Morning brings bright sunlight and an ache ten times worse than the day before. I roll over in bed, clenching my eyes shut against the pain. It hurts to move, to breathe, to exist. For the millionth time, I regret picking a fight with William and swear that I'll get him back for this—when it is no longer excruciating just to swallow.

I know I need to get ready to serve Eero breakfast, like he's expecting me to, but considering how bad I feel, I don't know if I'll make it through the day.

As I lay there, the other maids start waking up. They giggle together in their beds and braid each other's hair, making friends in the orange morning light.

Funny how yesterday I felt so loved, and this morning, I feel like an outsider here.

Not that I need friends; Finn is enough for me.

With a grunt of pain, I throw off my blanket and push up out of bed. A few of the girls look at me with concern as I hiss painfully, dragging myself into the bathing room. I've hardly made it through the arch when someone shoots up out of their seat.

Britta.

"Ari! You're not supposed to be up!" she exclaims, strands of wet hair falling over her face. Her dress lies folded on the bench, and the only thing covering her nakedness is a thin towel.

"I have work to do," I whisper. I didn't mean to speak so quietly, but the words got tangled in the bruised tissue of my throat. "Eero's expecting me to bring him breakfast."

"Oh." She drops the towel and starts pulling on her uniform. One of the other girls groans and ducks out of the room, muttering something about Britta being naked again. "At least let me help you wash up, okay?"

"Why?" I ask. She's never talked to me this much before. It's not like I'm anyone's favorite around the palace. If I wanted to be, I'd need to learn the subtle art of gossiping and the not-so-subtle art of fawning over attractive guards.

"Because I want to?" Britta replies, hefting up a bucket of water. "And because Madam Amaia will skin me alive if she finds out I didn't offer." She laughs as she dumps out the water into the tub. "She's so scary sometimes."

I nod, laughing nervously. "Well, thanks, but I think I can handle it."

Entangling anyone else in this net of lies would just be cruel. I have a job to do, and I just need to get it done.

Britta nods and pulls her hair up into a neat bun. Little white-blonde wisps frame her face, untamable despite how often she runs her hands over it.

"Whatever you say," she says, putting the bucket back down. "I'll just go tell the matron you're up, then. Don't hurt yourself, okay?"

"Okay." My voice is fragile, weak, surprised.

With a bright smile, the young girl bounces out of the room, her gray dress tangling around her legs as she goes. My heart warms—just a little.

I stamp it down.

I can't make friends. I can't involve anyone else.

So, I don't call her back into the room. Or talk to any of the other girls that come in to wash off and get dressed. I take my bath, pull my uniform on, and stare at myself in the full-length mirror.

There are gray bags under my eyes, scratches up my arms from the run through the garden, and two gigantic bruises on my throat. An outline of William's hands can be seen in purple-trimmed red—eight long, thin fingers and two short thumbs. The color isn't as bright as I expected but instead is mottled and dark, scary.

No wonder everyone is whispering about me. It looks like I survived a run-in with the gallows.

As I turn to leave the bathroom, Amaia appears in the archway.

"Ah. There you are, skatter," she says with a warm smile. "How do you feel?"

"Good," I lie. Heat rushes into my cheeks as the crackle of my voice gives me away. "I'm okay. Really. Just sore."

Amaia laughs. "Just like a woman to lie about how badly she's hurting." She steps forward and pushes my chin up. Her hand on my throat is cold, and the goosebumps that explode across my skin make me wince. "That looks horrible. William really didn't take it easy on you, did he?"

I shake my head. I'm not really that mad at William. Just disappointed in myself for not being strong enough. Next time I will be; I'll make sure of that.

She drops my chin and folds her hands over her chest. "Well, you can't go back to work today. Not looking like this."

"But Eero—"

"Can wait," she says, cutting off my protest. "I've already talked to him, and he knows it's best not to argue with me."

"Are you sure?" I'd really hoped to start unraveling this confusing net today. The sooner I figure out who's really trying to start a war, the quicker I get out of here and go home. That's all I really want.

"Positive," Amaia says. She takes my arm and pulls me out of the bathing room. "You and I are going to run errands for Josef today. See the city. Get some fresh air."

I can't help but smile. "That actually sounds fun."

Amaia clutches her chest in mock pain as we leave the maid's quarters. "What did you think it would be—painful? It's me, skatter. A day with me is much better than a day spent coddling Prince Eero. Trust me, you'll have plenty of fun."

And surprisingly, I do.

First, we visit the marketplace—a bustling hub of life and energies. The perimeter is outlined with shops and their keepers, each with their wares arranged neatly in boxes or hung from lines. They sell everything from produce and clothes to jewelry and meat. There are even live animals piled in tottering wooden crates. I try to look at it all, but Amaia's a woman on a mission. She refuses to slow down.

We buy a basket of fresh produce from an overweight merchant with bright red cheeks and then a roll of gray fabric from a woman with a dozen golden rings in her ears. Amaia and I walk a short ways, and she haggles with a scraggly looking teenager about the price of eggs. Our fearsome matron throws her hands in the air; he stomps and screams.

And no one else around them even blinks.

Is this normal?

If so, I need to come back here more often!

When they finally settle on a price, I ease up to her and whisper, "Hey, Amaia?" She grunts in acknowledgement, so I ask, "Is it okay if I wander off for a minute? I want to do some shopping."

"Sure," she replies, not even looking at me. "Just stay in the market, okay? Don't want you getting lost."

"Yes, ma'am." I pat her shoulder and slip into the swelling crowd.

What I need more than anything is a basket of sweet fruit and some of those taffies that Josef had. While I have no idea where he bought them, I do remember exactly what they smelled like.

But the marketplace is full of scents. Smoked meat and burning coals. Animal feces and tangy copper blood. Artificial perfumes and tassels of muted herbs. Body sweat and tropical fruits.

How am I supposed to find anything?

Finally, after shoving through Anjordians for a few minutes, I find a clear spot along the edge and climb atop a crate. The shopkeeper huffs at me but is drawn away by someone inquiring about her metalware.

I squint over the crowd, studying each different stall.

After gazing over na open, sunny stall where a baker waves his long loaves at passersby and a darker stall where a dark-skinned woman with long skirts and rainbow thread woven in her braids tries to lure people into her shadows, promising to tell them their fortunes, my heart skips a beat. One of the vendors... How could I not recognize the downy curls and dark skin? How did I miss it when we came in? Hopping off the crate, I shove through the crowds again, sticking to the perimeter this time.

"Sam!"

He looks up, confused at first to hear his name. Then, his face brightens. "Ari! What a surprise!" His eyes drop down to my neck. "What happened to you?"

I wave a hand at him. "Unimportant. What are you doing here?"

"Sellin' Rosie's strawberries," he says, holding up a little woven basket full of bright red fruits. My mouth waters instantly. "Want some?"

"Yes, please," I respond.

He laughs and ushers me back behind his counter. There's a small stool there, and he shoves me down onto it, planting the basket in my hands. "Eat." Before I can argue, he hurries off to deal with someone else at the counter.

I smile at the basket in my lap, imagining little Rosie with her dark hair in little pigtails as she picks the strawberries. They're shiny and ripe, flecks of dirt still clinging to them. With careful fingers, I pluck the biggest off the top of the stack and take a huge bite.

The tartness hits first. It's enough to make my entire face scrunch up. My sore throat screams in protest, but I chew through the bitterness because after the initial shock comes the heavenly sweetness. It melts in my mouth, sinks deep into my stomach, and makes me tilt my head back in happiness.

This. This is what Hygge needs.

I've eaten strawberries before but always smuggled by the pirates or magicked by the merchants. The fruit is never fresh, never mouth-wateringly delicious. This is so different. So perfectly different.

I finish chewing that bite and toss the rest of the berry into my mouth, making sure to pick off the greenery at the top. While Sam works, I finish off the entire basket and lick my fingers happily. Now all I need is taffy, and I'll be set for life.

"'Kay," Sam says as he returns. "Were they good?"

"Absolutely divine," I say, grinning at him.

"Good. I'll have to tell Rosie you liked 'em. She asked me the other day if I had seen you in the city, and I told her you were probably busy. Ain't got time to visit a marketplace." He motions to my clothes as he pulls up another stool. "I see you got a job at the palace. So everything worked out for ya?"

I take a deep breath and recount the events of the past week, leaving out the strangulation incident. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, and that part doesn't even really affect the bigger picture. Sam listens as I talk, but his eyes dart down to my neck more than once. His worry starts to show in his deep frown.

"You seem to be..." He fights for the right word. "Content, I guess. You look content."

I sigh. "Everything's fine."

He smirks and sits back against the wall. "I ain't in the business of asking questions ladies don't wanna answer, so I won't ask what's wrong. As long as you're alright and the prince is treatin' you well, I won't go and complain to him."

I roll my eyes playfully. Together, Sam and Josef would give Eero a run for his money.

But I don't need him storming the castle to protect me. I just need the comfort that his presence brings, the warmth and familiarity that the Divine feels when he's around. Already, I feel closer to Her than I have in days. Sam just has that effect on me.

"Oh, hey!" He jumps off the stool. "I brought you somethin'! Well, I brought it hoping I might catch you sometime soon. If I didn't, I was going to send it to the palace somehow, but the Divine must be lookin' out for me."

He ducks down and roots through a bag at the foot of my stool. From within, he pulls a small black box. The lid is tied closed with a piece of green ribbon identical to the one in my hair. Rosie's thread.

"After I told Rosie about the mysterious girl I found on the beach," he says as he hands me the tiny box, "about how her soul reached out to me, touched me and spoke to me and how I could see the Divine in her eyes, how the Goddess herself led me to help her, we were inspired." The corners of his mouth lift.

"So, Rosie and I made those for you. Felt like they might remind you that you're not alone in this foreign city. Not really, anyway. It's gotta be pretty lonely."

I stare at him for a moment, awed by the truth in his assumption. How can one person be so right? All the time. If there was ever a Divine-blessed human, Sam is it.

Without saying anything, lest I ruin the moment, I untie the green ribbon and lift the top off the box. Inside is a small velvet bag, kind of like the coin purse Zula sent with me. I uncinch the drawstring and dump out a handful of tiny...

"Daisies?" I whisper, holding them in my palm.

Each little yellow center is circled by long, curling white petals. Their glass structure catches the sunlight and makes them glitter like they're luminescent. On the back, there's a twisting green stem. It's like a corkscrew, tight and fragile.

"Glass daisies," Sam says softly, plucking one from my hand. "It was Rosie's idea. I told her how you put the daisies I gave you in your hair when we first met, and she said it was sad that the flowers would wilt. So, she wanted to give you something a little more permanent. These won't die, I guess."

He rises from his seat and crosses the stall. Then, lifting my braid from my shoulder, Sam twists the little glass flower between the plaits.

If my throat wasn't tight already, it is now. Tears well up at the top of my chest, threatening to explode as he twists the rest of the flowers into my hair. As I watch, little gold tendrils of magic creep from my scalp and nestle among the petals.

Oh, Divine.

How am I going to hurt these people?

How am I going to kill their future king?

How am I going to disappoint them?

Before I can stop it, the tears spring forward, racing down my cheeks, unstoppable. Sam looks up at me in shock.

"Oh, hey, don't cry," he says gently, wrapping me in a hug. "It's okay. Everything will be okay."

But it won't, and I don't know how to tell him how scared I am of all this falling apart in my hands, how fragile I feel, how alone I am.

"Thank you," I say tearfully, wiping my face with the backs of my hands. "You have no idea what this means to me."

He smiles, flashing a mouthful of shining white teeth. "Not as much as you mean to us. Rosie's convinced you're a princess. Of what, I'm not sure, but you're her favorite fairytale."

My heart breaks a little more. I have to get out of here before I collapse into a pile of mush. I'm a princess, sure, but this is no fairytale. This is a nightmare.

"I should—I need to go," I mumble. "My matron will be looking for me. Here." I dig around in my bag for a second and pull out the little money pouch. "For the strawberries. And for Rosie."

Sam starts to reject the money, but I shove it in his hand.

"For everything, Sam," I whisper.

He nods, closing his fist around the money. "You remember where to find me, right?"

"Half a day's walk from Lykke's gate, where the big red windmill and Rosie's strawberries are."

He grins. "You got it. Take it easy, okay? And... be careful."

"I will, Sam." I nod and sniffle back a mouthful of tears. "Thank you."

And before I can change my mind and leave Lykke with him, I duck back into the crowd to find Amaia.