Would they go back to the inn? And would Tristan look there for them when they didn’t show up at the cave?

When they finally found one another and Tristan discovered I was still at the castle, would he come for me?

He wouldn’t know where to look and the castle was so big.

Chrissy had always been so late showing up, but she’d been right on time to send me to the ball as Cinderella.

What if she’d already come and taken the rest of them home? What if there was no one left who could save me?

I thought of the Black Knight then; I’m not sure why.

Perhaps because it seemed like the sort of thing fairy-tale knights would do—rescue damsels who were tied up in castles. The idea left me with no hope though, just sourness. I couldn’t forget the way he’d tricked Tristan 393/431

and then demanded his death, the way he’d just looked at me and ridden by when I’d begged him for mercy.

If the others had already been taken back home, well, I was just going to have to work on saving myself.

I pulled on the ropes, twisting my hands. The ropes didn’t give, not even an inch. I scooted over to the hearth and tried to find a sharp edge that I could use to cut through the ropes.

That didn’t work either. So much for saving myself. In a low muffled voice, I tried to call out, “Chrissy!” Silence. Nothing.

“Chrissy!”

Still nothing. It occurred to me that in the story of Cinderella the fairy godmother never came back to check on Cinderella, not even when the messenger came and her stepmother locked her in her bedroom. Really, what was the point of having a fairy godmother if she was never around when you needed her?

I laid my head back against the wall, trying to breathe as normally as possible with a gag stuck in my mouth, and wondered what the king would do with me. Perhaps he just wanted to punish me for ruining his best chance to get rid of the Black Knight.

I shivered and tried not to think of that possibility.

The stroke of midnight came and went. I knew because my dress turned back into a towel. Which was just 394/431

one more reason that I didn’t want to face the king. But eventually I heard voices on the stairs. Angry voices, like gears grinding into overdrive. Moments later King Roderick and Prince Edmond strode through the door. Edmond stopped just inside the doorway. He folded his arms and stared at me grimly.

King Roderick marched over to me, still panting from the climb. He raised his sword to my face. For a moment I thought he would slash me with it. I held my breath and shut my eyes tightly, but he only cut off the gag, then bent down and moved it away from my mouth.

After he’d straightened up he regarded me with fierce eyes. “You have many things to explain.” He took a step back from me, resting his sword at his side. “You are an enchantress?”

“No.” My mouth was dry and the word fell from my lips like chalk.

“But you are full of enchantments or your fine gown and jewels wouldn’t have disappeared.” I felt my cheeks go hot. “That’s not an enchantment, just some fairy magic for the evening. Something I wished for long ago.” I looked at Edmond, trying to see any sign of kindness in his face, but all of his earlier admiration for me was gone. He watched me with narrowed eyes.

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King Roderick waved his hand in my direction as though erasing the subject. “I’m not concerned with fairy trinkets. Those mean nothing now. What I want is the identity of the Black Knight. You will tell us who he is.”

“I don’t know who he is,” I said.

“Pity. Then we’ll have to do things another way.” His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. “Because you will help us to identify him.”

“How could I—”

But he didn’t give me time to finish. He bent down and grabbed my chin. “The Black Knight said you couldn’t tell a lie in front of him or your tongue would burn out of your mouth. This is true?” I didn’t answer, just gulped. I was beginning to understand what he wanted.

Still grasping my chin, King Roderick said, “I will drag every nobleman, farm boy, and merchant from the entire kingdom into this room. One by one you will lie to them. And when your tongue burns out of your mouth, we will know who the Black Knight is.” He let go of my chin and turned to his son. “Tell the guards and the scribes what I want them to do. We’ll start with the castle household and move on from there.

How many guests do we have staying the night?”

“Enough to keep us busy till daybreak,” Edmond said.

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“Start with the guardhouse.”

They walked toward the door, making plans. They’d almost gone before I called out, “Edmond!” He paused at the doorway and looked back at me.

“Edmond, don’t do this.” I pulled at the rope around my wrists, even though I knew it was pointless. “Just hours ago you wanted to marry me.” His gaze ran over me with cold calculation. “And you’re just as beautiful now as you were in jewels and a gown. It’s almost enough to make me think that I could overlook your odd behavior at the ball.” He shook his head slowly. “But you kissed the Black Knight—my enemy. And that I could never forgive.” The door shut with a thud. I was left alone in the room, my heart beating as quickly as if I’d just run a mile.

I had to get away, but I’d already tried and I couldn’t.

No, I had to figure out who the Black Knight was so I didn’t have to lie to men until my tongue burned away.

There had to be clues. He said he was young and handsome. What else did I know about him?

He was a knight. Knights needed help getting in and out of their armor so he had to at least have one other person somewhere helping him . . . and he was a good kisser. That probably wasn’t helpful. What else?

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My mind was blank except for the panic that gnawed at the edges of my thoughts. I didn’t know enough.

Back at the inn, Chrissy said I was smart enough to figure it out—okay, actually she’d been talking about the stolen poison, and I hadn’t figured that out either.

The poison . . . For a moment it took center stage in my mind. Who had Simon stolen it for? Perhaps Queen Neferia— she had an apple to poison. But she could have bought it right from the wizard. Why would she have needed Simon to steal it and sell it to her?

No, it had to be for someone else, which led me back to the first suspect, Margaret. She was involved with both Simon and the Black Knight. But how and why?

The three of them circled in my mind. If she was in love with the Black Knight, why not just leave with him?

No one could stop her. Tristan had said he’d heard her tell a lady’s maid that she didn’t care if a man was lowborn as long as he was ambitious.

Certainly he was ambitious enough. He kept challenging Prince Edmond. But if he was trying to take over the kingdom, why didn’t he just challenge the king?

Wouldn’t that have been the thing to do? Even if he killed Prince Edmond, he wouldn’t be king. Roderick still would be.

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Did he have a grudge against Edmond? There had been that whole matter of the peasant rebellion he’d put down.

And how did Simon work into all of this? Did he just have a business arrangement with Margaret—selling her stolen potions—or was there something more to it? My mind jumped at the thought—could he be the Black Knight? He was young and handsome. He had access to magic and was stealing things from the wizard, so he might have been able to come up with the invincibility enchantment. Margaret could be in love with him. He was around the castle enough to form an attachment with her. It all fit . . . except that he was a goat now.

Oh, and I guess he wouldn’t have stood there and let the wizard give me the switching potion if he was the Black Knight.