I resist the urge to stuff her back into the bag.

“Spare me your usual speech today,” I say. “I just need you to show me a few things.”

“Invenire puellam pulcherrimam et sapientissimam in tota terra.” She gives it to me anyway, sending familiar chills down my spine. “Et si te amare contigerit, te et omne tuum genus e tenebris tuis noctes liberabo.”

Before I can tell her what I want her to show me, Lafayette bursts through a thicket, stumbling to the ground.

I almost move to help him, until I smell the strong stench of alcohol pervading his skin.

Laughing, he struggles to gain balance. “The dwarves discovered a new diamond mine since we last came here, and they promised to let me keep whatever I find. Want to see?”

“No.”

“Of course, you do.” He pulls two glimmering stones from his pocket, holding them out for me. “Even if we have to return to the village without success, I’ll be rich.”

“Good to see that your priorities are in order,” I say. “You’re supposed to make sure I have the right news about the moon.”

“I already found that, Your Ungrateful Grace.” He scoffs, putting away his riches. “The next full moon is in four nights. At the rate we’re going, we should make it to the iron castle in plenty of time.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re not welcome.” He points to my mirror and steps backward. “I’ll let you return to being a masochist. Tell that old bitch I said, ‘Thank you’ for ruining my life.”

“You’re more than welcome, Lafayette!” she responds, and he throws up his middle finger before walking away.

“Show me the girl.” I stare into the glass once he’s disappeared.

“Which girl?” The hag’s lips curve into a smirk.

“You know who the fuck I’m talking about…”

“The girl you kissed over and over when you thought no one was watching?” She tilts her head to the side. “That girl?”

“The girl. The prettiest one in all the kingdoms.” I await her instant compliance, but she gives me nothing.

“Show me Isabelle Arwyn.” I grip the handle as tightly as I’d like to squeeze her throat. “Now.”

The surface of the glass shifts to pitch black, and then a crouching Isabelle gradually comes into view.

Tears are falling down her face, and her hand is sliding through a place I can’t quite see.

The glass brightens by the second, and the scene shifts back, giving me a complete view.

Isabelle is holding her father’s hand through a dungeon’s iron bars, and I’ve seen that room enough to know exactly where they are.

So, they made it deep into the Eighth Kingdom…

“I think we might’ve made a mistake, Izzie.” Her father coughs. “G’aston wouldn’t have been so bad as your suitor for a little while.”

“He’s not a prince, Daddy.” She shakes her head. “That’s the only way we can possibly guarantee our futures. His regular, basic wealth would never be enough, and he only wanted me for my looks. You said so yourself.”