I can't sleep at all. How could I? I was officially deposed tonight. Before long, all of Runa shall hear that I've been removed for failing to govern the kingdom. As punishment for this, I will be taken to Grunwold, and sometime later... become its queen?

Maelyn leaned against the headboard and sighed. Sometimes journaling gave her clarity. But none of this made any sense.

I don't understand my uncle's motives. It would be stupid to take someone who had failed to rule a small kingdom and put them in charge of a larger kingdom, much less one as enormous as Grunwold. Uncle Jarrod isn't stupid. He must have something else in mind.

She couldn't imagine what. Was his motive no deeper than a manageable wife for Roald? Uncle Jarrod loved his schemes and intrigues. But she couldn't see through this one. She didn't know how to outwit him.

It can't just be to make me and Roald miserable. Uncle Jarrod doesn't go out of his way to ruin lives. He goes out of his way to get what he wants, and doesn't care who gets ruined along the way. The goal is always his own desires.

As with Runa. Jarrod had been willing to destroy both his brother and his wife to possess her. Was this persecution of her daughters just a long, drawn-out revenge for her refusal?

These questions churn in my head, unanswered. I see no way out of this. No person to whom I can turn. I want Mother. I want Joc. And I want W—

Her heart cramped and she could not finish writing his name. She scratched out the sentence and continued.

I'm truly grateful Joc wasn't here tonight. Wherever he's gone, I hope he never hears about this. It would break his dear heart. It has broken mine.

I wasn't close to Kerrick as a child. He was an active boy, and I liked my books. Furthermore, his preference for Coco showed from a young age. But he was always here. In the kitchen helping his father. Carrying platters out to the dining hall. He used to call me Mae-Mae. I pretended I didn't like it, but I did.

A tear ran down her nose and she wiped it with the back of her hand.

Was all of this my fault? It was more than a year ago when Kerrick asked for Coco's hand. I was not encouraging toward him. Though I avoided directly refusing him, I made my thoughts very clear to Coralina. Princes and kings only, as Mother had wished. Plus, I did not believe she truly loved him.

She had been right about that. But maybe she should have given her consent and let them sort that out on their own. As it was, Kerrick had sought to enrich himself to seem worthy, not only to Coralina, but to Maelyn as well. And his desperation for wealth had taken a wretched route.

Maybe Uncle Jarrod was right to take her away. She didn't know what she was doing. She was a peasant from a poor village, pretending to be a princess. She had let the title go to her head. She should not have interfered with Coralina.... Maybe not even with Arialain. She hadn't meant to harm anyone.

Especially Willow.

Now she wrote his name on the page. Nothing else. Only his name. When the ink dried, she touched the letters with the tips of her fingers.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Her words echoed in her mind. Why would I want you to stay? Such cold and cutting words. How could she explain that when she came upon him, he was already lost to her? She had just been promised to Jarrod's son. The sight of Willow had seared such pain through her body that she had flung him away with all the force of her grief. She couldn't bear to look at him.

None of that made her actions excusable.

She closed the journal. Blew out the candle. Sank her head into the pillow. Very well. She had ruined everything and would take responsibility. She would accept the life she had made for herself.

Tap. Tap.

"Maelyn?"

Morning light. Could it be she had actually slept?

"Maelyn?"

"Come in, Ari." It had to be past Maelyn's normal hour of rising. But what did that matter? She was no longer in charge of anything.

Arialain, creeping into the room, looked like a buttercup with her bright yellow hair and gown of apple green. She carried a rectangular parcel in her hands.

"Just found this on the doorstep. No note attached."

Maelyn sat up, overheated by the bed and the suffocating air of the room. She wiped her face and reached for the parcel, guessing its contents before she undid the wrappings.

A new book. Not as well bound as the last. This looked like a manuscript with rough cut leather wrapped around it. Somewhat untidily stitched together. Beneath the wordless cover, the first page held only the title: The Devious Damsel.

Maelyn closed her eyes. Thank you. She didn't need a note to know who it came from. Did it mean he wasn't angry? Or that he understood? Maybe this was just his gentle way of saying goodbye.

After all... why would she want him to stay?