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“Did she?” William shrugs.

“Rumor and conspiracy theories,” Zara says. She glares at William. “And don’t even think of lighting that up in my kitchen.”

He is heading out the door to the garden when a small figure comes flying into the kitchen, screaming.

“Help! Help me, please!”

Hazel’s face is streaked with tears and there are scratches on her wrists and arms. She’s still wearing the fake stomach under a white, torn nightdress. Without the heels and the padded dress, she looks so much younger than she did at the party.

Zara gasps. I feel my mouth hanging open. I want to run to her, I want to shout her name, but I’m frozen with shock. How did she get here? How did she get out?

“Stop her!” another voice cries, and suddenly Cora runs into the room, her arm in a sling, two Regimentals on her heels. Hazel pelts in my direction, and my arms instinctively reach for her, but William grabs her around the chest.

“Let me go!” Hazel cries. Her eyes lock on mine. “She’s trying to kill me. She’s trying to kill me!”

“Five, Three, take her back to the medical room right now,” Cora commands. Hazel is struggling against William’s grasp.

I stand there, wide-eyed, feeling paralyzed and helpless. What do I do? Who is trying to kill her? Is she talking about the Electress?

The two Regimentals wrangle my sister out of William’s grasp. She bites Five’s hand and he swears.

“Calm down,” Cora says. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

Hazel spits in her face as they drag her away, wrenching her head around to meet my gaze one more time.

“She’s trying to kill me,” she says, her eyes flickering back to Cora. I hear her scream it one more time, her voice echoing over the stone floors, before it fades. Then she’s gone.

The four of us left in the kitchen are stunned into stillness.

Zara clears her throat. “I’d suggest we all forget what we just saw here,” she says.

Clara goes back to scrubbing pots with renewed fervor and William hurries out the door to smoke. I continue to stand stock-still, dumbstruck. Hazel was right here and I did nothing. I’ve never felt so useless.

She’s trying to kill me. And she looked at Cora when she said it.

Is Cora trying to hurt my sister? Then why save her life at the party?

“Imogen?”

I start. One of the footmen hovers in the doorway, looking nervous.

“Yes?”

He holds out a letter.

“This just came for Coral. From the Royal Palace.”

I numbly take the cream-colored envelope from him. Coral’s name is written in elegant script, in golden ink.

I bring it to her chambers in a daze, not seeing where I’m going, not focusing on anything but the image of my sister’s tearstained face, her last words still echoing in my ears.

When Coral arrives home hours later from the funeral, I give it to her and she rips it open eagerly.

“‘My dearest Coral,’” she reads aloud. “‘We would love to have you and your husband over for lunch in three days’ time at two o’clock. My deepest sympathies again on the loss of your father-in-law. We must all remain strong in these troubling times. Please send your reply back as soon as possible. All the very best, The Electress.’” She presses the letter to her heart. “How wonderful! We must respond right away, as she says. I’ve never received a personal invitation to the Royal Palace before!”

She quickly writes a response and gives me the letter to post. I find one bright spot in this situation—a trip to the Royal Palace means I get to see Lucien. I need his advice and guidance more than ever.

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