But . . . he hadn’t had a choice about that. It was the wizard who sold me the switching potion, and Simon hadn’t looked happy about it at the time. If he was the Black Knight—no, he wouldn’t have cared if I’d taken switching potion if he’d been the Black Knight because he would have known not to kiss me—but if Simon was in league with the Black Knight, then he would have been worried about me taking away the knight’s enchantment.

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This seemed to fit, to make sense. After all, the Black Knight had truth potion on him when I’d met him. He had to be working with some wizard. And Simon had sold me a vial of something and told me to drink it when I saw the Black Knight. Poison would have taken care of any threat I’d posed.

The knowledge spun around in my mind, fear mixing with excitement. I’d been right the first time. The poison had been for me.

So they were both in league with the Black Knight—

Margaret and Simon—but who was he?

The door swung open. A guard came inside, followed by King Roderick. My time was up, and I still hadn’t figured out who the Black Knight was.

The king had his sword drawn; the guard didn’t have one. He stood at attention, looking stoic and uncomfortable at the same time. King Roderick motioned to me.

“Well, be quick about it. Tell a lie and let’s see what happens.”

“I’m not going to sit here and lie until my tongue burns away.”

The king stepped toward me, examining my face. “I assume you meant that as a lie, because you are going to sit here and do just that.”

I fingered the fireplace stones beneath my fingers, wishing I could break the rope. “You’re a tyrant.” 400/431

“I’ll take that as a lie and not an insult, but why don’t you try one more time just to make sure that Henry here is not the man I’m looking for.” He lifted his sword, held its tip against my cheek, and moved it down to my neck slowly, precisely. He didn’t mean to draw blood, not yet.

When he spoke, his voice was deceptively soft. “You will do as I say, or you’ll lose much more than your tongue tonight.”

“Ask your daughter who the Black Knight is. She knows.”

The blade pressed harder against my neck. “More treason. You will not speak ill of my daughter. She knows her place. I suggest you learn the same.” It was then that I remembered something about fairy tales. Hansel and Gretel, the smallest billy goat gruff, Puss in Boots— they never conquered through strength.

It was always through outwitting those who were stronger than they were.

I drew in a careful breath. “I have a better way to help you find the Black Knight, but you’ll have to untie me first and give me some clothes.” The king shook his head. “I think that’s too subtle of a lie. Why don’t you say something along the lines of, ‘I am a spotted bird.’ Try that one, and let’s see what happens.”

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I leaned forward, trying to show him I meant it. “I can find him for you.”

“You said you didn’t know who he was.”

“I don’t, but I still can identify him. He kissed me, after all. You don’t think he did that without taking off his helmet, do you?”

The king let his sword fall back at his side and took a step away from me, considering. “How will you find him?”

“Bring all of the nobles, any man who is rich at all, to the ballroom.”

“And how do you know he is a rich man?”

“When he kissed me he didn’t smell bad. He’s wealthy enough to bathe regularly.”

The king nodded, pleased with this information. He walked to the guard, sniffing. “Well, Henry, it looks like you’re innocent by that account. Go tell all the guards to assemble our fine guests in the ballroom.” He turned back to me. “I’ll have clothes sent to you, but I warn you, if you try to escape, if you cross me in any way, I’ll cut off your fingers and use them as chess pieces. Do you understand?”

I nodded and shivered again. “Will you let me go once I’ve found him for you?”

He smiled at me. “Of course.” But even though I didn’t have any truth potion, I knew he was lying.

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I had to find a way to escape.

Chapter 27

King Roderick sent me a pale linen dress that probably belonged to Margaret. He also sent in three husky washerwomen to cut my ropes and make sure I didn’t escape while I dressed.

I changed quickly, wishing I had shoes. Tristan had my other slipper. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to leave the remaining glass slipper on the floor where it lay. I put it in my pocket. After that I walked to the ballroom, flanked on both sides by guards.

With every step I took I tried to think of ways to escape. It was too dangerous here in the heart of the castle. I’d never be able to make it outside without the guards cutting me down, but once inside the ballroom there was that terrace—the one with the balcony. If I could climb down the vines, perhaps I could lose them in the dark.

Of course, getting over the castle walls would present another problem and I didn’t really have an answer for that.

A guard opened the door and I saw dozens of men standing in a line against the wall. They still wore their finery—silk and velvet tunics, splashes of color against 404/431

the gray stone walls, but they no longer seemed festive.

Their swords had been taken from them and they stared at me silently. King Roderick paced back and forth in front of the men with his sword drawn. Prince Edmond and Prince Hugh were also there, swords hanging at their sides, as though they would contend with anyone who crossed the king. While they spoke to each other, Hugh glanced over at me with a cold stare. I supposed that Edmond had told him what I’d done.

Princess Margaret stood near them, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Two crimson patches of color flushed on her cheeks when she saw me. I wondered if the king had told her of my accusations.

The king saw me and motioned me over. “Here they are. Take a look. Which one is he?”

“I need to ask each of them a question,” I said. “It will take a few minutes.” Instead of giving the king time to protest, I walked to the first man at the end of the line.

He didn’t have the height to be the Black Knight, but still I said, “Answer me yes or no. Are you the Black Knight?”

His voice was clipped with indignation. “No.” I moved to the next man. “Are you the Black Knight?” He shook his head. “Of course not.” 405/431

The king came up behind me, hands on his hips. “This is how you’re going to identify him? You expect one of them to tell you yes?”

“One of them will tell me the truth. Be patient.” The king turned away from me, cursing, but he didn’t stop me. I went down the line asking the same question.

Each time the answer was no.

I listened to them, but half my mind was still trying to piece together what I knew. If Princess Margaret was in love with the Black Knight, they could have run off together long before now . . . so maybe it was Simon she loved. Back when I first met her, she had been waiting for someone who hadn’t come, and Simon wouldn’t have been able to meet her after he was turned into a goat.

Margaret wouldn’t have been able to marry Simon without her father’s permission, so perhaps the two of them had devised a plan with the Black Knight. Maybe Simon was supposed to defeat the Black Knight to win Margaret’s hand. But why hadn’t they done it before now? Why wait? There was still something about the Black Knight I was missing.

I came to the last man in the line. “Are you the Black Knight?”

He shook his head. “I’m certainly not.” The king strode up to my side, his lips set in an angry grimace. “And what was the point of that exercise 406/431

besides wasting my time? You don’t know whom he is at all, do you?”