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“Princess?” I hiss in question. “You’ve known all along?” I force the words out.

“Known? No. Suspected, yes,” he confesses, refusing to look back at me.

As we near the bottom, I realize she is still introducing me. The queen has much more to say.

Too much, I’m afraid.

“She is the last known remaining born from Fairest Blood in all the kingdoms, and the rare prophesied blood that flows through her delicate veins is the key to our mutual quest for eternal enchantment. What started twenty-one years ago with the Enchanted Rebellion will soon be finished. This I promise.”

Cheers erupt all around us. Demands for my death—cries for my blood—ring out. The sound of people celebrating my demise is deafening.

I find it impossible to keep moving. Riven lifts me into his chest and covers me in his embrace at the foot of the stairs as people move in closer and closer, grabbing at me, reaching for me, stepping on my cape.

The noise. The people. The shock.

It’s suffocating.

“Why do they hate me? They don’t even know me.” Tears burn the back of my eyes as I struggle to hold my composure. “And how am I the key? I don’t understand.”

“Head up, Princess. They can smell fear. And they feed off it,” he warns. “Trust me.”

Well, if that’s the case, I just gave them an entire smorgasbord because I can’t turn off my feelings.

But fear, that’s another story altogether.

As if on cue, the queen’s voice commands, “Silence!” and everyone obeys.

I follow the voice to the top of the stairs, and notice that she’s now standing where I just came from.

High above her subjects and guests, with Birdy at her side wearing a shocked expression. A striking contrast. Birdy, so elegant and innocent in her demure pastel. The Queen, wearing an elaborate deep purple beaded gown cut low, the arms covered in dark iridescent feathers, her imposing crown on top of her poised head, surrounded by intricate braids so silver they could be metal.

I feel Riven tense next to me.

“Move back and give them some space,” she instructs the crowd.

“For the huntsman responsible for finding our beloved lost princess,” she mocks, “has earned himself not only a permanent place at my side but the first dance of the evening.”

The music starts before I have the chance to ask him what’s happening or even process what I just heard.

“You look stunning, by the way.” His compliment catches me off guard as his hand moves to my lower back, trapped beneath the fabric of my tight bodice and the flowing red cape that drags behind us. He takes my hand in his and leads me around the polished graphite floor in a dramatic waltz that I somehow know the steps to… but how?

With each spin around the room, the melancholy music rises and falls, and I find myself dizzy.

Not just from the dancing but in how much has transpired in the past couple of days.

I can’t let my feelings cloud my judgment. Especially where Riven is concerned.

I need to find out if her plan is metaphorical or if she, in fact, intends to take my blood. To carry out some bizarre mystical plan. The guest list should have been my first clue. The evil queen is my evil stepmother, and the unbelievable story that is my life keeps unfolding.

Ravens, snakes, and beasts, oh my!

Feeling hundreds of evil eyes on me is particularly unnerving.

I need to talk to Riven. I need him to be honest about why I’m here. He pushes and pulls me, following the steps of a Winter Haven traditional dance.

How do I know that?

“We need to talk,” I whisper to him.