Marjory allowed herself to be convinced to sit and let Aurora weave ribbons through her hair. When they were done, Marjory looked into the queen’s mirror with a shy smile, turning her head back and forth.

“Do you have plans for the festival?” Aurora asked.

“My sisters are coming up from the mill,” Marjory said delightedly, “and we’re going to play all the games and listen to the musicians. I hear there’s a wonderful storyteller that has a tale of being turned into a magical cat!”

Aurora supposed it was a good sign that the man hadn’t fled the kingdom. Maybe her godmother was right, and the experience had taught him a lesson and not harmed him any.

She hoped that was the case, at least.

And yet it was with some trepidation about the day ahead that she lifted the golden flower-and-leaf crown that signaled her as queen of Perceforest and the Moors and placed it on her head. With one last smile at Marjory, she headed for the palace grounds.

Musicians were playing, and jugglers were tossing shining balls into the air. Guests had arrived. Courtiers walked along the grounds in groups, with pages and maids by their sides. Villagers wandered on the grass, giggling and pointing. Children ran in packs, getting their best clothes dirty. And she saw groups of faeries, too. Faeries made of moss and bark. Pixies and hobs. Foxkin and wallerbogs and hedgehog faeries. The humans gave them a wide berth, but they were there. All of them together, receiving pennies and cakes and cups of cider from palace servants.

The cooks had begun to set out the first course of entremets. These divertissements—like castles of spun sugar, and pies that released live doves into the sky, and swans that seemed to breathe real fire—caused spectators to gasp in surprise. The children, especially, many of whom had not so much as tasted sugar before and had never seen such things, were in transports of delight.

Lady Fiora walked up to Aurora, along with Lady Sybil. Lady Fiora’s black hair was braided up on her head, and she wore a gown of the palest pink. Lady Sybil wore yellow with matching ribbons and a hair caul of gold net.

“You look splendid, Your Majesty,” exclaimed Lady Sybil.

“As do you,” said Aurora, grinning. “Both of you.”

“But you’re not wearing the necklace,” said Lady Fiora. “The one my brother had made for you. Didn’t you like it?”

“I thought the iron was inappropriate for today,” said Aurora stiffly.

“Ah,” Lady Fiora said, changing the subject with a nervous laugh. “Are you ready for the contest?”

Lady Sybil took Aurora’s hand. “Oh, you must come. Everyone’s so eager.”

Aurora looked toward the crowd gathered around a stage and saw Knotgrass flying over them. “Are there many contestants?”

Lady Sybil giggled. “You’ll see!”