After all, Lovisa was famous. Everyone wanted to have lunch with her. Strangers, acquaintances, family friends, lawyers—especially lawyers. So many people were trying to push themselves into Lovisa’s life right now to “help” her with her family situation that it was hard to do her schoolwork, walk through campus to class, cross the city. People seemed to recognize her immediately. The white streak in her hair that marked her as Ferla’s daughter turned her into a beacon for opportunists. A few of her friends—Nev, Mari, some of Mari’s crowd, and even a few teachers, like Gorga Balava—had taken to offering their chaperonage, wherever she went. Lovisa had a feeling that some of them offered because they liked the association with a notorious celebrity. But some of them—Nev, Mari, Gorga—seemed actually concerned for her.

What surprised Lovisa about the invitation was that when she arrived at the queen’s hotel and was ushered into the dining room, the queen was the only person in the room.

In fact, once Lovisa was seated, Bitterblue got up, pulled the door shut, then sat catty-corner to Lovisa at a table that would easily have accommodated twenty.

Lovisa was tired of fuss. She also had a lot of homework to get back to. “Bitterblue?” she said. “What’s this about?”

“Have some duck, it’s delicious,” said the queen, whose plate was already full. “There was a soup, but I told them to bring it back later. I’m too hungry to be filling my stomach with water.”

“My parents starved you,” said Lovisa, with a small implosion of shame.

“I shouldn’t have reminded you,” said the queen more gently. “I’m sorry. You didn’t starve me, Lovisa.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Lovisa. “Why are we having a secret meeting?”

“I’ll get to the point,” said the queen. “I’ve been wondering if it would help you if I were to pretend that I was the one who overheard your mother yelling at your father. That I was awake when your father struck Pari Parnin down, while your mother tried to stop him. That I, not you, saw him carry Pari to the airship.”

The queen kept talking, but Lovisa hardly heard, because she’d entered a beautiful kind of shock.

“Why?” she heard herself saying. “Why? Bitterblue? Why would you do this?”

For the first time in the conversation, the queen looked uncertain.

No, Lovisa thought to herself, watching Bitterblue’s quiet, steady face, her firm chin. The eyes that seemed to shine at Lovisa with unshed tears. She’s not uncertain.

She sees me, Lovisa thought, falling into another, new surprise. She understands.

“It will cost me nothing,” the queen said quietly.

“I can’t quite believe that. My father will refute you, accuse you of lying. And you’ll know he’s right.”