A day later, Penelope overheard an argument between the Sisters. Marmalade had taken Marmot on a venture to the Faewood. Steph was dozing by the fire, and Penelope had crept up the stairs to fetch a sketchbook from her room, intending to draw designs for their ball gowns. Keeping her footsteps light so as to avoid disturbing Steph with the creaking of wood, she paused on the landing when she heard sharp voices carry through from the Sisters’ bedroom.

“—don’t like it, Heels. The whole thing feels off. Maybe we shouldn’t let her go—”

“We can’t keep her from going if she wants to, you know how much she wants to see her parents again. How excited she is for this ball.”

“I know, it’s just, what we saw with the Grimwood Rangers and the forest... you weren’t there, love. It was... sinister. Unnatural.” There was a pause before Sister Rosin spoke again, voice resolute. “I don’t want her to have anything to do with them. Grimwood, or their Rangers, or their creepy Royal family... I don’t want her near them.”

“I know, I understand, I do, but—”

“I know,” Sister Rosin grumbled. “I know she’s not ours, I know it’s not our choice, I just wish—”

“I know, me too.”

The voices faded, replaced by the sound of soft kisses, and Penelope stole back down the stairs towards the kitchen. She sat heavily in a chair, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes to hold back her tears.

She loathed causing the Sisters so much stress when she wasn’t even theirs. If they hadn’t had to take care of her, raise her in the isolated forest, would they have had a family of their own? A family unburdened by blind sacrifices? Penelope felt a deep and familiar ache in her chest, the feeling that she didn’t deserve them. They certainly didn’t deserve the grief she caused.

“Hey.” Steph’s voice was gentle as he eased into the seat across from Penelope, a thick knitted blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

Penelope smiled at him, brushing at the few tears that had escaped.

“What’s wrong?” Steph’s brow was knitted with concern.

“I just... I’m not sure what I should do now.” Penelope huffed, her thoughts a tangle of conflict. At Steph’s puzzled look, she elaborated.

“The Sisters... they’re worried about me going to the Dark Moon Ball in Grimwood, after everything we saw in the forest...” Penelope trailed off with a sigh as Steph winced. “They want me to be distant from it all. And I don’t blame them. In a way, I want to keep away, too. But I also want to know what’s going on, what those Rangers and their Prince were doing. It was so awful, the forest was so... wounded.”

Steph frowned at a knot in the wood. “What do you mean... wounded? I rather thought it had done the wounding.” Steph breathed a shaky laugh.

Penelope winced at the twinge of guilt in her chest. “I’m sorry, Steph. I’m so sorry you were hurt. The forest, it... it’s like it was lashing out. It was furious and so... so sad. I’ve never felt a sadness like that before.” Penelope fell quiet, recalling the wild storm of feeling with a shudder. “It’s like the woods were acting in retaliation for what those Rangers had done and picked an innocent target instead... It wasn’t fair to you.”

Steph was quiet for long moments, digesting her words. “The forest listened to you,” he said at last. “Marmalade told me what happened. How you, I don’t know, shouted at the forest and made it heal me?”

Penelope quirked her lips in a grimace. “I usually ask nicely for what I need, but I’d say the occasion called for a bit of a shout.”

Steph grinned, the corners of his eyes creasing. “I can’t thank you enough. It’s amazing, what you did. The forest doesn’t even listen to Marmalade quite like that. At least, the way she tells it. But it listened to you...” Steph looked at her with awe. Penelope felt her cheeks heat under his gaze.

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“I’ve spent a lot of time wandering these trails,” she mused. “I suppose I’ve learned to speak with the woods. And to listen. The forest has always guided me. Protected me, and given me what I needed. I’ve always offered what I can in return. I hate that the forest hurt you, but I’m so grateful she healed her poison.” Penelope sagged forward, resting her chin in the palm of her hand.

Steph nodded, his brow creased with thought. “My mother taught me to respect the forests and the mysteries that live in them. She’s from Wildwood, you see. They have a lot of folk histories about these woods. She’s always told me to tread with caution. Perhaps even a little superstition. Some of the stories she’s told me are a little unbelievable.” Steph smiled brightly at a memory before his expression became rueful. “I suppose I believe them better now... Though even with her love of the forest, she fears the deep Darkwood. And my brothers, they’ve always spoken of these woods—the Darkwood especially—like it’s the most dangerous place a person could go.”

Steph smile became strained. “I always thought it sounded like a wonderful place to go exploring. To find adventure. I guess I never took any of it all that seriously. Not seriously enough, anyway.”

Penelope watched as Steph’s eyes shifted across the table while he spoke, quietly and almost to himself. He brushed a stray curl from his eyes with a small huff, flicking his gaze to Penelope. “You speak of the forest like it’s... a sentient creature. An intelligent being whose trust can be earned. And lost, too, I suppose...”

“That’s what it feels like, yes. Like...” Penelope struggled to find the words for the depth of mourning she had felt. “It’s like the Rangers were cutting away pieces of the forest’s heart, stealing away things it cherished, things it had made. Things, life, that belonged to the forest. And the forest was powerless to prevent any of it from being taken away...” Penelope shivered at the memory of the Darkwood’s wrathful keening. “The Rangers, they weren’t just... hunting game in the woods. It’s like they were... butchering the forest’s soul. It felt so wrong.”

Steph flinched and looked away, his expression pained and anxious. “And so now... you want to stay away from Grimwood. And from—” Steph cleared his throat, his words tentative. “And from the people who live there?”

Penelope reached across the table to twine their fingers together, shaking her head. “I couldn’t hold all of Grimwood accountable, that would hardly be fair. Just.. perhaps... I don’t know. Maybe I should stay away from the ball, and the Rangers, and the Royal politics... Maybe I should just stay out here in the woods forever after all.” Penelope sighed through her nose.

Steph smiled, though the corners of his mouth quivered.

“But I do want to see my family again. If I don’t go to the ball, I may never get another chance to see them. And if I can get some sense of what’s going on, maybe I could do something to stop the forest from hurting so much. But...”

Penelope took a steadying breath before continuing. “But I also don’t want to leave the woods behind. It feels like a part of myself, a part of my own beating heart. The idea of leaving, of being away from the forest... it makes me feel almost ill. And so what if I go to the ball, and then my parents decide to marry me off to a Grimwood prince and I have to live in a faraway castle and leave the Faewood behind forever?”

Penelope broke off the rapid tumble of words, her breathing shallow. She forced herself to take deep, slow inhales, the way Sister Heely had taught her after her childhood night terrors.

Steph moved around the table and cradled her shoulders, smoothing a hand through her hair and whispering reassurances as she calmed down.

Penelope rested her cheek against Steph’s chest, breathing in the scent of newly washed linen and the spiced florals of healing tinctures. She thought of the vision she had witnessed in Whistleweather’s workshop. She had seen herself dancing with a dark silhouette. A prince, or so she had assumed. That vision, that giddy promise of everything she had ever wanted, seemed now laced with a sinister sort of portent.

“Your parents, they...” Steph trailed off. Penelope couldn’t see Steph’s face, but there was cautious tension in his voice as he continued. “Would they truly marry you to someone against your will? Would they not take your own choices into account?”

Penelope huffed a laugh, a bitter, mirthless sound that scratched at her throat. “They never have before. I have no idea what their intentions are for me now, or if they even have any at all...”

In truth, the thought now of dancing with that mysterious prince, of finding a marriage match at the ball, filled her with dread. The irony of it physically ached. Steph brushed his thumb over her hand as Penelope fought to swallow down the insensible giggles ripping from her chest.

“Be careful what you wish for, I suppose,” she muttered as her laughter subsided. Indeed, hadn’t that been the hard lesson of the past few days? Penelope drew back, peering into Steph’s face as he crouched by her chair.

“What would you wish for now?” Steph asked, his dark eyes intense as he searched her face. They watched each other for a long moment, the quiet stretched and taut. The tension snapped as Penelope released a hard breath.

“I don’t know... but...” Penelope leaned forward until her forehead rested against his. “I do know that I don’t want to lose... this.”

Steph sighed, a soft shaky sound, as he leaned into the touch and held her close.