The girl looked up at her in confusion. “Your clothes?”

“Yes,” Aurora said.

Nanny Stoat jabbed the girl in the side. “Gretchen, you ought to agree. Her dress would pay off a chunk of your family’s debts.”

“Yes, but I can’t possibly—” The girl, Gretchen, shut her mouth and curtsied. “Of course, my queen. Yes. My clothes. And thank you for your kindness to my father.”

Hammond smiled and put his hand on Gretchen’s arm. “Your Majesty, we’d be happy to give you the shirts off our backs, but surely you’d prefer your own?”

“Not today,” Aurora said. “Nanny Stoat, I want you to be in charge for the length of time that I am gone.”

Lord Ortolan cleared his throat. “You cannot seriously mean—”

But she cut him off before he could finish. “I do.” Aurora removed the crown from her head and set it down in front of the old woman. “They’ll listen to you. And they should. Tell them that the signing will happen—there’s just been a delay. You won’t let them forget we have much in common.”

“Including some common enemies,” Nanny Stoat said, glancing at the advisor.

Aurora didn’t have time to dwell on that. She went into the tent and quickly exchanged clothing with Gretchen.

As they returned, Gretchen was still marveling over an embroidered silken slipper. Hammond smiled to see her dressed in such finery.

“Your Majesty,” he said as Aurora was about to head for the stables, “there’s something—not sure if it’s important…”

She paused.

He reached into a sack and brought out a knife. Then he held it out to her hilt-first. “I found this.”

The knife didn’t appear to be very sharp or finely made. The metal was dull. She frowned at it, growing angrier by the moment. She had explicitly forbidden weapons. But something else about it bothered her. Iron. It was a knife forged of cold iron.

The thing was an affront. And the person who had brought it wanted to disrupt the treaty, and maybe do something far worse than that.

“He won’t get in trouble, will he?” Gretchen asked, her hand on her father’s arm.

“Of course not,” Aurora said. “Why would he?”

“It was one of the nobles who dropped it,” Hammond said. “But I knew he’d deny it if I told a guard.”

“Can you describe him?” Aurora asked.

Hammond frowned. “Not his face. But he was a young man with light brown hair, dressed in blue. For a moment, I thought he noticed he’d dropped the weapon, but then he kept on walking. Like maybe he was getting rid of it.”

Aurora turned the knife over in her hand, wondering if it had anything to do with Maleficent’s disappearance. “I’m glad you told me.”