Isobelle had to say something, she had to do something. But her mind was blank. Always, she had thrown herself into a conversation, trusting that the right words would come. But now she couldn’t make herself take even a step toward him. Couldn’t begin to form the first sentence. What she was up against was simply too great.

For the first time in her life, she was speechless.

There was nothing she could do, except watch tomorrow bear down on her like a knight with a lance. No words were coming. No grand idea arriving. Gazing at Whimsitt’s smug, satisfied face across the ballroom, Isobelle knew this was a man who would accept nothing less than absolute control.

He held the key to her cell, and he would never let her out. Tomorrow, he would discover Gwen belonged in one, too. And when he did, he wouldn’t simply lock her up.

He would have her killed.

Those were the stakes they were playing for.

She felt trapped inside a nightmare—everyone around her laughing and dancing and gossiping, and not a single one of them hearing her scream.

Every noise around her was too loud, every light too bright. All this time, she had thought she and the other ladies were like brightly colored birds, flitting about a beautiful aviary together, not locked in, but rather gorgeously on show. The envy of all.

Now, the gilded edges of the windows, the broad beams across the ceiling, resembled nothing so much as the bars of a cage. All the bright colors were only to distract her from the fact that she was trapped in here, beating her wings helplessly, with no hope of escape.

Tomorrow, whispered Isobelle’s heart. Tomorrow the world ends. And there is nothing you can do to stop it.

And as the musicians struck up the song she’d requested, she turned to find Gwen there in her magical dress, the gold around her lashes glittering like the bars of their cage.

To her horror, Isobelle saw her vision flood with tears. Gwen’s eyes widened, but before she could speak, Isobelle turned and fled. For once not caring if anyone saw her break, she didn’t stop until she’d pushed behind the musicians’ dais and burst through the thick curtains blocking off the balcony.

The cool night air greeted her, the rowdy noise of the ball muted by the thick curtains, and she gripped the railing of the balcony, leaning out over it as far as she could. She dragged in a slow breath, making herself focus on the moonlit land below. The dark outlines of the grandstands around the lists were visible, and beyond them the hills extending all the way to the woods.

“Isobelle?”