Elowen gaped at the newsprint on the table before her. The whole market had been buzzing when she went out to purchase milk and eggs for her pastries. Prince Fletcher of Cyra was engaged to Princess Estefania de Sahar.

The news had brought her heart into her throat. Something in her bones seemed to grind and heave as she read the missive, like someone had made a cosmic mistake.

She needed to get her head back into her pastries. Granted, her intuition usually wasn't wrong, but she didn't know why she felt so revolted that a man she'd met two days ago was marrying an exiled princess.

Elowen had met Estefania's brother, Prince Bastien. He'd been living in Nene for sixteen years and was generous. Surely, his sister was equally respectable.

Cookie looked at the print and sighed. "Cyra is having a set of balls to congratulate the couple. I imagine your family will need to be in attendance."

She hadn't even thought of that. Brennon wouldn't let her escape a ball like this. He'd say that they had to represent the future of Nene. Her stepmother would happily parade around her two healthy daughters, and even her father would attend a spectacle like this.

"The ball is the day after tomorrow," Cookie said. "Take the day off, milady. Have Britt get your dresses ready and coordinate with Lord Brennon. You really cannot skip this occasion, Lady Elowen."

Elowen's spine stiffened. Cookie was right. She couldn't afford to miss this ball. Usually, she hated these occasions, but every fiber of her being was screaming that she, Lady Elowen de Nene, needed to attend this one.

"Very well," Elowen said, setting aside the flour bag she was about to rip into.

Cookie raised a gray eyebrow. "You aren't going to fight me on this, milady?"

"Nope," Elowen smiled. "You're right, Cookie. I need to be at that party."

Her elderly friend didn't look amused. "Who are you, and what have you done with my Elowen?"

Elowen laughed. "I'm growing up, Cookie."

The door to the kitchen flew open, and her brother Brennon stood there carrying a few parcels. His chestnut hair was rumpled, and he looked like he'd slept in his tunic.

"There you are, El," he said. "I suppose you heard about the prince. I got word from Papa, and he wants us to meet him in Cyra tomorrow morning to be first in the receiving line. We're lucky I suspected there might be a royal event like this soon, and I ordered you some dresses when I was in Sahar. I think this is enough outfits for three days of balls."

"Three?" Elowen's eyes widened.

Brennon sighed. "I know you don't like parties, but this is really important. Papa says we must represent Nene. The countess is bringing her daughters. Don't make me go with our droll stepsisters."

"She claims she wants to go, milord," Cookie said.

Brennon looked at his sister with an odd expression. "El, I hope that's true. We can have our own fun tasting every pastry that the Cyran chefs put out and comparing them to yours."

Elowen resisted the urge to grin. Her brother did know all the ways to her heart. Besides, how bad could the ball be if Brennon stayed by her side?

"Go clean up, milady," Cookie pushed her towards the door.

Elowen wandered past her brother and out towards the main stairs of the house. Still, she didn't go straight to her room. She had to tell Wryn where she would be for a few days.

Wryn was so lonely, and she hated to leave her alone. Unfortunately Elowen still couldn't shake the feeling that she needed to see Fletcher at that ball. He still hadn't gotten her recipe from her, so she could at least use that as an excuse to talk to him.

Elowen didn't usually use the main stairs to get to the attic since it meant cutting through her stepmother's herb room. Countess Monique had many strange plants she'd collected and curated for medicinal properties.

She admired the countess's attempts to heal her youngest daughter. However, despite the numerous doctors coming in and out of the home and the countess's medicinal concoctions, there had been little success in that department.

The countess spent much of her free time pruning leaves and grinding roots in the herb room. The room smelled sickly sweet and earthy, making anyone who entered unsteady. If Elowen hadn't seen the countess's work, she might have wondered what her stepmother truly did in that room.

Today was no exception. The countess had rolled up the sleeves of her magnificent dress made from the finest rare fairy silk and was muttering as she minced some rare exotic flowers. She perused an ancient text Elowen couldn't read, and her beady eyes glared at the words as if they displeased her.

Elowen didn't wish to disturb her stepmother, so she tried to creep around the edge of the room silently. Unfortunately, the countess had an almost uncanny ability to notice anything out of place in her workshop, and she had ears like a hawk.

"Elowen de Nene," her voice was sharp as she slammed the massive tome she was reading closed with a snap. "Why are you in my workshop?"

Elowen's entire body tensed. While she didn't dislike her stepmother, she did wish her father hadn't chosen Monique as his wife. She had a short temper and was nothing like her mother's warm presence in the house.

She didn't know why her body begged her to flee, but she knew she had to stand her ground. "I was going up to talk to Wryn."

"It's not mealtime," the countess's voice was cold. "Wryn has been ordered to rest by her doctors. You shouldn't interrupt the only remedies they can give her her."

"I only wished to tell her about the balls," Elowen said.

Despite her fears, she always felt her tongue loosened in the countess's presence. Elowen wondered if Monique had wished for people to be unable to lie to her when she'd gotten the opportunity to receive a wish from a fairy when she turned twenty-one. She'd seen people of all ranks spill their deepest, darkest secrets before the countess since she'd moved into Elowen's home.

"You wish to bother my daughter with trivial news about balls," the countess's voice dripped with malice.

Once again, Elowen couldn't help but be truthful. "Wryn always wants to hear about our parties, so I thought she'd be interested in the balls we'll all be attending. After all, it's not every day that Prince Fletcher gets engaged to Estefania de Sahar."

The countess's warm skin drained, leaving her white, and her lips hardened into a line of fury. "Estefania de Sahar is marrying the Cyran Crown Prince?"

Elowen nodded. She knew that her stepmother had a mixed history with both neighboring kingdoms. A Cyran noble had jilted her when she was young, and the queen of Sahar banished her after she petitioned for any magic found to be used to help with Wryn's illness.

Nene itself had welcomed the countess when she had nowhere left to go. Elowen's father became charmed by the woman, and Elowen suspected that the countess had coveted the Earl's magical artifacts.

"I knew your father wanted us to attend some party," the countess said. "But the specifics alluded him."

"There's an invitation on every street corner," Elowen said. "The whole town is making preparations to go to Cyra. People are saying it will be the event of the generation."

The countess drummed her long nails on the grooved leather of her book. "Yes, I suppose that's true. And Estefania de Sahar is coming back. She hasn't been seen in sixteen years."

Elowen interrupted the countess's musings. "I really must tell Wryn. May I go upstairs?"

The countess waved her hand in dismissal and reopened her ancient book, now muttering in a language long unspoken. Elowen took the opportunity and made a break for the stairs in the back of the lab.

When she reached the top of the stairs, Elowen was breathing hard. She knocked on the door and waited for her friend.

She heard a crash behind the door and the muffled curse of Wryn. Elowen was about to cry out to see if her friend needed help when Wryn's voice floated through the air, muffled by the door. "Who is it?"

"Everything all right in there?" Elowen asked.

"Oh, it's you," Wryn sounded relieved. "Hello, Elowen."

Elowen frowned. "Who were you expecting?"

Wryn had little contact with anyone. As far as Elowen knew, the only people who brought the girl meals were Cookie and her. Other than the occasional doctor, not even the countess entered Wryn's chamber.

"No one," Wryn said quickly. "Why would I be expecting anyone? No one comes to see me. I'm fine. No one is here. I'm expecting no one."

Wryn wasn't one to ramble. Elowen was just about to ask what had gotten into the poor girl when she remembered she'd come up here for a reason.

"Prince Fletcher is marrying Princess Estefania, and I'm traveling to Cyra for a set of balls to celebrate," Elowen blurted.

There was another crashing sound. Something slammed against the door, and Wryn gasped, then cried out.

"Bash," Wryn's voice was shrill. "What is the matter with you?"

Elowen longed to throw open the door and demand to know what was happening. Unfortunately, she didn't have the key to Wryn's room and didn't want to worsen the countess's mood.

Instead, she tried for a concerned elder sisterly approach. "Wryn, is something wrong? Should I call on the doctor?"

"No," Wryn's reply was just as piercing and sudden. "I mean, no, that won't be necessary. I'm fine, El."

Now, she was really concerned. "Are you sure, Wryn?"

"Yes," Wryn said. "Can you keep a secret?"

"What is it, Wryn?" Elowen asked.

Wryn's voice was barely audible through the door. "There's a little frog that visits me every day and tells me about the outside world."

Elowen frowned. "That's impossible."

"His name is Bash," Wryn said. "And he is real Elowen. He's incredibly smart, and he knows so many things."

That didn't alleviate Elowen's fears. Was Wryn so ill she was hallucinating? There was no way there was a talking frog in her room. There was no magic after all. No wish left to create such a thing.

"Elowen, he's real," Wryn said as if she sensed that Elowen didn't believe her.

If Wryn's illness had progressed to hallucinations, she was likely much sicker than the countess had told her. Elowen wondered if Wryn's progress up to this point was all a facade.

"Please, believe me, El," Wryn sounded desperate.

Elowen took a deep breath. "We can talk about this when I return from the balls."

"Okay," Wryn said. "You have fun, El. Go find that prince."

Elowen's cheeks heated. She wished she hadn't told Wryn about Prince Fletcher and her baked goods. The girl brought it up every chance she got.

"He's marrying Princess Estefania," Elowen said.

Her stomach roiled at the thought. It just wasn't right. She didn't know why, but it nibbled away at her brain, burrowing deeper into her subconscious.

"At least enjoy yourself," Wryn said. "Promise me you will."

A faint smile crossed Elowen's lips. The idea of the ball, as much as she hated to admit it, made her heart beat faster. When she normally might dread such a function, this one excited her.

"I think I will," Elowen said. "It should be fun."