A door to the side of the hall opened. The boy from before came in, shoulders back and head up, stiff as a soldier. Behind him walked two younger children, both girls. The older one was about Eleanor’s age, with plain brown hair hanging in a single long braid down her back, strange purple flowers woven into it. The younger girl had red-gold hair, braided the same way, and her eyes were a bright, startling green.

A shiver went down Eleanor’s spine. Because she’d seen these children before, too. Just not their faces—because those had been turned away, in the painting in Mrs. Prosper’s office.

They couldn’t be the same children, Eleanor thought. The children in the painting were the People Who Look Away. And the People Who Look Away were adults. Unless . . .

The Wending could take you to any world. Worlds that are and worlds that were and worlds that could have been. Did that mean it could take them into the past?

They’d been wondering where they were. They should have been wondering when.

“Why did you have these four brought before us?” the Pallid King whispered, and just as the queen’s voice had, his voice seemed to come from just over Eleanor’s shoulder. Like he was leaning down behind her. She steeled herself and tried to keep from shaking.

“They were in the woods. They aren’t from the village. Their clothes are strange,” the boy—the prince?—said, stepping forward. “I thought you would want to see them.”

“Bring one of them to us,” the queen whispered.

The boy nodded. He walked toward them and paused, eyes roving over the four of them. The hedgewitch straightened, opened her mouth as if to volunteer—but then the boy stepped forward and grabbed Eleanor’s elbow, pulling her toward the steps of the dais on which the two thrones sat.

“Hey! Leave her alone!” Pip called, and then grunted like something had hit her in the stomach. Eleanor twisted in time to see her on her knees, wheezing, and Otto being restrained by another one of the soldiers. Eleanor held back a whimper and turned back to the front. She couldn’t bear to lift her eyes to the faces of the king and queen.

The queen leaned forward. Her eyes were round and lidless, and Eleanor could see herself reflected in each one. She looked small and terrified.

She was terrified. Her mouth was dry, and she shook so hard she didn’t know if she could stay standing if the boy took his hand from her arm.