Only him. Elisabeth knew with her whole heart that she would know him when she found him. Her soul would reach across the gap and recognize his right away. She knew he was not the pompous duke, so now, she rode. Away, away, away. Windstorm, hailstorm, tempest. Climbing up into the hills where low shrubs, rolling fields, and mirror-bright lakes spread out below her in every direction.

She only wished she could take Helene out into these hills with her, bring her back to herself. They could forage for berries, soaking their dress hems in dew. Lay out under the stars at night. Live, breathe, and stop trying to fold themselves into some other shape—and for what? There was nothing worth losing yourself over: not your mother’s whims, not even an emperor. That’s what Elisabeth had told her sister last week after Helene accidentally mislabeled the forks during etiquette lessons: If he doesn’t love you for you, then he doesn’t deserve you. If you had to be prim and proper all the time, know every fork by name … wouldn’t you just suffocate in the box they forced you into?

Besides, Elisabeth had heard the talk. There’d been an attempt on the emperor’s life. Her heart twisted in her chest at the thought that the engagement might put Helene in danger too.

Elisabeth urged Puck on faster, tightening her hands around the reins. She was a wild thing, untamable in the way of a storm or a fire. She’d never let herself become what Mother wanted her to be: a girl without hope, without dreams, without love. She would find her great love one day, and they’d be untamable together.

Today, Puck was the only one who understood that feeling. Her beloved horse was the only one who truly knew her, knew what it was to be free. She felt a rush of affection for him as they crested a hill, and she softened the pace. She was on a ridge, a steep, rocky drop on either side, the sun a pink-yellow orb in the distance.

She closed her eyes, reveling in the tickle of sun on her skin, the smell of forest pine in the air, the strength of Puck beneath her. If only all of life could feel like this—so lived in, so real.

But then, unexpectedly, the world tilted. Puck bucked beneath her, and Elisabeth flew through the air, righting herself just enough to fall on her hands and knees. She gasped at the impact, her knees throbbing with it, hands clutching at the grass as if those fragile green stalks could anchor her to the earth.

When she looked up, Puck was disappearing down the ridge path, wild from whatever spooked him.

And then she saw it: a grass snake. This one wasn’t poisonous, but Puck didn’t know that. He hated snakes like she hated dukes. They’d both flee before the bite came.