As they drew Aurora closer, she spotted Lord Ortolan waiting for her by the stage. Her aunties were there, too. The crowd gave a cry when Aurora stepped up. She grinned and waved, and the shouting got louder.

Knotgrass buzzed up to her. “Oh, Aurora, your friends had so many good ideas for riddles!”

“Ah, good,” she said, realizing that though she’d asked her aunties to arrange things and hoped it would keep them from burying the festival in flowers, she had no idea just what they’d arranged for the contest.

“My queen!” Lord Ortolan said, pitching his voice loudly so that the audience heard him. “Your subjects await the opening contest of the festival—a contest to win your hand for a single dance, the first of today!”

At that pause, Aurora jumped in, turning to the crowd. “Thank you for coming. I hope that all of you—my dear subjects—will drink and eat and laugh together.”

Another cheer went up at her words.

Flittle, Knotgrass, and Thistlewit began explaining the contest. Many villagers and courtiers and faeries alike waited in an area separated from the rest of the crowd by ribbons, having signaled their intention to vie for a dance with the queen. From young boys to elderly men with canes, to several people Aurora suspected of being ladies with their hair tucked up in hats, to Fair Folk, at least two dozen contestants were ready to answer riddles. Count Alain was among them, leaning against the stage and whispering with three young noblemen Aurora recognized from court. Robin, too, had come, probably to represent the Moors. Possibly to confound Count Alain.

“I see that Prince Phillip won’t be taking part,” Lord Ortolan observed to Aurora in an undertone. “I heard a rumor that—”

“Yes. He is taking his leave of us soon,” she whispered back, trying not to let him see that it bothered her.

“For our first round,” said Flittle, “I shall ask a riddle and each of you will come and tell me the answer. Answer incorrectly and you leave the stage. Answer right and you remain a player.”

She intoned the first of the riddles:

I saw a being

Of shining beauty.

She came over the roof

And through my window.

Then west she went,

Hurrying home.

With her gone,

Night departed.

Each contestant came forward to whisper an answer to Flittle. Some she nodded at. Others she sent away. The first round eliminated a little under half the contestants.

“The answer is the moon,” said Thistlewit triumphantly. There were murmurs in the audience—perhaps from people who’d guessed correctly, perhaps from those who were sorry to see someone they knew lose. “I shall be the one to speak the next riddle.”

She did so:

Bent over as I am,

Yet I am meant for fighting.

Loosen my string and I stand up taller.

But unstring me and I serve no one.