The ball preparations left the entire estate in a tizzy. Zola and Tabitha had dragged Brennon to every shop in Nene to attempt to find the optimal outfit to show off their wealth. The countess approved their purchases at the end of the day, and Elowen knew her father would wince at the account ledgers later.

Elowen didn't bother joining in. Her stepsisters were overwhelming on regular shopping trips. When they went out looking for accessories for special occasions, they were like carnivores before a carcass. While they weren't monsters, Elowen really didn't want to be anywhere near the frenzy.

Cookie kicked her out of the kitchen the day of the ball, saying that there was no reason she couldn't be out preparing for the party. Since the rest of her family was out doing last-minute morning shopping, that left Elowen with more time to go upstairs and visit Wryn before they left in an hour.

Her quarantined stepsister sounded lively today behind the ever-closed door. Elowen pictured her as a bubbly girl, even though she'd never seen Wryn's face. She'd know her voice anywhere, though.

"I thought you were going to a ball," Wryn said. "Shouldn't you be out getting all gussied up?"

"Brennon said he took care of my dresses," Elowen said. "And I'm not much for frivols."

"You will be beautiful," Wryn said. "I wish I had something to wear to a ball."

"You know, sometimes Zola and Tabitha borrow my old dresses," Elowen said. "Maybe I can bring you one sometime. Maybe you could play dress up."

"That sounds fun," Wryn said. "I've always wanted to go to a ball and be a fancy lady. The Countess keeps saying that my health is getting worse, but I don't feel too bad. Just achy and a little burning in my head, but honestly, that's an improvement."

Elowen had never entirely been sure what ailed Wryn. Her symptoms seemed to change from day to day and she'd never gotten a straight answer from the Countess other than Wyrn's curse made her symptoms contagious.

"You have been more chatty lately," Elowen said. "And you've devoured half the library in the house. We're going to run out of books to send you before long."

"You could always travel to Sahar and bring me books from their libraries," Wryn said. "I've heard that they have some of the biggest collections of books in the known world."

Elowen had visited the massive library in Sahar once. It had books stacked to the ceiling and required dozens of specialized librarians to manage the facility. She and Brennon had spent the entire day exploring fun topics and choosing books to borrow until their next trip into Sahar. She's found a tasty recipe for scones in their archives that everyone always complimented.

"Maybe we can arrange a way for me to visit and see all the books," Wryn said.

"You've never wanted to leave before," Elowen said. "What brought this on?"

Wryn sighed. "Oh, I don't know. I guess Bash keeps telling me about some of the places he's been, and I've had a little wanderlust."

There it was again. Elowen's worry skyrocketed as Wryn mentioned Bash again. She didn't know if Wryn was hallucinating or what, because there was no one named Bash.

"Can you tell me more about Bash?" She asked her stepsister.

Wryn slumped against the door. "I told you before. He's the most magnificent little frog. He talks about the most wonderful things, and he has marvelous plans about taking me to his castle and introducing me to his family."

Elowen's frown deepened. "But he's a frog."

"Sometimes," Wryn said. "But that's not the point. He's kind and wonderful, and he's all I could ever want, El."

It just didn't make any sense. She didn't want to assume that Wryn was crazy, but if she was talking to a frog that wasn't real... and that frog was talking back, Elowen had to be worried.

"Are you sure?" Elowen asked.

"Sure about what?" An icy voice came from behind Elowen.

She turned to see her stepmother standing in the hallway. She wore a high-collared sapphire-colored dress, and her hair was curled in Nene's latest fashion and pulled back in ribbons. Her perfectly powdered face was scowled.

"Sure about what, Elowen?" The countess repeated.

Elowen's stomach dropped. She knew the Countess didn't like her to bother Wryn. She turned to face the Countess, and she looked at the forming fury on her face. Elowen slowly tried to come up with an excuse, but the countess drummed her fingers on the door and tapped her foot impatiently.

"I—" Elowen couldn't find an answer.

"What are you doing up here?" The countess demanded.

"Is that my mother?" Wryn asked.

"You're supposed to be in bed, Wryn," the countess said, and then she whirled on Elowen. "And you. I've told you not to waste my daughter's time and disturb her rest."

The countess tapped her fingers on her hip. Elowen could practically see the fire in her eyes. There was no way around this without serious damage.

"Wryn, I want you to go back to sleep," the countess said. "Just because the rest of the family is going away isn't any excuse to derail your healing progress."

"Yes, mother," Wryn said.

"Elowen, I need you to apologize to Wryn," the countess said. "You've interrupted vital work. She needs essential rest."

Elowen twisted her mouth into a smile so as not to disappoint her stepmother. "I apologize."

Sometimes, she wondered if the countess wasn't a bit too harsh. After all, she kept Wryn under literal lock and key, and she never compromised when she wanted something. She was a shrewd woman, but at least she could manage her responsibilities as the countess of Nene.

"Now get downstairs and finish preparing to leave for Cyra," the countess said. "I know I never force you to attend parties, but your father is rather insisting you be presentable at this ball tonight."

Elowen knew better than to argue with her stepmother. She said her goodbyes to Wryn and went back downstairs. Tabitha and Zola were back and ordering the servants about how to pack their things in the carriage. Brennon stood off to the side in a deep conversation with Zaxten de Bine of Sahar.

"There you are," Zola threw back her strawberry blonde hair. "Elowen, everyone's been waiting for you all morning. We're almost ready to leave."

"Give her a break," Tabitha said. "And we aren't ready to leave yet. It'll take more time to get everything loaded. Especially if you don't help Zola."

Zola snorted at her sister. The two looked nothing alike. Tabitha had dark brown hair that cascaded down her back in curls and a golden tan that seemed effortless while Zola had stick straight pale hair and an ivory complexion that rivaled a Cyrans.

Their mother had ebony hair and her darker tan told of her birth in Sahar. Elowen had always thought it a little strange that neither of her daughters resembled her in the slightest. When she asked about it long ago, the countess said that Tabitha was the spitting image of her great-aunt and Zola resembled her father, the countess's long-dead husband, who died in a boating accident when the girls were young.

The two girls turned back to their packing. It looked like they were taking the entire house with them. She wondered if the carriage would even drive if it got any heavier.

"Elowen," Brennon said. "Can I have a word with you?"

She frowned at her brother. He'd broken off from his conversation with the Diwan's son and was staring at her with worry. Zaxten hopped on a horse and took off down the road in the direction of the exit of the city. Brennon held a letter and, as she walked over to him, he seemed to clutch it tighter in his hand.

"What's wrong?" She asked as she approached. "You look like you're about to throttle that paper."

He looked down and loosened his grip. "I'm sorry, El. This is just so strange."

"Strange?" Elowen asked.

"Yes," Brennon said. "Zaxten brought a message from Cyra. He traveled to the court with Bastien, and the prince gave him a message. A message for a baker in our household."

"The prince?" Elowen felt her breath catch as her heart raced. "From Fletcher?"

"I don't know what's going on, but Zaxten said that this message was for a young lady with brown hair who works as a baker in our household," Brennon said. "And no one fits that description but you, El."

"Did you read it?" Elowen asked.

"No," Brennon said. "But whatever you're doing, be careful, El."

He gave her the letter. She could hardly believe that Fletcher had actually written to her. She untucked the paper and looked at the fancy writing. The swirling loops made her heart pound as she read the message.

Dear Lady,

I deeply regret not getting your name when we met. Your baking has been on my heart and chasing my tongue like a phantom ever since we parted. The recipes that you forwarded were much appreciated, but my cook cannot quite capture the delicacy of your masterful baking.

After talking with you at the Earl's home, I couldn't help but smile. You lifted something from my shoulders, and your cooking was some of the best I've ever had. You truly are something special.

I greatly hope that after this entire set of balls comes to an end, you might come to the castle and make your pastries for me. Do not take this as a royal command. It is simply a request.

Thank you for your kind words,

Prince Fletcher de Cyra

The words filled her soul like warm honey. She felt her cheeks flush, and she tucked the letter into her pocket so her brother wouldn't see it.

"What does it say, El?" Brennon asked.

"Nothing important," she said. "At least not now. Are you ready for our trip?"

Brennon's brow furrowed. "I don't like this business. The king of Cyra is making a grab for power. I think this betrothal is dangerous, and if Estefania and Fletcher marry, it may threaten Nene's independence."

"Nene has been independent for three hundred years," Elowen said. "They can't threaten us."

"That's where you're wrong, little sister," Brennon said. "For there are always those in power who want more."

"Are you two done?" Zola's voice pierced through their privacy.

Brennon whirled on her. "If you're interrupting this conversation, I assume you're all ready to leave?"

"Yes," Zola stiffened. "We're ready."

"Then get the earl and the countess," he said. "Then we can start the drive to Cyra. It shouldn't take more than a few hours."

Elowen watched the last of the items load into the back of the carriage as Zola went inside to find the others. It didn't take long. Once her father and the countess appeared, she took a seat beside Brennon in the carriage and she took a deep breath and prepared to head into the court of Cyra.

She wasn't sure if she was going to see Fletcher. It didn't matter if she did or not. He was betrothed, even if she thought that it was wrong. If she were smart, she'd stay far away from Crown Prince Fletcher de Cyra.