Small clumps of cream fell from Penelope’s borrowed gown as she emerged into the space behind the ballroom stairs.

She peered around the edge of the staircase, hoping to find a glimpse of Steph, or the Sisters, yet the dance floor was packed with twirling figures she did not recognise. Beyond them, small groups clustered around the banquet tables, chatting and laughing. In the far corner, attendants were clearing away what seemed to be a collapsed table and piles of upended food.

Penelope’s stomach grumbled at the sight of tray after mountainous tray of delicacies. Skittering around the edge of the hall, Penelope approached the nearest table and began heaping a plate with delicate, flaking pastries, balls of cheesy rice encrusted with seeds, small glazed pies, and a variety of unfamiliar palm sized foods that Penelope was eager to try.

Suddenly parched, Penelope reached for the stem of the nearest flute of fizzing, golden liquid. She drank it down, grateful for the fresh tang of mint and citrus that lingered on her tongue.

Clutching her plate in one hand, and a new flute in the other, Penelope again peered around the room, eyes darting from face to face. She ignored the bewildered, almost admonishing, glances of those nearby as they took in her spoiled skirt and teetering pile of treats.

Penelope still could not see the Sisters. With an inward sigh, she made her way to a nearby arch leading to a softly lit terrace overlooking the south gardens. Penelope breathed a sigh of relief to find herself alone, the few guests who had ventured outside wandering further down the terrace.

Beyond the tidy lines of cultured shrubs and flowering trees, several structures of bone marble staggered up the steep cliffside, bridging the gauzy crest of the Great Fall. The air was cool with river mist, and she welcomed the steady crash of water that eased the ache in her mind.

Setting her plate down on the balustrade, she gulped down her second flute, this one tasting of strawberry and jasmine, and began eating with euphoric relish. She hadn’t realised how hungry she was, having been too anxious throughout the day to eat a full meal.

Had she not spent so many tears in the past few hours, Penelope could have wept at the flavours of each new appetiser. The pies were rich and succulent, the flaking pastries sweet with layers of honey-baked nuts. She had just finished a crispy crescent of pumpkin and spiced lentils when a polite cough had her spinning to face the ballroom archway.

Penelope froze at the sight of Prince Ethan stalking slowly towards her, unmasked and dressed in the sharp lines of a regal suit similar in design to Steph’s. Glancing around, Penelope realised she was still alone but for a few distant strollers much further down the arcade.

Cringing against the balustrade, her back pressed against the hard stone, she opened her mouth to speak, or perhaps to shout out, when Ethan stopped and held up placating hands.

“Apologies, Your Highness, I did not intend to startle.”

Penelope blew out a breath before inclining a slow nod, her heart still racing.

Ethan tilted his head, regarding her for long moments in silence. Penelope said nothing, regarding him in return. She felt like prey fixed under the gaze of a cat that had yet to decide the strength of its appetite.

And yet… the prickling itch beneath her skin reminded her that she, too, could cast a predator’s shadow…

The phantom sensation of sharpened teeth steeled her spine under his scrutiny, and she met his gaze steadily.

Eventually, he curled his lip in a smirk.

“It would seem our thanks are owed to you, for your interventions this evening. Our Ranger would not have survived without your actions.”

Penelope narrowed her eyes at the slight frost in his tone which undermined the sincerity of his words, puzzling at his true intent.

“I was glad to assist,” Penelope returned. “It would seem congratulations are in order for your… victory… this evening.”

Ethan grinned then, inclining his head with a wry baring of teeth.

Penelope felt unutterably exhausted. She was tired of concealed agendas and guarded words. All she wanted was to speak with Steph, find the Sisters, and return home to the cottage in the woods.

“What is it that you want?” Penelope was aware her question was brusque, discourteous even, yet she could not muster the will to care. Nor did Ethan seem offended. Instead, he leaned his weight against the jade-threaded stone of a nearby pillar and crossed his arms loosely across his chest. The movement emphasised the club holstered to his hip, yet no threat seemed implied.

“I wanted to speak with you. To get the measure of you for myself.” Ethan spoke candidly, his gaze assessing. He cocked an eyebrow at the cake stain on her skirt. “That is not the gown you wore earlier…”

Penelope scoffed at his haughty disregard, feeling irate. Who was this ruthless, arrogant prince to cast judgement against her, treat her with such unwarranted disdain, after all the harm he had wrought? Penelope’s exhaustion sharpened her tongue.

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“Nor is that the uniform you wore. Are we here to measure stains of jam against blood?”

Ethan hissed air between his teeth, amusement gone. “You speak boldly, Princess. Tell me, what do you know of blood? You saw enough of my brother’s spilled, certainly.”

Penelope gulped, feeling warmth drain from her cheeks as her chest went cold.

“Ethan.” Steph emerged seemingly from the shadows and prowled towards his brother, who stood up straight, regarding Steph with an inscrutable expression.

“What happened in the Darkwood was not Penelope’s fault. I’ve told you that a hundred times. She saved my life—”

“You would not have needed saving had you not disregarded my every warning and gone traipsing off into the Darkwood with a foolish girl—”

Penelope bristled at the slight, frowning at Ethan as the brothers sparred back and forth.

“I would not have needed saving if the Darkwood had no cause to bear such animosity towards our family… for your actions!” Steph shouted.

Ethan opened his mouth, before snapping it shut with a click of teeth. Steph looked for a moment as if he regretted his words, but then clenched his jaw in resolve. Ethan breathed in sharply through his nose for a moment before speaking, his voice low and gruff. Almost wounded. “You still do not understand.”

Penelope watched wordlessly as the brothers glared at each other, expressions injured and beseeching.

Ethan squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, his shoulders bowed as though in defeat, before he turned his gaze once more on Penelope. Steph shifted towards her, as if to shield her from his stare.

Ethan’s eyes blazed with pain, with confusion, with grim determination. Finally, his posture softened and he offered a clipped bow.

“You have the thanks of House Grimwood once again, Princess. I shall take my leave. Good evening.”

Ethan regarded Steph one last time, his gaze hard and loaded with meaning that Penelope could not fathom.

Steph stared back, his mouth downturned and brow furrowed in unhappy lines. “We’ll speak later.” Steph’s voice was quiet and uncertain. Ethan nodded and strode away, disappearing through an arch further down the terrace.

“Are you alright?” Steph asked, his expression shifting to concern as he stepped towards her.

Penelope nodded, then shrugged, feeling sluggish and exhausted by the night’s events.

“I’m sorry about him. He had no right to speak to you that way.”

“He wasn’t exactly wrong…” Guilt gnawed at Penelope’s gut as she thought of Ethan’s accusations, even as Steph shook his head with a sigh of protest. She had traipsed into the woods, her whole life, heedless to its dangers. Dangers she had exposed Steph to with careless wanderings. It was only by the mercy of a miracle and sheer force of will that he had not died in the maw of the Darkwood.

Penelope shuddered and Steph wrapped his arms around her. She lay her cheek against his chest, sagging her weight against him. “There’s so much I need to tell you.”

As Penelope spoke, recounting her conversation with her parents in quiet tones, Steph held her ever tighter. She hesitated for a brief moment, certain that her parents would not wish her to divulge their most terrible secret… Their deliberate inaction preceding the Battle at Great Fall.

Yet… what did she owe her family now? What loyalty was she obligated to keep, when her parents had only ever been loyal to their own designs? Never to her…

And so Penelope told Steph everything, his breath hitching and arms stiff as they crushed her against him.

“They truly stood by and… and chose not to even warn us… This…” Steph whispered, voice thick with horror. “This could mean war, Penelope. If my father knew, if Ethan…”

“I’m sorry,” Penelope sighed, biting at her lip. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for what they’ve done—” Penelope’s voice cracked with shame, “—I’m sorry to put you in such a terrible position now, with this knowledge. I only… I wish to be completely truthful with you, Steph.”

Steph nodded, his chin brushing the crown of her head. “I’m glad you told me… I…” Steph swallowed as he remained quiet for several long heartbeats. “I will need to think about what to do with this. I’m not sure how to even begin to… to understand…”

“Of course,” Penelope pulled back and looked up into Steph’s face, his gaze lost and unfocused. In that moment she felt viciously bitter for the burdens the Starwoods had placed on them. “I understand, and I support whatever you choose to do. I no longer see the Starwoods, or at least my parents, as my family. I don’t trust them. I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t blame you at all, Penelope. You had no part in their actions.”

Penelope shook her head and buried her face against his chest, the burn of shame stinging her heart all the same.

“Do you believe they’ve been truthful with you tonight?” Steph asked. “Do you trust what they’ve told you?”

“I… don’t know. I don’t believe they lied to me, but I do believe they told me the truths they wished me to hear to keep me walking the path they’ve laid at my feet. I don’t think I’ll ever trust them to tell me the complete truth…” Penelope swallowed against the sadness, the betrayal, in her chest as Steph nodded.

“That I also understand,” Steph lamented, gaze distant as he stared towards the arch through which Ethan had departed.

Steph gave Penelope a sad, crooked smile and cupped her cheek. Pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, he withdrew and looked down at her with an honest happiness, despite the shadows of worry and grief that lingered in his eyes. Penelope smiled in return, glad to bask in the steady comfort of Steph’s affection and kindred understanding, and allow some of the darkness in her heart to dissipate.

His eyes roved her dress, gaze landing on her skirt. “Perhaps you will tell me the tale of how you came to wear this most… edible… gown?”

Penelope laughed and told him of her encounter with Princess Ivy. “It sounds as though Prince Tristan tripped over his own feet and landed all and sundry in a banquet table.”

“Did he now, how clumsy…” Steph’s eyes glinted with knowing mischief and Penelope gasped.

“And what might you know of Prince Tristan’s clumsiness?”

Steph grinned, a feral smirk that was answer in itself.

“Prince Stephan Graham Seth,” Penelope scolded, though her words were punctuated by riotous laughter. “You didn’t!”

“Exactly correct, Princess. I did nothing, I know nothing, I saw nothing, and we shall never speak of it again. Although… I don’t believe Tristan’s hair looked quite so shiny with jelly in it.”

Penelope doubled over, howling with mirth and clutching at Steph’s forearm for support. As she recovered, her laughter subsiding to hiccoughing giggles, Steph drew Penelope into a lazy waltz.

It was then, as they spun across the path of light streaming from an archway, that Penelope’s eye caught on Steph’s breast pocket. There was a square of floral, embroidered cloth tucked neatly into it, which seemed so very familiar.

“Oh, that’s mine!”