His mouth trembled. Vasilisa, round and lucid eyes blinking, looked up toward him. Carefully, he took her hand, and placed the chocolate back into her palm. He held it there, no matter how hard she tried to give it to him. And then her eyes left him. For such a spirited girl, her eyes filled with tears surprisingly quickly. She returned to her sisters, who swept their arms around her.

Poor children. The evening was drawing to a close, and their stories to a close soon after. They were whispering to one another in Russian that they were still safe, for their parents were undoubtedly negotiating with many interested people. They were wrong. They were all going to die. Hugo first, the princesses next. Months from now, not long really, all three princesses would die horribly, never rescued. Is it important to know which was strangled, which hanged herself, which had things far worse done? Or is it more important to look away?

Above the room now, looking down—its timbers and floors and the sylvan glade painted on its walls—this small group was beginning to fall apart. Aarne was tidying dishes, knives, and forks without a single clatter. There were only moments left. This evening would disappear, and no one would ever know about it.

Here was Hugo, facing the sisters, the two eldest kissing Vasilisa at the edge of the dance floor in their own, learned, shared, wavelike rhythms. Goodbye, they were all thinking. Hugo could feel the lateness of the hour. How Wodziczko had just stood in the courtyard, neither retreating nor attacking. Standing. The impact. The flight of the bolt. Hugo could see the door through which he’d entered. He knew how cold it would be outside. Goodbye.

The princesses claimed, separately and together, that their guest’s charm and vigor had made them stay awake longer than they should. A groom would take Hugo back to Solnechny Strana via pony sleigh. As he was being told he’d been delightful to come, Hugo saw Wodziczko put his pawlike mitten to his ear. The princesses were telling him he was so brave to have saved them, such a dancer, so graceful, they were forever in his debt. They filed to the end of the room, and each curtsied toward Hugo, made the sign of the cross, and left, Anna first, then Maria, then Vasilisa, each of them using motions identical to her sisters. There wasn’t a hesitation among them.

Hugo was left alone.

The room seemed especially empty now. It seemed to be so late the clock didn’t actually have an hour for it. Aarne returned with Hugo’s vast coat, which, now that he had been separated from it for several hours, he realized stank of garbage. He could hear the bolt leaving his crossbow. He could feel how the tiller quivered.

Outside, they were once again beside the Greek Orthodox cross in the courtyard. The pony was being harnessed.