Maelyn remembered the first time she ever saw the castle. She was on Father's horse, riding up the hill with him on a day much like today.

"There it is, little pet." He pointed over her head. "Your new home."

To Maelyn's young mind, it was a giant cottage made of rocks. So gray. So hard. So many windows. Her gaze climbed a tower to a red flag that flapped against the sky. The image seared on her memory, and she never thought of her first day home without remembering that flapping flag, red against blue.

Today the flag hung limp on its pole as if it, too, mourned her departure. Maelyn watched it from the carriage until the soaring trees of Lumen Forest wrapped their shadows around them. Uncle Jarrod chuckled. "It really is a tiny castle."

Maelyn shut her eyes. She was facing a three-day journey spent solely in his company. A ride in the Carnivorous Carriage sounded more inviting.

They sat in opposite corners on blue velvet seats. The creepy servant perched outside, commanding a team of black horses. Maelyn couldn't visualize the new life waiting to meet her at the end of the road. She hadn't asked Uncle Jarrod when she would see Roald, because none of this felt real. It was a journey to nowhere with nothing at the end.

At least Uncle Jarrod enjoyed the lumen wine. He was into his third goblet before they even reached Merridell. "Marvelous wine! Can't believe I never tasted it."

"It's extremely rare." Maelyn felt disgusted that her uncle could absorb enough wine to flood a river without becoming unsteady or thick-tongued. The ride would be much more bearable if he drank himself into a stupor.

The carriage crawled through streets hugged by merchant shops and peppered with men and women in bright clothing. Maelyn watched them absently, wondering if any would miss her. She had no real friends among the people, but many that she liked. She would even miss Valina.

Uncle Jarrod filled his goblet from a small barrel on the floor and held it toward her. "Have some."

Maelyn took a small sip and understood why the wine cost so much. Rich flavor, subtly sweet, with a gentle tingling that felt pleasant on her tongue. "It's lovely." She handed back the goblet.

"Holy Noses, it's hot in here," Uncle Jarrod said, pulling open his collar. Maelyn found the day comfortable, a refreshing break from the recent high temperatures.

They reached the open fields and farmland that lay between Merridell and the next town of Creaklee. Maelyn pulled The Devious Damsel from a satchel at her side, bent on finishing the last few pages. She ignored the familiar landscape until a new thought struck her mind.

"How did he get out of it?"

Uncle Jarrod gave her a puzzled look. "What?"

"Roald. How did he get out of his engagement to Teresina?"

"Ah." Uncle Jarrod sipped his lumen wine and swallowed. "He hasn't."

Maelyn frowned. "Well, he must tell her sometime. Unless you're planning to." She could see him doing that. Something like this would require delicacy. He wouldn't want to make an enemy of the lady's kingdom.

Uncle Jarrod leaned forward, a smile deepening his creases. "My son Roald... is married."

Maelyn sat rigid as a cavalry of emotions charged through her. Shock, intense relief, momentary euphoria, utter bewilderment, and then finally, fear. "M-married?"

"Almost a month now. It was my surprise for him when he arrived in Bella Reino. Not an engagement feast, but a marriage feast! And the honeymoon all in one place. So much simpler."

"He married Lady Teresina?"

Uncle Jarrod gave a smiling nod. "I've had confirmation."

"I thought you didn't like her."

"I don't. But her father is very rich, and a good alliance. My castle is big enough that we can live separate lives. Furthermore, it's very true what you said to me last night: I don't want you as the next queen of Grunwold."

Maelyn had known this so well the words could not even hurt her. "You mean to say that you didn't attend your only son's wedding?"

"Pah." Uncle Jarrod waved a hand. "Roald was his mother's boy. I just needed to know it happened. Was a beautiful day, my ministers informed me, and Roald was delighted."

The carriage lurched at a dip in the road and Maelyn caught the wall to steady herself. Uncle Jarrod watched with obvious enjoyment of her confusion. She glanced out the window to process her thoughts, then back at her uncle in exasperation. "Then... where are you taking me?"

"Home," Uncle Jarrod said pleasantly.

"Home where?"

"I found just the right place for you. Little spot in northern Grunwold where I think you'll feel most comfortable. You might have heard of it—called Fernley."

Maelyn felt the blood drain from her face. "My—my village. Where I was born."

Uncle Jarrod's smile widened.

Once, during a local tournament, Maelyn watched as a galloping knight struck his opponent with a blunt lance, catching him squarely in the chest. The opponent was punched straight off his horse and landed on his back, legs in the air.

She now understood what he felt.

"It's where you belong," Uncle Jarrod said. "You are not a real princess."

Maelyn gazed at him, too numb for tears. She'd always hated the fact she'd been born in Grunwold. Even though it was also the birthplace of her father, Dellan. To her mind, that land just reeked of Jarrod, and she couldn't separate it from him. She'd always seen herself as a girl of Runa Realm.

Uncle Jarrod grimaced and dabbed his temples with a handkerchief. "When my brother revealed he intended to raise nine orphans as his daughters, I was incensed. This meant any ragamuffin could walk into a castle and think himself royalty. It weakens the class structure our world depends upon. I ordered my brother to return the runts to their respective kingdoms. He refused."

Uncle Jarrod paused to rub his eyes. "I could have forced him. Or sent my assassins to take care of the little imposters. I considered it." He chuckled at Maelyn's horrified expression. "But sadly, I possessed a weakness in those days: Runa."

Maelyn lowered her face. "I know."

"It was always known that Runa would marry my brother. And I had a wife of my own. There was nothing I could do. But she became the only person in the world whose happiness mattered more than mine. And she, regretfully, was happy to raise nine foundlings as her own children."

Maelyn folded her arms. "But she's gone now. And Father too. So you plan to reverse the... mistake... they made."

"At first, you may find it difficult. Maybe it was good practice, these months you've lived without servants. It prepared you for the... humbler life you'll live in the village. But don't worry. I'll see that you have a comfortable cottage. They have rebuilt nicely since the devastation of the plague, and do most of the wheat milling for that region. I'm sure you'll learn quickly."

"Will I still be a princess?" Maelyn asked.

Uncle Jarrod closed his eyes as though praying for patience. "You never were a princess, my dear." His eyes remained shut, and he rubbed them irritably with his fingers.

Maelyn's numbness hardened into rage, cold as steel. "What about my sisters? Will they be returned to their birth kingdoms as well?"

Uncle Jarrod merely sipped his wine.

"We'll come back." Maelyn raised her eyebrows rebelliously. "At the very least, I'll come back. All it takes is a carriage ride."

"No, I wouldn't recommend that." Uncle Jarrod dabbed his face with a handkerchief. "You are known in Grunwold. To the citizens and to my soldiers and my spies. If you leave the village, you won't get far. Certainly not across the kingdom's border. As for your sisters, by the time I've banished them, I'll have the new king of Runa firmly installed."

"The new king!" Maelyn gasped. "Who?"

"Gah, what's wrong with my eyes?" Uncle Jarrod clenched his teeth and rubbed furiously. His forehead shimmered with sweat.

Maelyn's eyes widened. "Uncle Jarrod... your face is turning red. Very red."

"Tell that wastrel to stop the carriage!" Uncle Jarrod roared. "I can't breathe in this heat!"

Maelyn yelled out the window, and the carriage halted in the open meadow. Uncle Jarrod staggered out and collapsed on the grass, leaning against the carriage wheel. He panted hard and his eyes had swollen into slits.

The servant jumped down from the driver's seat and gaped at Uncle Jarrod's russet complexion. "Holy Ankles!" the servant shrieked. "It's—it's Red Fever!"

"What?" Uncle Jarrod yelled. "Are you sure?"

The servant nodded, eyes bulging. Maelyn kneeled next to her uncle and pressed her hand to his cheek. She pulled it away. "I—I'm so sorry, Uncle."

"You're sure?"

"I've seen it too many times. My birth parents. Two of my nursemaids. Heidel's poor little friend. I'm sure you've seen it too."

"I always kept them away from me!" Uncle Jarrod growled. He released a string of curses. "How—how long do I...?"

Maelyn shook her head. "Usually... a day."

"I have to get home!" Uncle Jarrod's arms flailed. "My apothecaries—"

"You won't make it, Sire!" The servant clapped both hands on his head. "It's three days to Grunwold!"

Maelyn clasped Uncle Jarrod's hand in both her own. "Listen to me, Uncle. I have something with me. A medicine that may... weaken the fever. Give you enough time to reach your apothecaries."

"Get it! Now!" Uncle Jarrod shouted.

Maelyn's tone hardened. "I have a price."

Uncle Jarrod stopped thrashing. "A price?" He somehow managed to look shrewd, even with bloated features.

"You will crown me queen of Runa in my twentieth year," Maelyn said. "You will swear to this in writing, and place your seal."

"I'll die first!" Uncle Jarrod barked.

Maelyn smiled. "Yes. You will."

"Gah, it burns!" Uncle Jarrod ground his fists into his eyes, kneading savagely. The swelling had now spread to his already-thick fingers. The servant flapped his cap up and down in a useless attempt to fan the king.

"G-get me some parchment," Uncle Jarrod rasped. "Before I can't write!"

Maelyn stood up. "You," she addressed the servant. "Fetch parchment and ink from my trunk. Then find the king's seal and melt the wax. Quickly!"

"Where's the medicine?" King Jarrod said.

"You'll have it when you've signed the document," Maelyn said.

The servant brought a length of parchment, ink, and a quill. The king wrote with a trembling hand. "I—I can't understand... how I caught it."

Maelyn shook her head. "No one knows what brings the fever. It's unpredictable." She stood over the king as he signed and pressed his seal. When he handed her the document, she reached inside the satchel that still hung from her shoulder and withdrew a vial of golden-brown liquid.

"Thank you, Uncle," Maelyn said as the servant wrenched the king to his feet. "I suggest you hurry home."

Uncle Jarrod needed no encouragement. He snatched the vial and heaved into the carriage, barking orders at his servant. Maelyn waited until the carriage became a small fleck on the distant hill. Then she collapsed in the grass, laughing long and hard.