queen of Palmarta would have filled me with excitement. Now, I felt hollow. My cheeks were still hot and flushed from my tears, and my throat was so raw I could barely breathe. How could I face the devastatingly beautiful queen now?

“Miss Mirabil,” Pompey said sharply. “I don’t think I need to tell you that it is very improper to turn down a personal invitation from the queen.”

“Please…,” I said weakly, but it was too late. Pompey held my arm a little too tightly as he escorted me down the hallway.

The four guards outside the queen’s chamber parted as we approached. Pompey knocked twice, and a high, feminine voice replied, “Enter!”

The first thing that caught my eyes in the airy space wasn’t the bright tapestry, nor the intricately painted wall and ceiling panels, but a table of four ladies playing a game of cards, one of them the young queen, wearing her crown.

Pompey cleared his throat loudly. The other ladies ceased their conversation, turning to stare at us with great interest.

“Oh, you’re here! How wonderful!” the queen cried, her voice high and girlish. She came toward us at once, her long yellow dress flowing out behind her. “You look positively dreadful—is everything all right?”

“Fine, now,” I managed to squeeze out. I held out my hand, but she only stared at it. I pulled it back and tucked it in my skirt.

“Your Majesty, may I present Miss Sydelle Mirabil,” Pompey said. I curtsied clumsily, keeping my eyes low to the ground.

This close to her, I could see just how truly flawless she was, her eyes a shade of blue so brilliant that it seemed almost unnatural. She was smooth lines and pale skin all over. She watched me, never once betraying what she was thinking. I curtsied again, unsure of what she expected of me.