But he looks just as startled to see me. “Jules,” he says, in lieu of good morning. Then he regains his composure. “Ina mentioned you were accompanying her on an errand. Where are you off to?”

Before I can answer, Bea emerges from the dormitories, with her light, slippered step. She sees Roan first, and a smile spreads over her face—then she sees me, and her eyes widen, the smile slipping. By the time I think to say good morning, she has changed course and disappeared down the corridor, like she suddenly remembered something important.

Roan looks after her for a moment before turning back to me. In the harsh, angled light, his dimples become dark spots on his face. I realize that he’s waiting for an answer.

“Just a ride,” I say lightly. Even Roan doesn’t know where Ina and I are going, apparently. Already, I’m sweating from the warmth of the castle, the weight of the dress, and Roan’s gaze. “I know the grounds well, after all.”

This satisfies him. He breathes in, then lets the breath out, running one hand through his already messy hair. “Of course. I worry that she’s getting restless. Thank you for keeping her company, Jules,” he says seriously. “Take care of her, and yourself.”

Then, Roan waves, and he’s off in the same direction as Bea, covering the corridor quickly with his long stride. Without thinking, I start to reach out a hand toward him, like a plant that always reaches to the sun. The word wait melts on my tongue.

When he’s gone, I walk in the direction of the stables, wondering why, why, why, Ina Gold would not have told her fiancé what this errand was. With every step down the corridor, I feel my body become a toy, a puppet; the pull of the Gerlings, Ina, the Queen, and their secrets weave through me, pierce my skin, pull at my limbs. All I wanted was to learn the truth about Papa—how did it land me in the middle of this chessboard?

It’s a relief to get outside, into the fresh cold air of the courtyard. Snow has fallen during the night, covering the great lawn with a thin, sparkling dusting of white. I wish I could walk, observe the palisades and turrets of Everless from a distance, look out over the lake. But the sun is a hand’s width above the horizon by now, so instead I hurry to the stables to meet Ina.

She’s already there, also dressed in a traveling dress and gray cloak, a leather bag slung over her shoulder. Catching sight of my bare hands, she takes a pair of gloves out of her cloak and offers them to me. I’m immediately surprised, not just by her generosity but also by the fact that she’s dressed like me—like a high-ranking servant.

She is standing by two horses, one dun and one chestnut. The dun one is already saddled; behind her, Tam is strapping the gear to the chestnut’s back. My stomach drops like a stone into water, and I feel sweat prickling at my palms. I had expected we would be taking a cart or carriage.

While I can ride—in Crofton, I occasionally found odd jobs carrying messages or making deliveries on horseback—I’m not a natural at it, and the Gerlings’ huge, well-fed, spirited horses make me nervous. After a moment I realize I’ve stopped and am staring rudely, so I hurriedly lower my head and curtsy to Ina.

“No need for that,” she says. Despite her plain dress, she looks as beautiful and regal as always. But something about her is hesitant, almost somber. Her short hair is stuck under a plain wool cap, the ends a dark, blunt fringe on her ears. “It’s good to have you here, Jules.”

Cautiously, I approach the horses, greeting Tam with a nod and a smile. He’s looking curiously between me and Lady Gold, asking me with his eyes why I’m standing here, next to the Queen’s daughter. I shake my head slightly, mouthing: I’ll explain later. I see his mouth twist, how stiffly he bows. I add him to the list of people—Lora and Bea and Hinton already—to whom I owe explanations for my rudeness.

“Which horse would you like?” Ina asks politely, as if she’s asking if I prefer sugar or milk in my tea. “This is Honey”—she pets the dun horse’s nose—“and this is Mava.”

“Honey,” I say, so quickly that Ina laughs. “I’ll have Honey.”

“All right, then.” She presses the dun horse’s reins into my hands, and I blink away nervousness as the creature turns to regard me, its big eyes seeming to measure me up. I remember what Papa told me about horses: don’t act nervous, even if you are.

The same thing could be said of royalty.

Somehow, I expect that there will be more preparation, but Ina is ready, and so Tam comes around to my side to boost me up into Honey’s saddle. I clamber awkwardly into place, gripping the saddle horn nervously.

Ina sees my tense shoulders, and surprise flashes across her face, followed by embarrassment. I can tell it hasn’t occurred to her that I might not know how to ride, and now she’s ashamed, wondering how to backpedal. Everything Ina Gold feels is transparent, clear as day on her beautiful face. That she never has to hide her emotions is a luxury—but I can’t resent her for it. She’s known me for all of two days, but she truly cares whether I’m comfortable.

“I’m fine riding,” I say before she can speak—wanting to get out of Everless, to breathe free, if only for a day. I straighten in the saddle and move my hands to the reins, trying not to think about how far off the ground I am. Ina swings up onto her horse all on her own—she’s as graceful as a dancer—and pulls her hood up over her head. She leads us out of the stables. Luckily for me, Honey follows Mava out of instinct.

“I want to go to an orphanage between Crofton and Laista,” Ina says quietly, once we’re out of earshot of Tam. “About an hour’s ride away. I haven’t exactly told anyone about this little outing. Not Roan or Caro or the Queen. They all think I’m going to be hunted and slaughtered like spotted hare,” she says, so cavalierly that I have to laugh. “So I would be grateful if—you know . . .”

Ina turns to me, biting her lip. Lady Ina Gold doesn’t seem the sort to keep secrets, much less from her betrothed or the Queen, her surrogate mother, but then, I remember, neither do I.

I nod, and smile.

Ina catches sight of something over my shoulder and closes her mouth. She motions at me to fall in behind her as we come up on the south gate, a smaller set of doors than the great gates she and the Queen came through a week ago, this one meant for servants and deliveries. It’s guarded by two freezing-looking guards, who watch us coming without interest but snap to attention when they see Ina’s face. They both bow deeply.

“Lady Gold,” one stammers, after they straighten up. “Ought—ought you be going outside the walls without an escort?”