Aurora thought of his resolution to wear heavy shoes so that she could tread on his feet as much as she liked, and smiled. If she could open the dancing with him, she could relax. He would guide her through the steps without judging her for not knowing them even half as well as any other girl from one of the noble houses would have.

“I suppose I could dance with him if it’s the polite thing to do,” she said, hoping it wasn’t obvious what a relief that would be.

But Lady Fiora looked uncertain. “It might seem as though you prefer him to your other suitors,” she said.

“Suitors?” Aurora echoed. “No, no, he’s leaving for Ulstead, as you yourself told me.”

For a moment, she couldn’t help thinking about the night before and his nervousness. He’d wanted to tell her something even after finding out she knew about his going back to Ulstead. And as he’d begun to speak, before her godmother arrived, she’d been afraid that maybe he was going to tell her about something awful. Something worse than leaving. What if he anticipated being busy with his studies and wanted to warn her that he would no longer have time for her? What if he no longer even wished to keep her as a distant friend?

Perhaps Maleficent was right to worry. If the thought of losing friendship was this painful, losing love must be terrible.

Lady Sybil looked as disappointed as Aurora felt. “I suppose you could choose an elder statesman. Dancing with someone like that could offend no one, but it does seem very dull.”

Opening the dancing with someone like the fusty Lord Ortolan would be awful.

“Perhaps I just shouldn’t dance at all,” Aurora said, but the girls immediately disabused her of that notion.

“Oh, you must dance!” Lady Sybil said. “If you don’t, it will be as though you’re saying you don’t approve of it. No one will dance if you don’t.”

“I think my brother could be helpful,” said Lady Fiora. “Surely no one would think it was exceptional if you walked out with someone from your own land, someone whose family has been loyal for so long. And you know he’s the height of elegance.”

Aurora thought of the cold iron necklace. “I don’t think—” At that moment, her aunts flew into the room in their colorful bright gowns.

“Aurora!” said Knotgrass. “We would like your thoughts on some garlands.”

“Yes,” said Thistlewit. “I prefer daisies, but—”

“Bluebells would be better,” said Flittle.

“Everyone likes peonies,” insisted Knotgrass.

“So you see, my dear,” said Thistlewit, “you must decide. We wish to drape your festival in flowers. Though it will be hard work to conjure so many petals, you know there’s nothing we won’t do for your happiness.”

“Well, very little,” said Flittle.

“Only a few things,” Knotgrass put in.