Ivy wiped her tears, though she had read the letter before. She'd always known he hated his father. She'd always known his coldness was a shield.

He didn't give himself enough credit. He'd found ways to interact with the nine princesses—not often, but minor exchanges had occurred. Probably when his father wasn't watching.

Giles wandered toward the table but stopped as Heidel bustled back into the kitchen, smelling strongly of ginger. Ivy pushed the letter inside her sleeve.

"Finished the tea?" Heidel plunked a clay jar on the table that probably contained the ginger.

"Almost. But I'm better now," Ivy said.

"No—drink it all! You know that," Heidel said.

Ivy sighed and reached for the cup.

Heidel picked up a damp cloth to wash her hands. "Saw Willow heading out a short while ago. He seems to have recovered."

Ivy nodded and drained the last mouthful of tea.

"Has a pleasant face, doesn't he? I'm really hoping Coco doesn't see him. Also hoping he doesn't see Coco! I locked the kitchen door the day I gave him the stew, just to keep her out." Never one to be still, Heidel began wiping down the table with the same cloth. "Oh... did you take those letters to Maelyn?"

Ivy flinched. "Yes." A half-lie, since she'd delivered only one.

"Been meaning to ask her what Roald wanted. That was so unusual. He's always hated us so much, so why's he suddenly writing to Maelyn?"

Ivy turned cold inside. She had forgotten Heidel knew. She had been there when Willow brought the letters. Ivy's mind raced and her heart pounded.

"Do you need more tea?" Heidel asked sharply.

"No!"

"They WHY do you look like you're about to pass out?"

"It wasn't from Roald. It was two letters from Uncle Jarrod. Willow just made a mistake because... because Roald handed him one of the letters. But they were both from Uncle Jarrod. And they bothered Maelyn, so I wouldn't mention it."

Heidel stared at her. "Huh—that's odd. Maybe an afterthought? Well, if she wants to talk about it, she'll come to me. Now tell me why you turned pale."

"I'm just so tired."

Heidel removed the empty cup. "Go on up for your nap. You want help?"

"No, thank you."

Quick thinking, Giles said as they left the kitchen together.

Quick lying, you mean, Ivy said.

Lying to protect. Why didn't you want to tell Heidel?

I think her reaction would be like Maelyn's. She won't feel sorry for Roald. Won't believe a word he said because he's Uncle Jarrod's son. Maelyn would insist it's some kind of trick. And she definitely wouldn't reply.

You think Heidel would object that you did? Giles asked.

Ivy nodded. She would probably say it wasn't smart. Heidel hates Uncle Jarrod as much as Maelyn does - might even think it's better if his bloodline died off.

Oh, come on! She's not like that, Giles said. Heidel is compassionate.

To sick people—yes. To mean people—no. Heidel sees Roald as a mean person, and I don't think she'll accept his apology. She'll insist he just wants something out of us. And one thing I know for sure: BOTH Maelyn and Heidel would stop me from writing to him. I can't let that happen.

She arrived at her room and cast a critical glance at her painting by the window. It was coming along. She kicked off her shoes and propped her crutch against a bedside table before crawling onto her bed. She lay on top of the coverlet, a woven image of unicorns in a rose garden that she'd had since early childhood and refused to part with.

Giles sat in his chair beside the bed. She suspected he dozed off while she had her nap, but didn't like to admit it. Ivy relaxed her arms on either side of her body.

Do you think I said the right things to Roald? she asked.

Giles smiled. Well, I'm not sure! You didn't tell me what you wrote.

That was true. Giles hadn't been around when Ivy wrote the letter. She'd been so engrossed she'd forgotten to include him.

Well, I started out by telling him it was Ivy writing, not Maelyn. I said circumstances had required me to answer instead.

That's good. Honesty is important, Giles said.

Then I said I was very sorry for the things he was suffering. I understand what it's like to feel trapped.

Do you? Giles asked.

Ivy nodded. My foot will never be straight, and I'll always have my breathing problems. I'm trapped by my infirmities.

Did you tell him that? Giles asked.

Ivy shook her head. He doesn't need to hear my problems. Then I asked him to please, please not do anything to harm himself.

Good! Giles said.

I told him many people would grieve, including the people of his kingdom. But I also said it would break my heart to lose my cousin. It didn't matter to me that he was cold to us sometimes. He wasn't given a choice—and he wasn't always cold.

I don't know if he even remembers this. But I mentioned a day, several years ago, when we were at Grunwold for Uncle Jarrod's birth feast. We were all there, my mother and father, and all of my sisters. We were served large cuts of meat—venison steaks, I think it was. But at the time, I was suffering from a terrible fear of knives. Someone always had to cut the meat for me, and at home, the servants would do it. But I was too shy to ask at Uncle Jarrod's, so I just sat there. Roald was walking behind my table, and honestly, I don't know how he figured it out. He stopped beside me and said, 'Would you like me to cut that for you?' He did it quickly—and left quickly—but I was grateful.

Did Jarrod notice? Giles asked.

I don't think so. Think he'd stepped away for a few minutes. Anyway, I told Roald the whole story, and said I would be so sad to lose the boy who cut the meat for me.

That's good, Giles said. Gives him a personal connection to you.

Will that be enough, though? And regarding the problem with his betrothal, I said I'm not as good as Maelyn is with giving advice, but it seems to me the only thing he can do is to be honest with his father. He needs to tell him he doesn't want to marry Teresina, and thinks the marriage would be very unhappy. What's more, I remember MY father telling me that Jarrod was thirty years old when he married for the first time. Roald is so much younger than that. His father should at least give him the same amount of time.

But Roald is afraid of his father, Giles said. He might not be ready to say that.

I know. But I had to try.

Giles shook his head. Why can't the Red Fever find Jarrod?

Stop! Ivy said. We don't wish that on anybody.

Nothing else is likely to take him. He's only in his fifties, Giles said.

Then we hope for a change, Ivy said. But back to my letter....

There was more? Giles said teasingly.

Ivy gave him a quick glare. It got long! And maybe this was silly, but... I invited him to my birth feast this summer. I said we'd be happy to see him, and it would be better if he travelled alone. He just needs to make it look like he's not coming here.

Think he'll do it? Giles asked.

Ivy sighed. I don't know. Just think he needs to see some people care about him. I'm sure my sisters would love him if they got to know him.

Hmm.... I don't know about Maelyn.

Maelyn would at least be civil... I guess. I don't know what I'm doing at all, really. I just want to help him.

Giles patted her arm. I think you will. It's a good letter.

Hope so, Ivy said. I asked him to write back to me and that was it. We can only wait now.

How long? Giles asked.

Ivy shrugged. Six days for Willow to travel, and Roald needs time to write the letter. It could be a while.

Well, we're patient. Giles smiled. Now get your sleep.

Ivy rolled onto her side and closed her eyes. She reached back to untie the string binding her hair at her neck. She liked it loose and up across the pillow as she slept.

Do you think I should start doing my hair in tight braids? To make it harder for the bandits? Jaedis can do those braids that wrap all the way around your head.

Giles laughed. Don't think about that now. It'll go into your dreams.

He was right, of course. She needed to think pleasant thoughts to keep her dreams peaceful. She liked those dreams, where she was strong and healthy, never felt afraid, or even had magical powers.

And her foot pointed straight.