joined them in the gazebo, standing as Prince Tharius had, against one of the pillars, more for support than as a casual pose. “I have no intention of marrying anyone without Father’s approval.”
The girls hummed murmurs of relief and agreement.
Prince Tharius cleared his throat, staying outside the gazebo, so that Lily had to turn around.
“Yes?”
“Before you formulate a speech for your father, I’m afraid I must remind you again of the sorcerer’s deviousness.” He spoke softly.
She waited for him to continue, tired of feeling stupid regarding this sorcery.
“I am not strong enough to overcome his curse. Some semblance of freedom is possible for you. Perhaps, someday, you will offer more to me. For now, all I ask in return is that you dance with me, talk with me, let me feel human for a few hours each night.”
His eyes were so dark. Truly black, not like Runson’s deep blue.
Or Eben’s brown. Had Eben found the mirror, yet?
“I’m afraid your freedom will be a silent one,” Prince Tharius said.
Silent? Oh. Heat drained from her face and everywhere else. How could anything hold heat in this place? She leaned harder against the pillar, until Gwen came and put an arm around her.
“Speak plainly, please, sir,” Gwen said. “You may be unaccustomed to company, but we are unaccustomed to sorcery and illusions. We are all out of our element here.”
Prince Tharius flinched at Gwen’s bluntness. “Forgive me. I am . . . unaccustomed to company, as you say. I will be as clear as I can.” He stepped up next to the pillar opposite Lily and addressed all of them. “During your hours above ground, you cannot speak of anything below. And you cannot speak of the curse, at all, even here. Nothing.”
That’s what Lily had thought.
“And you, Your Highness, because you are the one most closely linked to my own curse, the one who holds the key to my freedom as well as your own, you should not speak at all.”
That’s what she’d thought, too. She wouldn’t be able to speak to Father, to brainstorm ideas with Eben, to seek help from Yarrow. She was on her own. She sagged, and Gwen guided her to the bench, where she dropped down next to Hazel. Ivy squeezed her hand hard. Lily hung on tightly, the little fingers grounding her to what mattered most in all of this.
Melantha took a breath to speak, a challenging gleam in her eye.
Prince Tharius addressed her first. “No words at all.”
Melantha slumped on the bench and crossed her arms.
“What if we forget?” Azure asked.
Prince Tharius tapped his throat. “Your pendants will remind you. But, your sister carries the heavier burden.”
She didn’t want to ask.
Azure did. “How?”
“The rest of you cannot speak of the undergarden, but your sister should not.”
Gwen cleared her throat and glared pointedly at him.
“Yes. More plainly.” He addressed Lily. “You hold the power to end this curse. Say you will marry me, anywhere at any time, and it ends. Say anything else, and my help is nullified. You and your sisters must return to me, and stay until you choose the right words.”
“This is rot!” Melantha jumped up. “How do we know anything you’re saying is true? This place is full of illusions and lies. You could be the biggest one of all.”
“Mel,” Lily said, her tone a warning. They didn’t need to anger a sorcerer. The man had just spun silver and diamonds from spiderwebs and dew, and he conjured eleven more from nothing. If he considered that to be power of no consequence, she feared the power that had placed the curse on him, that she had exposed the girls to. That he could go up against such power at all frightened her. She couldn’t let a sorcerer onto the throne of Ituria, even one such as Prince Tharius.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I have never known a life without sorcery. This must seem as strange to you as the sun and moon would be to me.”
“I want to go home,” Ivy whispered.
Lily squeezed her