The storm chased them through the woods. At first, they tried to run back, but Camila tripped and hurt her leg, carrying Leila with her.

"Camila!" Jamie shouted, dropping on his knees in front of the girl. "Are you hurt?"

Leila turned and peered down at Camila. The girl looked like she was about to cry, but she swallowed, her face crumpling in pain. She slowly pulled her skirts higher and revealed a bleeding knee. Jamie and Leila sighed in relief. "Just a scratch, but it hurts," said Camila.

The rain finally fell on them and soon they were soaked.

"Can you stand?" Jamie asked, rising to his feet, holding Camila's hand.

Camila nodded and stood, but when she tried to walk, she limped. Leila stood and looked around and found it.

A cabin.

"Look—there," she pointed, taking Camila's hand. "We can wait out the storm there."

"We have to go back," Jamie said. "Camila's hurt. We don't know how long the storm will last."

"There may be supplies there," she reasoned. The three of them were soaking wet now, the leaves of the trees around them rustling, harsher with each passing gush of wind.

Thunder broke through the sky and Camila and Jamie nodded. Leila started to lead the way to the cabin, but a shout came from behind, stopping them dead on their tracks. Leila turned and found Trent Durham running toward them. Behind him was Oliver, not running, but his long strides were enough to keep in pace with Jamie's brother.

"No one speaks," Camila hastily said under her breath. Leila was curious why the girl said it, or why her hand was suddenly tight around Leila's.

It did not take her long to find out why. "What in the bloody hell are you three doing here!" Oliver thundered, reaching them. It was the first time Leila saw him so angry, and a chill ran up her spine when she also saw the same look of fury on Trent Durham.

"Come home at once!" Trent shouted at Jamie.

"Camila's hurt," Jamie told his brother.

Oliver immediately rushed to the girl. "Where?"

"Just a scratch on my knee. I fell."

The doctor growled under his breath and lifted Camila in his arms without much effort. Trent grabbed his brother's hand and ordered, "Get home now. Now."

As they turned to walk away from the direction of the cabin, Oliver stopped and turned to face Leila who remained where she was, stunned by the fury from both men. "Leila, don't make me haul you over my shoulder," Oliver said, rain running down his serious face.

She blinked, then swallowed. And then she forced herself to move. As she walked, Jamie jumped to her side and whispered, "If they ask, we tell them we got lost. Do not tell them about our plan."

"Why?" she asked, teeth chattering.

"You step away from each other," Trent ordered, tearing his brother away from Leila. "No conniving. You'll all explain everything in the manor."

The ladies were already waiting for them by the veranda. Lady Calbridge cried and rushed toward Jamie, arms outstretched. "Oh, thank God! Are you hurt?"

"No, Mother—"

"Good! Because you have a lot of explaining to do, young man! Your mother entrusted you in my care! What would she think of me!" The woman's voice had turned stern, shaking but graceful, too. "Camila, dear, are you fine?"

"She hurt her knee," Oliver explained as Caroline rushed to her sister, saying, "Mother will kill me, Camila, if she finds out about this. Are you certain you are all right?"

"We found them in the woods," Trent told his wife, eyes on his brother, as if telling Jamie he should have known better.

"Oh, good heavens!" Lady Calbridge cried out in horror before her eyes rounded at Jamie. "Get inside. And get dry!"

Everyone rushed back inside the manor. Leila hesitated, but then she felt herself being pushed forward. She looked up and found Simon St. Vincent beaming behind her. "Go on, child. Get dry. Then perhaps you could join me for an early hot meal while your two friends get scolded."

She swallowed. "I will not be scolded?"

"Of course, you will. Once remember you, of course. So go on, rush to your room and change into dry clothes. Then come find me in the dining room. I will protect you from the scolding that will follow."

At his word, Leila nodded and crept up the stairs to her room. Later, dry and with her hair tied in a ribbon, the door to her room opened and Jamie and Camila slipped inside.

"We have to make a plan," Jamie conspiratorially whispered. "But we should make haste. We are expected to join them downstairs."

"What plan?" Leila asked.

"For our story, of course," Camila replied, limping slightly, taking Leila's hand to pull her down on the floor. The three of them sat in a small circle. "We need to tell the same story."

"We can tell them the truth. That we ventured into the woods."

"They will be mad."

She frowned at Camila. "They found us in the woods. There is no point lying."

"They will be less mad if they know we were in the woods for a good cause," Jamie said.

"And not going in to search for Ellise' secret," Leila finished.

"Precisely. Now, I already hinted about the eggs hatching," Camila said. "We tell them we saw a fox trying to get to the eggs so we chased him away."

Jamie nodded. "Perfect. I also told my mother we saw a fox."

"But we have to talk about the color of the fox should they ask," Camila said, leaning and pulling Jamie closer to Leila so their heads were almost ear to ear. "And what height."

"I do not think they will ask for details," Leila said.

"They might," the pair chorused.

She sighed. "Very well." Then she paused, frowning at the floor. She had made many plans since she became High Priestess. She had also ruined many things. But never had she ever been placed in a situation where she had to protect herself from berating adults. "I suggest we also do not say anything about the cabin we saw."

"Why?" Jamie asked.

"Because it might be Ellise's secret. The one we do not want them to know we know."

"Ah, yes, of course." He turned to Camila. "Do not mention the cabin."

Camila nodded and smiled, satisfied. "Now, shall we agree on the color of the birds?"

*****

Two days later, Ellise stood in a corner of one parlor in Humbrick, watching the parlor game with little interest. Ruby was currently blindfolded, arms outstretched, while everyone else were soundlessly laughing with excitement, jumping away from her reach as she tried to catch them.

She was the lone spectator, although someone told her earlier she was part of the game. Staying away from all the ruckus would have been much preferred if Dior was not amongst the players. He was standing in one corner, hands behind him, trying to evade the blindfolded Ruby, slowly making his way toward Sheridan Garmont.

When he finally reached the woman, he murmured something under his breath. Sheridan replied, her eyes focused on Ruby who was now making her way toward Dior.

Ellise instinctively moved and slithered toward them, slipping between Dior and Ruby mere seconds before the woman could touch him. She smiled when the Belle's hand brushed against her shoulder, then came back to hold it. Behind her, Dior stepped away as everyone else cheered. "Now, you have to kiss your captive, my lady!" someone said, reminding Ruby of the rules of the game.

Most of the guests were amused, others tried to look away. It was not every day that they get to see a woman kiss another. To get it over with, Ellise leaned down and planted her lips at the corner of Ruby's mouth, eliciting a gasp around the room. Then she leaned back as the other players cheered and clapped their hands.

Ruby took off her blindfold and stiffened when she saw Ellise. The woman recognized her, of course. But as all Belles were trained for, she was fast to cover her surprise with a charming smile. "I hope I did not get you in trouble with your fiancé, Miss St. Vincent," Ruby said, flashing Dior a smile.

"He is not my husband," Ellise replied, eliciting more cheers from the others.

"It's your turn, Miss St. Vincent!" someone cried and Ruby raised the cloth in front of Ellise. With a smile, the woman walked around her, covered her eyes and tied the cloth behind her head. "The other Belles are watching you. Be careful," Ruby whispered before gently guided Ellise to the middle of the room and whirled her around a few times. Then she let go and suddenly, she felt alone.

The room had gone quiet again.

"You should walk around, Miss St. Vincent," someone said with a laugh, a few other snickered. She concentrated on one corner, rolling her eyes down, but she could not even make out her own feet. "It also helps if you raise your hand and try to catch someone!" another shouted from one corner of the room.

Ellise wanted to tell them it would be much better if she was holding a sword as she waved her arm around. Finally, she felt a presence in front of her and she stopped. She sniffed, tilting her head to the side. It was not Dior. And obviously, he was not trying to stop her from reaching for this gentleman. And so she did and before anyone could react, she tilted her chin high.

"Kiss! Kiss!" the other players shouted.

And then it happened. Whoever her captor was, kissed her.

Ellise peeled the cloth off her eyes and found herself face to face with a man she did not know. His was fairly handsome with curly brown hair, light brown eyes, and bristled jaw. He was smiling, amused by the game. "Michael Simon, Miss St. Vincent," he introduced himself with a slight bow. Her eyes flickered to the corner of the room and found Robert standing there, face hard and filled with warning.

"I believe this is now yours," she told Michael Simon, handing the cloth to him.

"You will not put it on me?"

"No," she replied, stiffly turning away.

Ellise walked toward the window and leaned against the wall, ignoring Dior, knowing he was making his way toward her. Sheridan Garmont was no longer in the room. Ruby was with the other Belles, laughing excitedly as Michael Simon was being whirled around the room by another man.

Dior's large form stepped in front of her and surreptitiously ran his hand around her waist as he murmured, "Why did you do that?"

"Why were you talking with Garmont?" she asked, looking over his shoulder to watch the game.

"The prince asked for a favor." He looked behind him and stepped to the side to completely block her sight. For everyone else, they may appear to be talking, which was true, but his hand was also traveling up to the side of her breast, across it, then back again. "Why did you do it?"

"You mean kiss Ruby?" she asked. "Why did you not move? You saw her coming your way."

"Are you jealous?"

She frowned, considering her answer. "Yes."

His finger traced her arm. "Of her or of me?"

"Why would you think I'm jealous of you?"

"You seem to like her."

"I'm jealous of her," she said.

He scoffed softly, shaking his head. "I never had interest in her like you do."

She frowned. "Are you jealous of her?"

He shrugged as a small smile tugged at his lips. He bent down and whispered in her ear. "I also do not like Michael Simon."

"He has a rather charming smile."

His eyes darkened at her words, but the back of his fingers caressed the side of her breast, soft and careful, deliberate. "I believe we are done here."

"You mean you wish to leave Humbrick?"

He stepped closer. "No. I want to take you upstairs."

Her skin tingled and her heart raced, his touch spreading a bristling wave to her midriff and downward.

She turned her head and brushed her lips against his jaw. He turned, chased her lips for the barest of kiss. Her hand blindly found his and led him out of the parlor. Outside in the corridor, he pulled, holding her back.

His gaze was grave, giving her a hint of what it felt like to dip her toes into dangerous waters. "Don't kiss anyone again."

Ellise scoffed. "It was a game."

He did not look amused. "Even for a game."

"Is this an order?"

"I only keep one lover, and I hate sharing."

"Is this a common rule?"

"Most often, yes." At her lack of response, he let go of her hand. Making sure no one else was around, he added, "If you wish to exercise more liberties, then I would have to take a pass."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. She hated yielding, but she was not also a stupid player. No game was fun without a worthwhile opponent, which, in her case, was him. "I shall not be intimate with anyone in the duration of our affair."

He grabbed her hand and led her away. "Good."

"Am I getting my reward?" she asked later when they entered his bedchamber.

He pulled at his white cravat, standing before her. His gaze held hers, his face bare as always with just the smallest hint of amusement in the corner of his mouth. Without a word, he wrapped the cravat around her eyes.

"Not funny, Dior," she warned as he moved to stand behind her, securing the cravat with a knot, then another; but she did not stop him because then she felt him standing too close, his smell more distinct around her.

"Which one did you like? Ruby's or Simon's?" his voice asked in her ear.

"None."

"I wonder if I should believe you."

She gritted her teeth. "Are you saying you do not trust my judgement?"

His breath was suddenly in her ear and she felt the warm spread in her chest. She tried to reach for him, but he was not there. Her jaw tightened. She took one step forward then froze as the lace of her wrap was tugged, coming loose. With a swift motion, she whirled. Again, he was not there. She kicked the space before, thinking he might have docked.

His chuckle came a few paces away.

She paused, hands on her hips. She could take off the cravat and end the game, but then she would lose. Making up her mind, Ellise lifted her arms and searched.

For the bed.

"Where are you going?" his voice asked as she climbed on top.

The corner of her mouth curled into a smug smile as she knelt, facing the foot of the bed. "I will make you come to me." Shrugging her wrap off her shoulders, she easily discarded it to the side.

"That's cheating." His voice was far from disappointed, coming closer with his footsteps.

She remained silent, reaching behind her to loosen her stays, her heart hammering against her chest, her body too aware it was being watched. The stays landed on the mattress beside her knee. Then her shift followed. She bit back her smile when she heard him undress. "I can hear your defeat," she said.

He did not reply. In fact, the room was too quiet that for a moment she feared he left. She freed her hair, letting it fall over her shoulders, and fell back on the mattress to discard her shift, pulling it over her head. And when her hand lifted to take off the cravat, he was suddenly above her, bare as she was, hands around her wrist, pinning them above her head. "Don't," he murmured on the pulse of her neck. "You can't take it off."

"I won."

"You cheated," he said, mouth gliding across her jaw, hand between her thighs. He groaned and cursed under his breath, telling her she was ready. But louder, he asked, "How do you like your prize?"

She tried to free her hands, but he tightened his hold. "Bad," she said, blindly searching his mouth.

He shook with laughter above her, and she also tasted his mirth in his lips as they closed over hers. The kiss was crass, clumsy, open-mouth, sharing one breath as he slid into her, slowly, as if he meant to test if she was ready for the torment.

"Is this all right?" he asked, breaths coming in short gasps, one hand gripping her hips as he moved in a lazy pace.

A strangled moan rumbled up her throat. "Are you bloody blind?" she asked.

And he laughed, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

Ellise smiled, very aware that had never—and perhaps would never—witness this man laugh. But her smile melted when he changed his pace, and in no time, they were both racing against heartbeats. She managed to tug free from his hold, her hands finding new curves as she drowned in darkness, just feeling... hearing.

Her explosion was both in her ears and behind her eyes, a flash of light beneath her closed lids and his cravat. His followed with a long, low growl in her neck. But he did not stop because he was still as ready as he was moments ago.

He slowed down, hands running down her sides, soothing her calming nerves. But she knew he was building another fire when he pulled the cravat from around her eyes.

His handsome sharp edges smiled down at her. "I may never want to let you go," he said, smiling at her as if he was holding a secret, and it was one that made her want to be reckless. He slid deeper into her and she jerked, sensing another fire crawling back to life. "Will that be all right?" he asked, tying the cravat around her wrists, looking into her eyes. He looked uncertain then, so far from the man who could render anyone stupid in any setting.

She was uncertain how she should answer his question, so she asked, "Have you done this with the others?" she asked.

"Once."

"And?"

"She never came back," he said with a smile, biting her lip as his hands tied her to the post above her head.

"And do you smile at them like you do now?" she asked.

He paused. "I'm not certain."

"I do not think I like the thought of you smiling at other women."

"Your answer?" he asked instead. "Will it be all right?" He tugged at her lower lip. "If I do not let you go?"

He was still above her, inside her. For a moment, she forgot where they were a moment ago, or where they were headed to. She moved her gaze down to his mouth, lower to where they were joined, then back up to his dark globes, seeing her own reflection there.

"If you can make it worthwhile," she finally replied.

His face gentled as he bent to kiss her lips, his hands relearning her planes and curves.

That day, as his mouth traveled lower, Ellise discovered that all the women who left Robert Dior for another lover were stupid fools.

*****

The moon spilled a rectangular light on the lower half of the bed inside the cabin, the sound of waves against the hull of the ship now a familiar constant. Sitting with her in bed, their backs against the headboard, West played with Sasha's hands on his lap, right where the spot of moonlight touched them.

"Reginald told me how your father helped him escape," she said, resting her head on his shoulder. "You ought to have seen his face when he told me how he had to travel through the underground tunnel."

West smiled, then scoffed. Interlacing their fingers, he kissed the back of her hand. "He was green the entire way, Father said. He was a king, after all, and he had to wade through the filth of his own people to save his own life."

"I am beginning to appreciate Leo more than the father."

"No one said you have to like either. Or both."

A long silence reigned between them. "Rider is certain there are only two Soldiers on the ship," West said, leaning away so he could look at her. "Should we capture them now?"

She smiled. "Why are you asking me?"

He frowned in confusion. "Because I want your opinion."

"I'm no longer Darcy."

"Yes, but you still—"

"I'm your wife and the mother of your unborn heir. I have no other responsibilities."

He chuckled. "You are jesting."

She kissed his jaw. "If we catch them now, they will have more time to think of a way to escape."

West grinned and shifted so she was almost covered by him. "And that is why I ask, darling," he murmured against her mouth.

Later, as her husband slept, Sasha walked out of the cabin wrapped in a thick scarf. She walked along the narrow corridor and into another room which remained unlocked for her.

Inside, the woman with red, curly hair faced her.

"I'm glad my note reached you," she said to Gabrielle.

*****

Arielle looked up as an Elected walked into the room followed by Jade who was clad in a blood-red cloak. "My Lady," the Mistress of the Court of Flowers greeted with a deep curtsy. "I have urgent news."

She stood from the chair Albert once owned. The room underneath the garden was now free of Leila's doll house and other toys. The bed was now white, the canopy sheer purple. The closet was now filled with her gowns and cloaks. "What is it?" she asked Jade.

"Tanner Macmier sent a note." Jade's heart-shaped face hardened as she added, "Esther was abducted from Humbrick. Everyone is searching for her as we speak. Macmier suspects the Circus." A small pause, then she added, "Robert Dior was in Humbrick."

"And Leila?"

"She is still in Herst."

She scoffed. "They trapped her there," she thoughtfully said.

"We can't let her suspect anything. If she learns that she cannot go back here, she might retaliate."

"Are you suggesting we should rescue her?"

"Or at least let her think we are attempting to."

Arielle shook her head. "Leila is too proud. She would not easily fold. Our problem is not her. The Circus is finally making a move."

"What do you want us to do?"

"Bring Tanner here at once."

Jade nodded, then reluctantly asked, "Do you think this is part of Esther's plan? Is she working with the Circus?"

"Let us hope Tanner has the answers," Arielle sighed. "One thing is for certain. The king will no longer be at the Kinsley Ball." She turned to the Elected standing at the door. "Call the Maidens." She faced the Mistress again. "You and the other Mistresses will hear more orders soon. And Jade," she added, stopping the woman's departure, "I am proud of your work."

Jade smiled, eyes glistening. "I will try harder, my lady."

*****

The night in Winfield was calm. The storm had passed, both outside and indoors. The adults ushered the children to their bedchambers and soon after retired to their rooms.

But past midnight, Leila slipped out of bed and found her coat. Alone, she walked out of her room, down the staircase, and out into the veranda.

The cold breeze greeted her. The ocean moved like dark cloth against soft wind, the moon the only light in the sky. And although the storm had long died down, the stars still hid behind the clouds that had come back to shadow the night.

She made her way to the woods, in naught but her walking shoes and coat.

Soon, she was standing behind a giant alder, staring at the cottage. She did not have to see anyone outside to know that it was occupied. The soft yellow candlelight was visible through the window.

Royals, she thought.

*****

The journey was long and exhausting. The carriage only stopped twice to change horses. Esther fell in and out of sleep with her eyes blindfolded, her hands bound in front of her. She knew now that there were three men traveling with her.

Of course, she tried to bribe them. She shouted profanities, cursed them, promised to bring them hell once she escaped. It did not get her anywhere. They ignored her, only speaking to her when they handed her food which she had to blindly eat with her hands. They did not even dare touch her.

What did Robert Dior promise Emory?

How long had they been planning this?

Is Tanner Macmier a part of this?

Of course they are, the bloody bastards!

By the second day—or was it the third? No matter, after what seemed like a long journey through hell, the carriage finally drew to a stop. She knew they had reached their destination. They were not stopping to change horses. The absent sounds of villagers or other carriages, or the fact that her companions did not gag her mouth to keep her from shouting for help, was enough proof of that.

"Move," ordered one of them, pulling her from her seat. When she was too stiff to do it, she was hoisted out of the carriage by force, her petite form making it easy. The man deposited her on her feet and she was guided up a short flight of stairs.

Esther was done struggling at this point. She just wanted a bed. And perhaps, within a day or two, her father would find her. Or her mother would. Yes, the queen would search for her.

Like Albert, Emory would not succeed, she promised.

The smell of pine and hard wood greeted her. The soles of her silk slippers made a squeaking sound. Polished floors. Even the doors opened without a sound as they guided her into another room.

And finally, something soft. Cushioned seat. Carpeted floor.

At the very least, her prison was not filthy.

The guards retreated away from her from where they left her in the chair. Then the door swung open again and footsteps echoed around the room. She remained still, blind, tired—furious.

She could not see, but she felt the presence before her, a palpable shadow. Finally, the cloth around her eyes was peeled away.

Esther let out a soft, shaky breath before she lifted her lids, grateful for the lack of sunlight. Then she realized it was nighttime and the room was lit yellow from the candles and the fire nearby.

And someone was standing before her. The presence—the shadow.

She looked up and found dark eyes staring at her with amusement and interest. He was tall, his shoulders not as broad as the men who took her, but they were enough to block the door behind him. He turned his head to the side to dismiss the guards and Esther discovered that his dark hair was long, tied haphazardly in a bun at the back of his head. When he looked back down at her, his smile widened, stretching his bristled jaw.

"Good evening, Your Highness," the man greeted, voice low and teasing as he offered a mocking bow.

"Who are you?" she demanded through gritted teeth.

Finally, his lips broke and flashed a big smile. "Ivan Miller, Marquess of Rothsker. But everyone calls me Rothsker nowadays."