Isobelle squawked and nearly fell over the balcony railing—then Gwen’s arms were around her, pulling her back. She turned into that warm embrace, and she let herself sob all over Gwen’s beautiful dress, clinging to the other girl as though she might still fall at any moment.

“Isobelle,” Gwen repeated, more softly. Comfort, now—no longer a question.

“I can’t do it,” Isobelle finally let herself whisper. “I can’t do it tomorrow.”

“Time won’t stop because we want it to,” Gwen murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Isobelle leaned back enough to look up at her, and she couldn’t stop the words spilling out. “We can’t stop time. But we could get more of it.”

“What?” Gwen frowned. “You mean reschedule the joust? I don’t think . . .”

“No!” Wild hope was flickering to life inside Isobelle, jumping from one part of her brain to another, like a fire coming to life and sending sparks to each new piece of kindling. “We can get more time, Gwen. All we have to do is take it. We could go. We could run. Olivia could make it happen, you know she could. We could go tonight.”

“What?” Gwen drew back to stare at her. “Run? Where?”

“Anywhere! I don’t care where it is, as long as we’re both there.”

But Gwen was shaking her head, and icy rain was starting to patter down on Isobelle’s wild flame of hope. “Isobelle, I . . . I can’t just run away.”

“Yes, you can!” She found Gwen’s hands, took hold of them, squeezed them to try to make her see. “Why would you stay here?”

“To fight!” Gwen shot back. “To win. To earn your freedom, and prove myself. That was always the plan, that was why we did all of this. I can do it, Isobelle—I can win this thing.”

“I don’t doubt it. But then what?” Isobelle pressed. “After you win?”

“We’ll deal with that when we get there,” Gwen said quietly. “I can’t keep pretending I’m something other than who I am. Once they see me win, once they see who I am—”

“You’re dreaming, Gwen,” Isobelle snapped. “You must know that. When you win, they’ll force you to show your face. And when they see you’re not a man, they’ll kill you for it. That’s what will happen.”

“But maybe not!” Gwen protested. “They’ll have seen what I can do—what we can do, working together. Maybe . . . maybe . . .” Gwen faltered, reaching for something impossible and failing to find it. Frustrated, she blurted, “Why bring me here, do all this, only to give up? This isn’t just your dream, Isobelle—it’s mine now, too. And I think it always was mine, you just showed me how to let myself want it.”