Bianca was weeping over Mother’s coffin when n out woman the spitting image of Mother walked into the royal crypt. She held aloft a lantern, illuminating features that made all the blood drain from Bianca’s face.

Bianca’s heart sped up, and she swallowed down a painful lump. She had heard of ghosts. These were tortured souls whose last moments of life were so agonized, they haunted the living and never got to rest. Mother’s prolonged and painful death would certainly qualify her for such an outcome. She blinked back tears. Mother’s demise should have brought her peace, not eternal torment.

Father sucked in a loud, shocked breath. “Floret?”

The woman shook her head. “I am Peridot, Queen Floret’s long lost sister.”

Bianca wiped her eyes, her brow furrowed. Mother had never mentioned having any sisters other than Aunt Blossom and Aunt Petal. This woman was obviously an identical twin. She choked out the words, “Why are we only finding out about you now?”

Peridot dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “My story is a sad one. For the past twenty-five years, I have been locked in a tower. You see, our parents wanted to betroth me to you, but at the last minute, they decided on Floret.”

Father nodded. “You poor dear. Please, come upstairs for the gathering.”

The woman took Father’s arm, and together, they walked out of the crypt. Bianca stared after them, her head tilted to the side. Nothing made sense. Aunt Petal would have mentioned another sister. She followed them through the stone stairway leading out of the crypt, up to the ground floor of the palace.

Peridot pulled a veil down from her headdress. Her footsteps echoed like the clomping of an elephant. Bianca stared at the woman’s elephant leather boots. Their soles were no thicker than usual, and she furrowed her brow and glanced away. If Father didn’t notice anything strange about Peridot, Bianca was probably worrying about nothing.

“Where did you say this tower was, my dear?” asked Father.

“Vern, Your Majesty.”

“I expect the cold temperatures here are a shock.” Father placed his arm around the woman’s waist. “Allow me to warm you up.”

Peridot lowered her head and glanced up at Father through her lashes. “You are very kind, Sire.”

“Call me January.” He smiled, pulling her closer to his body.

The first flames of irritation flickered in Bianca’s chest like a candle. Mother had been dead for less than a day, and Father no longer seemed so bothered, now that a lookalike had appeared. She glared at the windows. And it wasn’t even that cold! .

Budding, the part of Prevern they lived in, was rainy today. The weather generally depended on which way the wind blew. A north wind blew salt water to the city, and an east, west or south wind blew snow from the Schneeberg Mountains. From the palace’s elevated, hilltop position, the windows gave a panoramic view of the Kingdom. Theirs was the only country in the United Kingdom of Seven that was bordered on three sides by mountains. Father said it gave them autonomy from the busybodies in Metropole, their capital. However, Bianca thought having few routes in and out of the country was a bad thing.

They reached the State Room, and a solemn Captain Verglas opened the door. Dry heat, and the scent of burning pine from the huge fire in the middle of the grand room made her nostrils twitch. Mourners stood by the walls, eating hors d’oeuvres and drinking wine.

“King January,” said a long-bearded man, clad in black velvet. “My condolences.”

“Thank you, Ambassador Whittaker. We are most grateful for your well-wishes.”

“Floret was such a devoted Queen. She will be remembered for centuries as the greatest consort to grace the Kingdom.”

Father gave the Ambassador a tight smile and walked to his throne, still holding Peridot around the waist. A few middle-aged women glowered at Peridot, pushing their daughters forward. Father did not notice them, as his gaze was fixed on the strange woman with Mother’s face.

Bianca followed. “Father—”

“Darling, would you give me a moment, please?” He made a shooing motion with his hands. “I would very much like to speak with your aunt.”

Bianca glanced around to find Aunt Petal, but she realized Father meant Peridot. Her heart sank, and she bowed her head. “All right.”

She trudged to the far side of the room, her chest so tight it could crumple into itself. Her throat, which felt scratchy from crying all night long, closed up. She headed for a row of chairs which would give her a good view of the throne.

A hand landed on her shoulder. “Bianca,” said Grost, her betrothed. He stood as tall and strong as a statue, concern radiating from his aquamarine eyes. The light streaming in from the windows made his long, blond hair shine like moonstone. “I came as soon as I heard.”

Her bottom lip wobbled. Grost was her best friend, betrothed, and the future King of Hibern, the winter lands west of the Schneeberg mountains. “Thank you for coming.”

“Let’s go to the orangery. You won’t be missed.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Who is that sitting with His Majesty?”

“She’s claiming to be my long-lost aunt.” Bianca turned to find Peridot perched beside Father on Mother’s throne. An angry fire reignited in her chest, making her grit her teeth.

Grost squinted. “I can’t see her features much under that veil, but she seems to have a close resemblance to your mother.”

“Supposedly, she’s a long-lost, secret twin no one has heard of. Come on, let’s go.”

***

They sat on iron benches among the potted citrus and pomegranate trees, enjoying their sweet scent. Grost held Bianca’s hand and brought it to his lips.

“Did the doctor ever find out the nature of Her Majesty’s illness?”

“Dr. Stoneheart called it a non-specific wasting disorder.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“Me neither,” she replied. “And I couldn’t find anything about it in the library.”

“I hope it’s not contagious,” he said.

Bianca tilted her head to the side with a one-shouldered shrug. If Grost didn’t find anything suspicious about the mysterious illness, she wouldn’t worry about it.

He stretched. “Father’s been keeping me busy.” Grost explained that he’d been busy organizing troops to patrol the coast. According to him, disappearances were on the increase. Young women would often go missing in their beds. “Townsfolk are blaming trolls.”

Bianca placed her hand over her mouth. “That’s ridiculous. No creatures can get past the Anti-Magic Army.”

Grost nodded and gave her a crooked grin. Everyone knew the United Kingdom of Seven’s Anti-Magic Army was the finest in the Known World. It only employed the most talented and accomplished heroes, such as dragon slayers, giant killers and witch hunters. Even fairies kept away from the Seven Kingdoms for fear of the army’s might. “Superstitions run high in the north Kingdoms, I’m afraid. The constables should take charge, as the culprits are likely robbers and ravishers.” He stood. “It’s time for me to leave, my darling. I’ll try to return as soon as I can.”

***

On her way back to the State Rooms, she bumped into Aunt Petal. Tears swam in the older woman’s eyes. “How are you feeling, flower?”

Bianca pressed her lips together, trying to maintain decorum. Then she spoke. “I miss her.” She lowered her eyes and said in a quieter voice. “Is it wrong to wish she was still here?”

Aunt Petal wrapped her arms around her, engulfing her in the same scent of jasmine mother use to wear. “It’s perfectly normal.” She sniffled. “I miss her too.”

“Did you have any other sisters?”

“I don’t understand.” She squeezed tighter.

Bianca stepped back and stared into Aunt Petal’s hazel eyes. “I mean apart from Aunt Blossom. Were there any more?”

Her brow furrowed. “No. Why?”

“There’s a woman called Peridot who’s sitting on Mother’s throne. She says they were sisters.”

Aunt Petal’s nostrils flared. “I remember the day Floret was born. There was no other baby.” She grabbed Bianca’s hand. “Come with me.” She stalked down the hallways, bristling like an affronted cat, and making servants swerve as she passed.

Bianca gulped, but a spring of hope bubbled in her chest. Aunt Petal would expose the impostor, and Father would eject Peridot from the palace.

The guards opened the doors to the State Room and bowed. Aunt Petal pushed her way through the crowds of mourners and stood in front of the thrones. “Just who in the Seven Kingdoms are you?”

Father, who was deep in conversation with Peridot, startled. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I don’t know who that woman is, but she’s no sister of mine!”

Peridot’s hand flew to her chest. “Oh, Petal. I don’t know what I ever did to vex you, but can’t we put our differences aside for our sister’s funeral?”

The guests mumbled. Bianca glanced around. The guests glowered at Aunt Petal, presumably for making a scene. But what did etiquette matter, when an impostor was sitting on Mother’s throne, ingratiating herself to Father?

“Are you a witch?” Aunt Petal’s voice became shrill. Shocked gasps rang out through the room. Witchcraft was a heavy accusation, as the penalty for even being suspected of witchcraft was death.

Father stood. “Enough, Petal. Do not tarnish Floret’s memory with this disgraceful conduct.” He turned to his guards. “Please escort my sister-in-law from the palace.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” With a flick of Captain Verglas’s head, the men advanced on Aunt Petal.

“I will leave, but I’ll get to the bottom of this.” She spun on her heel and left the room.

“We should listen to her,” cried Bianca.

Father sat and patted Peridot’s hand. “You’re obviously distraught and don’t know what you’re saying, daughter. Please retire. Supper will be served in your suite.”

“But—”

“Don’t make me call Governess Morgen.”

She suppressed a shudder. Governess Morgen was the strictest etiquette and comportment instructor in the Seven Kingdoms. The woman was also a sadist. Bianca had been training with her the past three years and had the bruises to show for it. Suppressing a shudder, she curtseyed. “Yes, Father.”

***

The next morning, Bianca awoke with a throbbing head and churning stomach. When Alba, her personal servant, came to dress her, she could barely sit upright.

Bianca groaned. “Tell Father I won’t attend lessons today..”

“Yes, Your Highness. I’ll also call Doctor Stoneheart.” She scurried out of the room.

Bianca fell back onto her pillow and closed her eyes. Perhaps it had been all that crying, or one of the tomatoes in her soup had gone bad. But she felt so sick, and it was worse than any kind of food poisoning. Even dozing off was impossible, as the pounding in her head kept her awake.

A knock on the door reverberated in her tender skull. She winced and muttered, “Come in.”

Mother’s personal physician, Dr. Stoneheart, entered. Every one of his footsteps sounded like thunder. “Your Highness, what ails you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ah. I have just the remedy for that. Essence of Subterfugium with a dash of Perfidia. Sit up, my dear.” He guided her to an upright position and poured the medicine between her lips. Bianca grimaced, in preparation for the foul taste, but when the almond-flavored liquid hit her tongue, she relaxed. “That wasn’t too bad, was it? Good girl.” He pulled some vials out of his jacket and put them in her hand. “Take one of these, five times a day, and you will feel much better in the morning.”

She nodded. “Thank you, doctor.”

He waved her off and gave her a kindly smile. “If there are any changes in your symptoms, call me as soon as possible. All right?”

“I will.” She flopped back down on the bed. The sweet concoction hadn’t done much for her headache, but at least it would help her sleep.

***

Bianca wasn’t sure how long she had been in bed. It seemed that she couldn’t’ shake off her awful condition. Dr. Stoneheart’s medicines and soups now tasted foul, and she kept throwing up.

Alba stood at her bedside, wringing her hands. “I tried to send a message to His Majesty, but he’s too busy with Lady Peridot.

Bianca moaned through shallow breaths, not able to gather the strength to grimace. For a moment, she wondered if she had caught Mother’s non-specific wasting disorder.

The bedroom door creaked open. “Bianca?”

“Huh?”

“Look at you!” Aunt Petal rushed to the side of her bed. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t know,” she mumbled.

“Have you seen a physician?”

She rolled her eyes toward the medicines on her nightstand and managed the word, “Doctor.”

“He gave you those without diagnosing your condition?” Bianca tried to shrug, but even the slightest of movements caused her pain. “They’ve banned me from the palace. I’ve been trying to see you for the past five days. It’s only because I rode in the back of a wagon that I even got access to the palace.”

“What?”

Aunt Petal helped Bianca to sit up and her stomach cramped with every movement. “Your father and that woman have left for Eisenport. Everything seems awfully suspicious. You must come with me.”

Bianca moaned. “Can’t move.”

Petal’s face tightened and she paused for several moments. “Will you do me a favor?”

“Hmmm?”

“Don’t take any more of those medicines. And don’t eat anything specially prepared for you.”

“What—”

“Just do it!”

Bianca let out an exhausted breath. She hadn’t felt like eating anyway. “Yes.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can with my own physician.”

She nodded, the words barely registering. “Hmmm…”

Aunt Petal left, and Bianca went back to sleep. For the next few days, she refused all food and medicine, eating only scraps of Alba’s fruit. Her servant emptied the soups into her chamberpot, so no one could see she wasn’t eating. The vials, she kept under her pillow. Each day, she became less weak, thanks to her Aunt’s advice.

One morning, Dr. Stoneheart entered the room. Bianca flopped to her pillow and closed her eyes. “How is she?”

“I-I-I can’t really say,” said Alba.

“Has she been eating?”

“Not much, sir.”

Bianca’s heart picked up speed.

“I see… Well, a loss in appetite is a common symptom of her condition. Keep giving her the vials, and the matter will be resolved soon.”

Bianca clenched her jaws, hoping Alba would have the good sense not to say anything.

“Yes, sir,” murmured the servant.

***

Later that day, Aunt Petal slipped into the room with a middle-aged man, who walked with a stoop. “Here she is, Dr. Foster.”

The physician’s rheumy gaze traveled over Bianca’s face. “Stick out your tongue, Your Highness….Very good. And if you’ll allow me to pull down your eyelids…. Thank you.” He swirled, sniffed and even tasted the contents of her chamberpot. Then he frowned. “Who is your physician?”

“Dr. Stoneheart.”

Dr. Foster pursed his lips. “It is a loss to the nation when one so talented falls to his darker urges.”

Aunt Petal’s eyes widened. “What did you find?”

“Her Royal Highness is suffering from the effects of Acrimony poisoning. The doctor, or someone on whose behalf he is acting, means to kill her.”