I am jerked awake the next morning when someone grips my shoulder and shakes me roughly.

My eyes shoot open and I instinctively slap the hand away. I roll across the mattress and onto the floor, landing in a defensive position between the bed and the wall. A second later I gather my bearings, adjusting to my plush and now-familiar bedroom. I stand up slowly and find Sera standing on the other side of the bed, her offended hand clutched to her chest as she stares at me incredulously.

"Rough night, miss?" she asks, pointedly.

"Oh gods, Sera, I am so sorry," I say, pushing my tangled hair from my face.

She rolls her eyes and begins stripping the sheets off my bed, pulling them into a pile on the floor.

"What time is it?" I ask, rubbing my eyes as I walk over to the balcony, blinking sleepily in the bright sunlight.

"Past breakfast," Sera answers from behind me. "Most of the ladies are already gathered in the parlour."

I groan. "Why didn't you wake me? I'm starving."

"I figured you would be. I took the liberty of scrounging up some food from the kitchen."

I turn around and smile delightedly, crossing over to the silver bowl of strawberries on my desk.

"You're a saint." I tell her, stuffing a berry into my mouth. "Now I feel particularly bad about slapping you."

I offer her the bowl and she takes a couple of berries before turning back to the laundry. I wander into the closet and absentmindedly flip through the hanging dresses as I turn over in my mind the events of the previous night.

"Uhh, miss?"

"What is it?"

I step back into the bedroom. One glance at Sera and I gasp audibly, sucking the partially chewed fruit back into my throat. My handmaid is holding up a guard's uniform.

I cough, pounding my chest as I fight for breath. I feel rather than see Sera rush across the room. She grabs me by the shoulders and steers me firmly back toward the bed, where she sits down next to me and rubs my back as my lungs gradually clear.

"Those clothes..." I begin, then choke on another cough in my struggle to explain. "They aren't mine."

To my surprise, Sera starts laughing. I stare open-mouthed as my sullen, timid handmaid doubles over, clutching her stomach and laughing so hard I think she might begin choking as well.

"Not yours," she says eventually, wiping tears from the corner of her eyes. "No, Miss Abby. I didn't gather they were yours." She begins giggling again at my shocked expression.

"Not to worry." She pats my knee playfully. "You aren't the first lady to have a guard visit her quarters and I daresay you won't be the last."

"Right," I breathe, fighting to keep from wrinkling my nose at the thought of sharing my bed with one of the King's dimwitted lackeys. "You won't say anything, then?"

"Of course not." Sera winks and rises from the bed; she stoops to gather the offending garments and attempts to hide them among the rest of her gathered laundry,

"Wait!" I reach out a hand, grabbing her wrist.

She stops what she is doing and eyes me curiously.

"Could you... leave those here?" I ask, feeling a blush creep up my throat. "You know, just in case he, uh... comes back."

Impressively, though visibly struggling, Sera manages to keep her face perfectly straight. "Certainly, miss," she acquiesces smoothly, the consummate professional. "I will just put them somewhere a little... more discreet."

She begins folding the uniform with such a droll expression that I can't help but burst into my own fit of laughter, revelling in the wonderful feeling of last night's stressful events lifting from my shoulders.

We are both still giggling by the time I pull on a dress and Sera finishes folding the tunic. She places it neatly under the bed where it joins the breastplate and boots I had already managed to stash away.

With the basket of laundry balanced expertly on one hip, she strides over to the door and places her hand on the knob.

"Oh, and Miss Abby." She turns back to face me. "I might suggest that you not wear the white dress today." She throws me a coquettish wink before disappearing into the hall and closing the door, leaving me standing with my mouth agape.

I grab a half-finished book from my nightstand and head to the parlour. Having spent the last few days skulking around the Palace, today I think it wise to make myself seen.

When I arrive in the parlour I find the ladies draped in various states of recline across the couches and cushions, some fussing with needlework while others make no pretense at busying themselves at all, content to simply sit and gossip.

Not a single person glances in my direction when I walk across the tiled floor, a pleasant smile plastered on my face. I find a plush chair at the back of the room near the window and settle myself into it, pulling my legs up to tuck against the armrest comfortably. The ladies' voices fade into a distant hum as I allow myself to become absorbed in the book Meg lent me. Since my visit to the prison, I am decidedly confident, and it feels wonderful to lose myself in the story of a fictional character.

I become so engrossed that I fail to notice how much time has gone by until someone lays a hand gently on my shoulder. I jump, jolted abruptly into the present for the second time in one day.

"Sorry to disturb." Meg laughs at my wide-eyed reaction. "I take it you are enjoying the book, then?"

"Yes, immensely." I press my thumb down to hold my place as I slap the book shut.

"Glad to hear it. I was just heading to the garden and I wanted to see if you'd fancy a walk?"

I open my mouth to reply when a nasally voice pipes up from behind Meg, "Are you going outside? I was just thinking about taking a turn myself. I would love to join you, your Highness."

Hawk Nose has sauntered over to us, a simperingly sweet smile covering her pointed face. With her sharp nose and over-the-top, plumage-type hairstyle, I can't help but feel she looks even more like an overgrown bird than usual.

"I am certain that you were, Bellany, but perhaps you could join us another time." Meg gives Hawk Nose a cursory nod before manoeuvring her slim shoulders past the girl, pulling the gathered yellow train of her dress behind her.

I keep my head lowered to hide a smirk as I drop my book onto the chair and follow Meg out of the parlour, feeling the heat of Hawk Nose's glare burning into the back of my neck.

Out in the garden, Meg slips her arm through mine and tilts her head up to catch the rays of the afternoon sun. We stroll together down the cobblestone path, talking amiably about the book and the upcoming ball as we take in the sight of flowers and ferns exploding all around us, an unending wall of colour as the foliage spills across the yard.

"I feel as though I haven't seen you in ages," Meg says lightly as we wander. "Listening to the insipid chatter of the ladies without you there was beginning to wear on me."

"You know, I've realized recently that if you listen carefully to their talk, you can pick up on some real pearls of wisdom," I reply, dodging her questions.

"Is that so?"

"Oh yes. Why, just the other day, someone observed that she could lose weight by eating less dessert, so she split her tart into four slices instead of eight before scarfing down the entire thing."

"My goodness, that is industrious!" Meg laughs.

"Quite brilliant, I thought," I agree, pausing to smell a blossom.

"So, where have you been?" The Princess is maddeningly persistent.

I straighten, pasting a casual expression on my face as I pluck the flower and twirl it in my fingers. "Nowhere terribly interesting. I needed a break from the parlour, so I've been exploring the grounds a bit."

"Exploring" meaning I've been lurking about the various corridors, tracking the guards' movements and schedules.

"You've just been wandering the Palace?" One perfectly arched brow is raised in question.

"Uninterestingly, yes. I know it isn't really delicate behaviour befitting a lady." Rolling my eyes at this, I see Meg give a slight smile. "But I find myself feeling so confined here, sometimes. It helps to be able to get outside and stretch my legs."

"I suppose I can't fault you for that." She sighs. "I know the feeling."

I tuck the flower into my braid and slip my arm through Meg's again. "My poor princess," I tease lightly, falling back into step with her. "I'm sorry for leaving you alone with the ladies. I'll tell you what, why don't you and I go on our own little adventure? We may not be permitted to go into the City, but I have found a couple interesting areas inside our humble Palace."

"I think that is a marvellous idea." Meg seems satisfied.

"Perhaps you could show me some hidden treasures?" I suggest. "I am sure that the secrets filling your head could fill a book."

She giggles mischievously. "I may know a thing or two. Rumour has it that our original King, Traynor, installed a hidden escape tunnel when the Palace was first constructed. Perhaps we could find it."

"Perhaps we can." I wink.

We fall into a companionable silence. As we stroll, I find myself turning over a possibility in my mind, and not for the first time. I imagine what the City would be like if it were ruled over by someone caring, someone with vision and an eye for equality.

I glance over at Meg, studying her. She carries herself with a certain haughtiness that belies the strength lying dormant beneath her surface. Beneath her poised princess façade, there is a kind heart and a fierce determination just aching to be set free.

Meg might just possess the heart of a queen.

We turn at the sound of heavy footsteps. Will, tan under the bright afternoon sunlight, is crossing the garden with his long stride and making his way toward us.

"Good afternoon, your Highness; Lady Abby." He inclines his head respectfully as he draws up, flashing his most charming smile. "Please forgive the interruption. I was just doing a bit of gardening when I heard you talking."

"Not at all, Dr. Cain. I didn't know you had a green thumb," Meg remarks prettily.

"I don't, unfortunately." Will pats his forehead with the scarf loosely circling his neck.

I instantly notice the smudges of dirt staining his shirt and hands. His rumpled appearance is a far cry from the polished doctor I've become accustomed to seeing around Court, and more in tune with the rebel pacing about his musty flat.

"The Palace gardeners are kind enough to grow some medicinal plants for me and I get the pleasure of digging them up." His eyes move over to me, conveying something. He wants to talk.

"How interesting! Can you show us some of your plants?" Meg asks.

"Certainly." Will swings his leather satchel out from under his shoulder and reaches inside. "These are used for relieving headaches. When you chew on the leaves, they get gummy and release a nasty-tasting juice. Pretty foul, but effective." He hands a leaf to Meg and digs back into his bag. "These, right here, are used for sedation."

My eyes snap over to the gnarled bit of mushroom in his hand.

"If you were to grind this up into a powder and drink it, you'd be put right to sleep," he explains.

I take the mushroom from him and examine it, memorizing the look of the fungus.

"Your Highness!" Vitrola's shrill voice cuts across the garden and I clench my shoulders involuntarily.

"Drat. It appears I'm needed for something." Meg sighs. "Thank you for the lesson, Dr. Cain. And Abby, thank you for the respite."

The Princess turns and walks down the path back to the Palace. Standing by the door I can see Vitrola, her expression strained and her hands clutching her ever-present supply of parchments. The Princess' chief of staff is so tightly wound I fear that if she were to relax, she would collapse straight to the floor.

"Would you care to help me prepare these medicines, cousin?" Will asks pleasantly.

"I'd love to," I reply, falling into step beside him and smoothly pocketing the mushroom.

He leads me to a side door, holding it open and then moving beside me as we walk companionably down the hallway. I hang back ever so slightly, letting Will think he is leading me to a new part of the Palace. In truth, I memorized this route a long time ago.

I can't resist a peek inside the infirmary when we walk by. I catch a glimpse of polished stone floors and crisp sheets, white-clad medical assistants going about their duties. When we reach the end of the hallway, Will unlocks a narrow, wooden door and ushers me inside.

His office is one of the inner rooms and has no windows, lit only by a single lantern. Will strikes a match, moving to light the remaining lanterns, bit by bit bringing the room into focus. My attention is captured by the expansive shelves lining one of the walls and I wander over, picking up the occasional item and examining it before placing it back down.

Despite the lack of sunlight, the room is warm and comforting. Glass bottles on a shelf on one side of the room catch the firelight; books line the wall opposite. There is a heavy wooden desk next to the door and a single examination table covered with a sterile, white cloth.

The air is spicy with medicinal fragrances and something else: a whiff of Will's old flat in the City. Immediately, I feel more comfortable here than I have anywhere else in the Palace.

"Make yourself at home," Will says, shaking out the match as he watches me sort through the various medicine bottles.

"Don't mind if I do," I say, replacing the glass jar I was turning over in my hands and moving across the room to look at the bookshelf.

"How is the research going?"

For a moment, I think he is referring to the book I am flipping through, before I remember Meg.

"Very well," I reply; I replace the book and take another.

"It looks as though you and the Princess are becoming close."

I look up at him. He is standing over his desk, sorting the leaves and mushrooms into neat piles.

"She prefers my company to any of the ladies. I think she trusts me." I put the book back and walk over to Will's desk, where I sink into the worn leather chair opposite.

"Good work." He looks up from the messy desk. "I mean it."

"Thanks," I say.

"I heard your talk about exploring the Palace."

"Spying on a spy?" I quirk an eyebrow at him. "Yes, I'm going to see if Meg will show me some of the Palace's secret passageways. Those should prove useful."

"I was referring to you wandering around on your own." Will stops poking through the plants and stares directly at me.

For a moment I think he's onto me and I have to bite down hard on my tongue to keep from confessing my scheme. I pause, swallowing once, and when I speak again, my voice is smooth and even.

"Just performing my due diligence, captain." I allow the barest trace of sarcasm to seep into my tone. "I managed to get my hands on some Palace schematics and I've been looking around, familiarizing myself with the layout."

"I see," he says slowly. He seems to be turning the idea over in his mind. "That was good thinking, but you should have spoken to me about it first."

For a moment I am too shocked to say anything. When I do speak, my voice is tight. "I might have done so, if I could get an appointment."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you're never around, Will. You leave me to play 'pretty pretty princess' for days at a time—without a word of where you're going or what you're plotting—and expect me to just sit back and cool my heels. I'm forever left waiting until you're good and ready to show up."

His dark brows lower in warning. "I can't be here all the time. There is a lot of organization that I need to take part in. Believe it or not, there is more going on here than just your 'princess' game."

"I have no doubt that you do a great deal of organizing," I say, darkly. "What I'm not convinced of is that you can actually act upon these grand plans."

"What were you expecting? That everything would happen overnight? This isn't one of your practical jokes that we're trying to pull off. A little more thought has to go into it."

"Why did you bring me here, exactly? If you thought all I was good for was practical jokes, if you think what I do is so pointless, then why did you drag me into this?" Heat courses through my entire body and I feel myself practically vibrate with rage. This courtier has kept me idle for weeks upon weeks, and then somehow in the span of a couple minutes has managed to inspire abject fury. Realizing that he has the power to affect me in such a way just makes me angrier.

"Keep your voice down," Will mutters between clenched teeth. His hands have curled into fists on the desk and the knuckles have turned bone white.

"Relax, Will. These doors are six inches thick and completely soundproof. There is nothing in this wing except for the infirmary, and the guard assigned to patrol this area won't pass by for another fifteen to twenty minutes. You see, while you have been twiddling your thumbs, hemming and hawing with your rich friends, I have been studying the goings-on." I cross my arms and lean back in the chair.

He shuts his eyes tightly, visibly drawing a breath.

"Look," he says, with distinct effort. As though I am the difficult person. "This type of behaviour is not conducive to what we are trying to accomplish."

"I agree—your behaviour has been completely unacceptable."

"Gods damn it." I jump as he knocks his fists on the solid top of the desk. "Could you just for a moment stop talking and listen?"

I narrow my eyes at him but stay silent.

"You are seriously the most difficult person I have ever met. You know that?" He brings one hand up to squeeze the bridge of his nose.

"If you're going to start in on the personal attacks, I don't see why I should have to sit silently while you run amok over my character."

"That's enough." His voice is sharp and I once again clench my jaw shut, tapping my foot in aggravation.

"What I was going to say was that despite all that, I really do admire your skills and I really do want your help." His hand moves from his nose to run over his shorn head.

I sit as patiently as I can and glare at him. He has inadvertently rubbed dirt across his forehead and stained his linen shirt. I fight the urge to smirk with the satisfaction of seeing careful, composed Will so exasperated.

"That said, I think that you should respect my tactics. You understand what it's like out there." He inclines his head toward the door. "But I understand what it's like in here. We have to be slow and careful in order to get this right."

I stay silent, waiting for him to continue.

"Is that it?" I ask. "May I say something now?"

"I think we still have another ten minutes until the guard comes by, so you may as well," he says tiredly.

"Closer to fifteen minutes. It didn't take you as long to subtly insult me as you think it did." I re-cross my legs and lean forward in my seat. "I am not confident in your ability to pull this off." With a wave of anger still simmering beneath my surface, I aim to hit him where it hurts. "You remain here comfortably day after day, puttering around in your garden or milling about in the City, while I sit in that stuffy parlour bored out of my mind. I ask you, what is that accomplishing? You wanted my help and I'm giving it the best way I know how. I'm the one taking the risk. You're a courtier, Will—you have a safety net. I don't."

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

I shake my head. "You don't get it; that's not the point. I don't care about the risk. What I care about is making sure that this has all been for something."

His eyes burn into mine. "It will be."

"When?" I ask. "Because I've been here for nearly a month, and in that time I've seen nothing change. My friends are still getting shipped off to a war that we have no part in. Commoners are still being oppressed and persecuted. Every day we get closer to this marriage and the certainty that thousands of people will be sent into the Wastelands. Will, we are running out of time."

"I know that." He rubs his head again. "I'm working on it."

"Let me help." I search his face carefully. "I can get myself anywhere in this Palace without being seen. I can find out anything you need to know."

He shakes his head. "It's too dangerous. I know it's difficult, but I really need you to remain with the ladies. If anyone notices you snooping about, then this really will all have been for nothing."

This isn't going anywhere. I don't know how I could have expected anything more from him. His arrogance and control issues really know no bounds.

"You still don't trust me," I say, glowering at him across the heavy desk.

"There's just too much at stake." He meets my gaze and holds it. "I'm not trying to hold you back. I'm trying to warn you."

"Warn me about what?"

"That you aren't as inconspicuous as you think." He leans across the table, shoulders drawn up in either anger or aggravation. "Someone has seen you."

My retort catches in my throat. "Who?"

"He was in my office the other day, inquiring about his only daughter's new best friend." Will sinks into his chair, appearing worn out.

"The King?" The fight ebbs from my body.

"Apparently, you've made an impression." He looks up at me. "I don't want you to take this the wrong way."

"What do you mean?" I press. "What did you tell him?"

"I told him that you and the Princess have a shared interest in scholarly pursuits and how pleased you were to have a friend you could discuss books with." He pauses and regards me as I take in this new information. "I tried to downplay you as somewhat less effervescent."

I snort, feeling both mollified and flattered. "Thanks, I suppose."

He ignores my remark and peers at me intently. "Do you understand what I'm saying? You're pretty and you're clever, Red. People are bound to notice you." He is careful not to use my real name within these walls. "You need to be careful. It is imperative that you not draw any more unnecessary attention to yourself. Do you think you can handle that?"

I bite the inside of my cheek as I take in this new information, feeling my anger recede as the unfamiliar flicker of anxiety creeps up from the pit of my stomach. The King has been here, asking after me. Up until now, I truly felt like I was operating without notice, and for the moment I can't think of anything to say. The world has shifted and I need time to process and sort through the change in events.

"I can handle it," I hear myself say eventually; my voice is cold. "Thanks for looking out for me." I look around the office, toward the shelves and the desk, anywhere but at Will's face. My fists clench at my sides and I know that if I were to meet his gaze, I wouldn't be able to trust my mouth. "Was there anything else?"

"How are you holding up?" His words startle me and I look up before I can stop myself. The corners of his grey eyes crinkle in concern beneath thick brows.

The question is so unexpected that I have to blink a few times in order to refocus my thoughts.

"I'm fine," I say slowly.

He nods. "Because you know, you could tell me if you were feeling a bit overwhelmed. You don't have to have it completely together all of the time." He speaks carefully, a small smile playing at the edge of his lips.

I groan, rubbing a hand over my face. "Gods, Will. You can be the teacher, the rebel, the scolding mother or the friend, but you can't be all of them. Please, just pick a role and stay there, because the constant shifts are exhausting."

He laughs and the sound echoes off the windowless walls. "My apologies. Maybe I'm a complicated person."

"'Complicated' is putting it mildly. I can never tell if you're angry or pleased with me; it seems to switch from one moment to the next." I am suddenly incredibly tired. This comfortable room and Will's heady presence, combined with the sobering shaking up, have left me completely bewildered.

"I suppose I'm both." He leans back in his chair and fiddles with one of his sleeves, untucking it and rolling the material up his forearm, revealing one of his jagged scars. "Your methods may make me insane, but I can't deny that overall you've made amazing progress with the Princess." His mouth turns grim, his gaze steely. "Just be careful."