Flint went so still he could’ve been a statue. No, the shadow of a statue. Faded into the background and gone with the disappearance of sunshine.

Like his existence.

But, Flint wasn’t someone who simply faded away just because the world was moving at its own pace around him.

Em watched in fascination as he wrapped a hand around the back of Madeline’s head. Kissing the Crown Princess of Cyrin firmly. Tears sparkled down Madeline’s cheeks as she returned the kiss, holding his shirt with desperation.

When it was over, he pressed his forehead to her’s.

“Whatever that bastard is, I won’t sully your honor. But if there’s anything else you ever need from me, you need only to ask.”

Madeline’s eyes were closed as she nodded wordlessly.

Flint finally stood, leaving Madeline to sit alone and forlorn on the gazebo step. Occasionally choking on a sob.

Em only had to wait a few minutes before a servant hurriedly retrieved the sickly princess. Then she was free to return to the ballroom.

Utterly perturbed.

Had Madeline Dulce always been in love with Flint Grimshaw? In “The Lost Prince”, Madeline had seemed like a love-struck teenage desperate for Thiago’s love. Which had disgusted Maddie to no end. Especially when Thiago betrayed the woman, and she still pleaded for his love to her last breath.

But, then again, everything had been painted from Thiago’s viewpoint.

And Thiago was sure the world was shaped for his existence.

Maybe the original Madeline only begged for Thiago’s love because, originally, Flint had died early in the story.

That made sense.

Broken-hearted, Madeline had clung to the only thing left to her. The man who eventually gave her children… and didn’t live to see him take them away.

Em’s heart throbbed painfully.

She felt so helpless. What was the point of understanding all of this when she could do nothing about it?

She’d barely stepped into the ballroom when Lady Eileen spotted her. With such a look of horror, Em looked down at herself. Just to make sure she hadn’t been stabbed or something.

Only to realize why Eileen looked like fainting.

Her dress was covered in dirt, and two bows dangled cheerfully from ragged threads.

Oh, no.

***

Loki howled with laughter.

“It’s not funny!”

Em groaned and covered her face. It had been a long, embarrassing night.

Most noble ladies bring a backup dress, Em found out. But not Em, who could barely scrape together one. Seemed about right. What ended up happening was Aunt Eileen rushed her into a side room and tried to clean off the worst of it.

The bows came off alright. But the dirt…

Eileen was not happy about leaving early and Em had to endure lectures until her ears felt like bleeding.

Still… Em wasn’t unhappy about having to leave hours earlier than anyone else.

“The problem is, is this makes Flint look bad.” She lay on her bed, stomach down and kicking her legs as she talked to Loki. Who was sitting on her pillow. “And I didn’t get to dance with him.”

Her shoulders drooped.

Loki was still shaking with laughter, but he had the decency to reach out a shapeless slime arm and pat her shoulder.

“Poor Em.”

With that, he snorted several times on suppressed laughter and had to turn away quickly.

Em rolled her eyes and put down her head.

“Stop it! It’s not funny!”

“My dear human child, if you can’t laugh at your mistakes, then you’ll become as tight as a screw.”

“Screws hold things together. That’s not a bad thing.”

“If that’s what you need to do. But if what you need is flexibility, then all you’ll do is break yourself.”

Em made a face into the bed but didn’t argue. When she made a mistake and totally embarrassed herself, she needed flexibility to bounce back.

At least Em and Emmaline were both mature enough to accept that.

With a sigh, she sat up.

“That’s not the only thing that happened.”

While she told Loki about the forbidden kiss, the sky outside flashed. Followed a few beats later by the rumble of lightning.

“I just wish I could do something for them,” she said. Pulling her legs up and leaning on them. She sighed in frustration. “It isn’t fair!”

“Why can’t you do something?”

Em glared at him like he was an idiot.

“I’m being serious, child. Why can’t you do anything for them? You’re smart, you know things you shouldn’t, and you’re technically partially an adult.”

“Here, I’m firmly a child.” She held up a finger and continued to hold them up as she talked. “I have no money, no influence, and no connections at all. What I know is practically useless to me, except to stay out of the way. And one thing I know is Thiago is practically a god unless the right person faces him.”

“All gods have weaknesses.”

“But not ones that will stop or kill him.”

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“Whoever said you had to do that? Can’t you just throw some mountains in his way?”

“And now we’re back at the fact that I have no resources. Not even you! You’re a god and the best you can do is trip him. And even then it can’t be down the stairs.”

“You’re right. I cannot directly harm anyone. It's against my nature and the laws of the gods. And what little I can do is limited. But, child, you’re looking at this wrong.”

Em snorted. “Really? How so?”

“You keep asking yourself why you can’t. You’ll always find answers to the questions you ask, so start asking what you can do. What is Emmaline Grimshaw in a unique position to do? What is going on that might be helpful? Eventually, if not right away?”

Em bit her lip. It was a stupid game, but what else did she have?

“Fine. Um.” She looked up at the ceiling. Lightning lit it up briefly. “I guess something that might help is Prince Asher is alive. At least when I was dreaming about him I could heal him.”

That made her even more depressed. Her one loophole was gone.

“But we don’t even know if he’s the one who can stand against Thiago.”

Loki snorted.

“You were brought back here by a goddess and had a connection to the boy. Do you really doubt he's the one?”

Em hesitated.

“No. I don't.”

“Good. What else?”

“…And I guess it's also a good thing that Thiago doesn’t know who he’s looking for. Or where to look.”

“Very well. That’s two things in our favor. What else?”

“I don’t know! Argh!”

Em flopped backward, staring up at the ceiling with tears in her eyes.

Loki squirmed up to pat her head.

“Sometimes the things we need most are what we are most blind to. Go to sleep, human child. Perhaps the answer will come by tomorrow.”

“Are you sure you’re the god of mischief?” asked Em dryly.

“That is what humans have called me. Now, no more talking. Bed.”

As Em curled up to sleep, she thought about the conversation.

Why Em?

Why had the goddess put so much effort to bring Em here?

What did Em have that could possibly help?

As though to prove his status as a god of mischief, the next morning at breakfast Aunt Eileen tore off her third pair of gloves for the day. Flinging them at her maid.

Big, brown spots had appeared in the middle of the back of her hands. Where neither she nor anyone else had touched. Nor had she touched the gloves to anything.

The best part was there was no one to blame. Because Eileen made absolutely certain that pair (and the second pair) both were completely white when she put them on.

Not that she didn’t try blaming her poor maid. Em calmly pointed out the problems with it, earning herself a death glare.

Lady Eileen decided to forego gloves for the day. Since they weren’t going out.

Em had little time to think about her dilemma because Eileen started etiquette lessons almost as soon as the child woke up. Literally. She read to Em as she bathed and dressed, made Em balance a book on her head as she walked to breakfast, and grilled her on what utensils to use with which part of the meals.

It was as though Eileen was determined to smash five years worth of lessons into Em’s head within two days.

Partly it made sense. Because the first of their daily engagements would start with the royal hunting party.

And partly it made little sense, because Em spent most of that time controlling her rising temper and frustration rather than learning.

It was with despair that she got ready for the hunting party three mornings after the ball.

At least the dress was halfway decent. She could move and breathe in it, though she longed for pants. And, because they were outside, Lady Eileen had switched it for something that would mostly hide dirt.

Fortunately, it was fairly easy to adjust the new dress, otherwise the poor maid in charge of all the adjustments wouldn’t have made it.

“What do you think?” she asked Loki glumly.

Glad that Tracy had to leave for a moment so she could talk to him.

“About what?”

“Do I look alright? Will I make things worse for Flint?”

The slime’s body rippled as he laughed but didn’t bother answering.

“I wish you could come with me,” she said. Even more glum.

“What makes you think I can’t?”

With that, she perked up. “Can you?! But I can’t bring a slime to the party.”

He scoffed.

“Have you forgotten I have no form? What makes you think I’m limited to being a slime?”

She blinked at him, mouth hanging open. To which he laughed.

Why hadn’t she thought of that?!

“Are you trying to trap flies with your mouth, little human?”

“You-”

There was a quiet knock to announce herself, then Tracy opened the door.

“It’s time to go, miss.”

“I’ll see you there,” Loki called cheerfully. Waving an arm as Tracy ushered Em out the door.

Eileen resumed her nagging as soon as they were in the carriage.

“Tuck your feet in when you sit. Hold your hands like this. Yes, that’s it. And when you get into more friendly conversation, remember to tell no one to call you ‘Em’.”

Em frowned and lost her position, leaning forward.

“Why?”

“Your parents had the good sense to give you a dignified name. You should use it.” The woman folded her arms and glared at Em. As though her eyes alone could pound into Em what she was saying. “Shortening your name to ‘Em’ makes you sound like you’re a scullery maid. What was your brother thinking?! Not thinking, that’s what it was.”

Em pressed her lips together.

“I asked him to call me Em.”

“Even worse. Giving in to the immature demands of a child.”

If Em didn’t clench her jaw, she knew she’d scream. Promising nothing, she sat back, rearranged her hands and feet once again, and simmered until her jaw ached. All while listening to Eileen’s instructions.

It was only for a few more weeks.

Someone, a lot of someones, had spent many hours preparing for this party.

Em looked around at the gatherings of canopies, tables, chairs, and portable kitchens hidden behind flaps and frequented by servants.

And rugs.

She stared at the rugs spread out under the canopies.

What was the point of picnicking outside if you’re just going to noble-proof everything? You might as well stay inside for that.

Em shook her head and watched for a chance to escape. But Eileen must’ve been paranoid of her doing just that, because the old woman kept a hand on Em’s shoulder. Steering the little girl this way and that, from group to group.

They were one of the earliest ones to arrive, so the pickings were slimmer than at the ball.

And even when more nobles trickled in, Em noticed with relief that the numbers had dropped by at least half.

Now, where was Loki?

She knew when he arrived and was wandering around somewhere, when Eileen made a strangled sound under her breath. It took all of Em’s self control not to burst out into hysterical giggles when the woman discretely pulled off yet another pair of gloves and shoved them into her maid’s hands.

“When I find out who’s doing that,” the old woman muttered, “I’m going to cut off their hands!”

“Perhaps you’re accidentally touching your face, Aunt?” Em suggested innocently. “That almost looks like your makeup.”

“I don’t touch my face with the back of my hands. Or at all, it’s not proper.”

Em controlled her smile and was about to dig more, when she saw someone.

For an instant, the first thing she remembered about the woman was her face flying past Em in the ballroom. Dancing away from Em before she could figure out why she looked familiar.

Now, Em got a really good look. And knew exactly who she was looking at.

Her mouth fell open.