Harry would have sided with the ogre, just on principle, but something was wrong. Princess Georgina seemed to be weeping. Great drops of liquid rolled down her translucent cheeks and slowly turned to gold as they fell. They tinkled as they hit the stone floor and rolled away.

Harry was mesmerized; he couldn’t take his eyes away from her sorrow. He wanted to yell at the young king, Here is your magic! Look to the lady beside you. But, of course, he couldn’t speak. And it turned out he was wrong: It was actually the princess, not the young king, who wanted the tin stag. The young king was merely acting as the princess’s agent. Well, here was an entirely different matter. If Princess Georgina desired the stag, she should have it, even if it was a ratty old thing.

But the ugly ogre loved the tin stag; it was his most precious possession. To prove it, he threw the stag down and stamped on it until the stag groaned and broke into pieces. The ogre stared at it, lying there at his feet, bleeding lead, and smiled. He looked into the princess’s eyes and pointed. There, take it. I’ve killed it, anyway.

Then a wondrous thing happened.

Princess Georgina knelt beside the shattered stag and wept, and as she did, her golden tears fell upon the beast.

Where they lay, they formed a bond, soldering together the tin until the stag was whole again, made of both tin and gold. The princess smiled and held the strange animal to her breast, and there the stag nuzzled his head. She lifted him up, and she and the young king turned with their dubious prize.

But Harry could see over her shoulder that the ogre did not like this outcome. All the love he’d borne the tin stag had now turned to hatred of the princess who had stolen it away. He wanted to shout to the young king, Be careful! Watch the princess’s back! The ogre means her harm and will not rest until he has his revenge! But however much he tried, he could not speak.

You never can in dreams.

GEORGE CRADLED HARRY’S HEAD in her lap and tried not to sob at the terrible marks on his face. His lips and eyes were swollen black. Fresh blood was smeared from a cut across an eyebrow and another beneath an ear. His hair was stringy and dirty, and she very much feared that part of the dirt was actually dried blood.

“The sooner we’re out of here, the better,” Oscar muttered. He slammed the carriage door behind him.

“Indeed.” Tony rapped sharply on the ceiling, signaling the driver.

The carriage pulled away from Granville House. George didn’t need to look back to know that its owner stared malevolently after them. She braced her body to cushion the bumps from Harry as he lay on the seat beside her.