I thundered out of the house the next morning, Marigold beneath me, furious at myself for waking up late. It took great energy to dissuade the niggling thought that it was due to the water Evan had offered me that I fell so easily asleep.

If I didn't get down to the town before the royal entourage did, Gavrila would be even more humiliated.

"Faster." I whispered to Marigold, veering her off of the main road, down through the woods instead. I had dressed hastily, still in a fury of the plan Evan had told me. I had planned to wake up early and bar all the staff from going to the prince's reception, but by the time I opened my eyes it was already gone ten.

As Marigold and I got closer to the town, I was dismayed to already hear the coronets and fanfare. I steered us off down the alleyway between the bakers and the fishmongers, leaning down low in the saddle, powerless as I took in just how many of the townspeople held white bouquets in their hands. There was nothing I could do now, but move Marigold back a few paces so we were hidden when Gavrila and Henrietta passed in their open topped carriages.

"Now!" A voice yelled, it's accent reminding me too much of Grey's.

As one, the crowd launched all of the Marguerites over the Prince and Princess. I flinched in fury as Gavrila threw himself over his wife to protect her. They were just flowers. Flowers designed to humiliate him.

In a blur of shouts and a few screams, the royals were evacuated from their carriage and, to my horror, ushered towards the alleyway my horse and I stood in. Marigold backed up around the corner without any command from me, but I stopped her before she ran all the way home. Again I leaned forward to listen in.

"Your majesties." A commanding voice snapped. "Take Saffron, ride with her back to the de Balivans. They'll shelter you for now."

"They planted Marguerites there as well!" Gavrila almost roared, clearly more angry than upset.

"It's the closest haven." A feminine, serpentine voice pointed out.

"Go right now." The first voice barked. "I'll bring you the prisoners. Go!"

Even though his command wasn't to me, I urged Marigold back out into the woods, fury roiling in my stomach that anyone would dare to treat my prince like that. I almost screamed when I realised that it was me who confirmed the rumours, so it was my servants who were responsible.

Marigold raced back through the woods, almost lurching into the stream at a wrong turn, the wind tangled my hair anew. As we came up towards the house, I spotted another horse running parallel only a few metres away from me, one of it's riders squinting at me through the wind.

I pulled Marigold around the back of the house before the Prince could look back at me, sitting atop her behind a shed as I tried to regain my breath. Once my chest had stopped aching, I swung my leg back over her, falling to the ground with a painful thud. it wasn't quite so painful, though, as seeing my Ganechka humiliated like that. In my home town as well. As I led the horse back to her stable, my mind leaped at dizzying speed from the desire to go to him and comfort him and apologise to the need to stay out of the way and hide until he finally left.

Having left the horse with a stablehand, I pulled my hair out of my face as I legged it up the servants' stairs, tumbling into Amelie's room. She was there, thank God, still dressing.

The elderly lady turned to me, her raised eyebrows lowering in concern. "What's-"

"They're coming back," I gasped, leaning against the door as though that would keep Ganechka from discovering me. "The - the tour, there was a riot. I think it was Grey. They threw Marguerites at them and now the Prince and the Princess and everyone are coming back and the prisoners and you have to hide me again," I only stopped because I had to cough.

Amelie stood abruptly. "They're coming back?" She repeated, pulling a curling ribbon from her hair.

Pressing my lips into a line to fend off more tears, I nodded. "He'll find me. He saw me on the horse and then I'll..." This time, a sob cut me off.

Amelie came over, extending her arms. She readjusted my hair and whispered sweet nothings into my ear. "Shall I tell you what I told him, when he demanded to know your whereabouts?" She stepped back, taking my hands in hers. Before I could make up my mind on whether I actually wanted to hear it, she continued. "The prince cornered Jon and I in the drawing room after dinner. He threw that sword of yours down onto the table and demanded to know where you were, because you surely must be here. Jon explained how on our way out of Baracosia, our carriage hit something hard. We discovered you, knocked off the side of the road, barely conscious. We explained to him how, on the verge of death you had talked about this house, how it was empty now. Then I told him about how we took your sword off of you and put it in the room we thought to be yours. Jon explained how he felt guilty about your passing, so liked to read in that room, explaining away the book you so carelessly left out." Amelie stroked my face gently. "You're safe with us, Evangeline, I wish I didn't have to tell you in so many words."

Catching my breath, I processed her words. Alright then. I was safe. If I just waited in my room until they left once and for all, I would be safe.

Exhaling heavily, I kissed Amelie's cheek, then opened the servants' door again, quietly trudging up the steps and down the corridor to my room.

Tears were still pricking my eyelids a little as I collapsed down onto the bay window seat, exhausted by my own emotions. I sat on something hard though, and instinctively lifted Gavrila's sword from out underneath me.

But he took the sword with him last night.

Slowly my eyes roamed upwards, until they were in line with the bed and the figure who lay stretched out on it.

"So you're not a ghost." Gavrila murmured.