I hardly touched my dinner and didn’t want to dance, but I opened the ball with Prince Bertilak anyway, only just remembering to thank him for the tiara, even as it pressed down on my skull. Constantine approached next. When he left me to rejoin his son and Myrddin at the head table, the Earl of Norfolk drew near, reminding me he’d won the joust. I recalled with a pang the ribbon tied to his lance and the rose I’d given Bear, now pressed between the pages of my copy of Beowulf.

More than anything, I wished the melee’s victor were present to claim me.

As I danced with Norfolk, I watched Myrddin, Bertilak, and Constantine at their table. Were they planning Bear’s punishment at that very moment? Had they found us out? Or was the whole of our friendship—of whatever we meant to one another—beneath their notice entirely?

Yu and Captain Lang stood in another corner, talking to a woman, their conference quiet but urgent. Though on first glance she seemed to be dressed like the other ladies at the ball, as I studied her more carefully I saw that her elegant blue cloak was drawn tight around a worn dress damp with rain. Pins poked haphazardly from the knot styled high on her head, as though she’d thrown herself together in a hurry.

She glanced around and pressed a folded letter into Lang’s hands, marked with a green seal. With a jolt, I noticed the yellow cowslip bloom poking from beneath her cloak.

My eyes met Lang’s across the crowded hall.

Criminals?

Not in England’s eyes.

A rather reckless group.

Lang’s face was pale. I shook my head and turned away.

I wanted to shake him. I wanted to go to my room, to cry and lock my door, to fling the tiara against a wall and watch it shatter into a thousand pieces of emerald and pearl. But I couldn’t break down, couldn’t embarrass someone else or punish them for my foolishness.

So I shook hands over and over as this earl or that baron introduced himself. I greeted Veery’s father, Lord Bedrawt, around the lump in my throat. As Myrddin and Sir Ector discussed his son Kay’s performance in the melee, I resisted thoughts of Bear kneeling in front of me, hoping they missed the forlorn note in my voice as I agreed the boys and their friends had fought exceptionally well.

Finally, the clock began to chime midnight, and the crowds drifted off the dance floor. One by one, my crew came to surround me where I stood in the center of the room. Lang, his spare lips tense. Yu, keen eyes scanning the crowd. Cobie, sharp as a knife in her black dress. Skop, broad shoulders near to me, cracking his knuckles. And Perrault. Always Perrault, close by.

Once the crowd stilled, King Constantine spoke.