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“You,” Thicket breathed. “The cat wasn’t working for Lavender. It was working for you.”

“Very good.”

“Why?”

“I have seen a many futures, Wildfire Princess,” the Teller of Omens said. “Lifetimes worth. However your future has been most intriguing. There were many routes your fate could have taken you. Many paths it could still take you depending on how you choose to fulfill the prophecy.”

“But I already fulfilled it.”

“I am afraid not. The prophecy will not be satisfied by simply overtaking the Apparent Heir to the Throne. Your family’s power was given under the condition that it was used justly. The prophecy warned what would happen should any member of your bloodline fail to meet those requirements. If your blood cannot prove true, your power will die with you.”

“So that is it? My sister let her heart blacken and everyone else has to pay?”

“Your sister tipped the balance of good within the Vogeli bloodline. Only an act of good can set it back. We tried to give her that very chance, however she squandered it.”

“My sister,” Thicket said, unable to wrap her mind around the impossibility of it. “My sister came here?”

“Yes. Troubled Princess, Thirteenth Descendent, Apparent Heir to the Throne.”

“But… That’s impossible. How could she be pure of heart after all the terrible things she has done?”

“Being pure does not always mean being good, Wildfire Princess.”

“Who do you think gave her the Sleeping Curse?” the second voice said, still lurking in the shadows.

Thicket’s blood ran cold. “You… You gave her that awful curse?”

“It wasn’t meant for you,” the second voice spat, its forked tongue flicking furiously. “It was meant for her. She abused it, the deceitful little—”

“Now, now, Shedder of Skin.” The Tricker of Thoughts emerged from the shadows next, those sharp canines gleaming mischievously. “We mustn’t give into anger.” It mimicked the Shedder of Skin hissing s sounds.

Shedder of Skin finally slithered into the light to glare at the fox. It was a snake. Its scales were a light teal blue. Like all the other animals, it also had wings. They were colored like stained glass, starting with hues of blue to match its body before darkening to a rich magenta at the tips. “Do not mock me.”

She had only met the Seeker of Souls and the Tricker of Thoughts during the trial, but had the tests been orchestrated by any of the others?

“Ignore them,” the Teller of Omens purred.

Thicket tore her gaze from the bickering pair. “I don’t understand. What do you mean it was meant for her?”

“We saw the Troubled Princess spiraling down a dark path, forged by the misgivings of others,” the Seeker of Souls said. “One that could potentially lead to her enacting the prophecy. So we gave her the curse as a chance to mend herself before it became too late.”

“You see,” the Teller of Omens said, “the Sleeping Curse was never designed to punish but to act as a mirror, reflecting the broken pieces of her soul.”

“She was supposed to come to terms with who she was and mend her blackening heart,” the Shedder of Skin said.

“But fate didn’t want it that way,” sang the Tricker of Thoughts.

“Before she had a chance to use it,” the Seeker of Souls continued, “your parents told her she would never be queen, and it was an act that set her down the path of evil. She morphed the curse into a weapon, though it was never designed to be. She found a loophole, tethering something inanimate to the curse, and through that object, she could control you, morph the curse into what she willed, instead of letting it decide for itself.”

Thicket knew what that object had been.

Knew it in the very pit of her bones.

Knew it in the way the smell was forever engraved in her nose.

Lavender. Not the person, but the flower.

“If she had taken our offer and healed her soul and not given into jealousy and hatred, she might have been the one to save Vindrya from ruin.”