I glance at Amina, who snores loudly on her pile of blankets. “Do you think she will understand?”

“No. She won’t. But it’s not her decision. Please promise me you’ll be cautious. Stay out of sight and do not, under any circumstances, go home to see your parents. I’m sure the king has eyes on your house, just in case you turn back up.”

“Of course,” I say. “I need to see her, to tell her that things will be different, and, well, to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?” Constance asks, confused.

“It feels like all I ever did was cause her pain. I never wanted that. She chose to do what was expected of her, and can I really blame her? Maybe I was selfish for trying to get her to change her mind.”

“You weren’t selfish,” Constance says. “You saw a future for yourself that she couldn’t imagine. You wanted her to believe that the two of you could find a way through all this. That’s what happens when you care about someone. And when you’re brave enough to imagine a different life.” She brings my hand to her lips and kisses it gently, letting her mouth linger there. “Be careful.”

I take a moment to look at her, to see if there is anything I haven’t already memorized about her face. If I stay another moment, I’ll change my mind, so I leave, not daring to look back.

I ride into town in the early morning hours; the lamplighters are making the rounds, snuffing out the lamps with their hooked poles. An air of melancholy hangs over the city like a gathering of storm clouds, ready to split open and wash the land in a torrent of pain and sadness.

As I make my way through town, dead set on finding Erin and telling her things are going to change even if I have to die trying, I realize I have no clue where she lives now. Probably with Édouard, and not with her parents in the little house with the wide porch on Strattman Street. I decide to go to Liv’s house first to see if her parents know where Erin is.

I tether my horse and go to Havasaw Lane on foot. I hang back along the row of houses across the street from Liv’s. Her younger sisters, Mina and Cosette, are sitting in the front window. They look very much like Liv. An ache grips me so tightly I lose my breath. Nothing, not time or distance or distraction, has numbed the pain of her loss.

I cross the street and walk toward the house. As I approach the front step, I can hear the girls reading the passages of Cinderella’s tale. They spot me and disappear from the window.

“Papa! There’s a strange man outside!”

At least my disguise seems to be working. I hear footsteps barreling up to the front door, and when it swings open, Liv’s father stands there, his face ruddy, his eyes narrow.

“Who are you?” he asks, blocking the doorway. “What do you want?”

He stares at me in confusion before his eyes widen and his jaw goes slack. He looks up and down the street and motions for me to come inside. Locking the door behind us, he turns to me as he draws the curtains closed. “Were you followed?”

“No. I was very careful,” I say. “I’m so sorry to show up like this, but—” Liv’s mother appears in the living room. She seems smaller than the last time I saw her, more delicate. I take off my cap. “Oh, Mrs. Preston, I—I’m so sorry I—”

“Sophia?” She rushes forward and puts her arms around me. “You’re alive! We didn’t know where you had gone. We thought the king had taken you away or—or worse.” Tears stream down her face, and I’m miserable that she is crying for me when her own daughter lies cold in the ground.

“I’m fine, really I am.” I wipe the tears from my own eyes. “I know about Liv. I’m so sorry.”

“To your room this instant,” Liv’s father says to her sisters.

The girls scurry up the stairs, and I follow Mrs. Preston into the kitchen, where she takes a seat at the table. She’s one of those women who wears every ounce of heartache on her sleeve. Her small frame seems like it might collapse under its weight at any moment. Mr. Preston pours her a cup of tea and sits it in front of her, gently touching her shoulder.

“We did everything exactly as we were supposed to,” Mrs. Preston says. “We recited the verses, knew them all by heart. We served the king, followed the rules, and two years in a row we’ve been denied a visit by a godmother. I wish I knew what we did wrong.”

I clench my jaw. She believes, as Liv did, that the stories are real, and while I now know there was real magic involved, it wasn’t something you earned by being faithful to the palace or reading Cinderella’s story a million times over.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I say. “Please understand that.”

Mrs. Preston shakes her head. “I wish you could have come to the funeral. It was lovely, and you were such a good friend to her.”

Tears fall again, and I turn away. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”

“No, no. Don’t apologize,” says Mr. Preston, shaking his head. “You managed to get away. I’m sure your parents miss you, but you shouldn’t go back.”

“Marcus,” Mrs. Preston interjects.

“I don’t mean to give the impression that I’m speaking ill of your parents,” he says. “But it’s my sincerest wish that you never have to be a part of that terrible ball ever again. And now that he’s ordered a cotillion, he’ll have another opportunity to ruin our lives.” I turn to look at him. He gives me hope that there are still good people in Lille.

Mrs. Preston pats the air with her hands, urging him to quiet his voice, which he does immediately.

“I have two more who will have to—” Mr. Preston stops short. His face contorts into a mask of pain. “They’re just eleven and thirteen, but the thought never leaves my mind that very soon I’ll be forced to send them off to the palace.” He fights back tears.

Mrs. Preston stares out the kitchen window. “Everyone wants to be chosen, but they don’t think about what that really means. Have you seen what happened to Erin?”

My heart almost stops. “I saw her in the market. I saw the bruises. Her fiancé, Édouard, had—”

“Husband,” says Mrs. Preston, as if she knows what I am going to say. “He’s her husband now. It would have been better if she hadn’t been chosen at all.”

“Where is she?” I ask.

“They’ll be living in Eastern Lille, behind the gates, but Erin’s parents couldn’t come up with the dowry they’d promised, and so Édouard and Erin have been staying about a mile past the orchard until the money is paid in full,” says Mrs. Preston. “I’ve gone to see her twice and was turned away at the door each time. He didn’t even let her come to Liv’s funeral. I think he resents having to stay so close to us commoners and takes it out on her.”

“I want to put an end to it,” I say. “The ball, the laws, the traditions. All of it.”

Mrs. Preston glances toward the stairs. “People will not let go of those things so easily. I sometimes think they don’t even understand that they are doing anything wrong.”

“I don’t pity their ignorance,” I say. “They see what’s going on. We all do. We have to show them a better way.”