In the chilly predawn hours, we silently and quickly ate a cold breakfast as we prepared for the day ahead. I thought we were going to try to sneak back into the castle, to find Taryn and my mother. But instead, my friends produced various bits of finery to wear. They looked like they were ready for, well, a wedding celebration.

Rhyss struggled with the high collar of his shirt, trying to tease it into a comfortable position. “This is incredibly itchy.”

Farrah shook out the wrinkles from her full satin skirt. “I have no sympathy. Try wearing a corset.”

I stood in the middle of all the action, staring at my companions in bewilderment. “I thought … aren’t we going to try to find Taryn?”

“Of course we are,” Farrah said. She shoved something at me, a balled up bunch of pale green fabric. “You’d better hurry up and get changed, so we can get going.”

“Get changed?”

“Even though the wedding isn’t until this evening, there are pre-ceremony events planned for the entire day,” Farrah explained. “Everyone’s going to be headed to the castle grounds this morning. We’ll blend in better if we look like actual wedding guests.”

“But … how—?”

“We did a little bit of ‘shopping’ in the castle before we came to rescue you.” She indicated the dress in my arms. “Although that is your mother’s. She said it doesn’t fit her anymore, but should suit you perfectly.” Farrah gave me an appraising look. “I suppose you need help dressing?”

I shook my head. “I’ve actually grown pretty adept at dressing myself. Surprising, I know. What kind of princess am I?”

Farrah laughed, but it sounded more determined than full of mirth. “One who’s going to get her kingdom back.”

I disappeared into the trees, making sure no one was around. I shook the dress out, admiring the lacework and embroidery on the bodice and skirt. It was definitely fancier than my current outfit, but the style seemed a bit old-fashioned. Certainly I had never seen my mother wear it.

I stepped into the dress, surprised at how well it fit. I laced the front tighter and ran my hands over the skirt, then gathered up my original dress.

Beyan, attired in a navy blue velvet jacket, saw me as I walked back into the camp. “You look absolutely fetching, milady.”

Was he being sincere or sarcastic? I smiled. Knowing him, it was a little of both. I held out my hand, and he took it and kissed it, bowing low.

“Look at that, Beyan’s finally learned to be a gentleman!” Rhyss teased.

Beyan straightened. “You wound my honor, sir. Therefore, I am forced to challenge you to a duel. Give me a moment.” He patted his pockets. “Now, where are those gloves?”

We all laughed. At that moment, Joichan stepped out of the trees, adjusting the sleeves on his golden brown jacket. It not only fit him well, it was very fitting; I couldn’t imagine him in anything but his dragon colors. My father finished fiddling with his suit coat and saw me. He stopped still, looking thunderstruck.

“Well? What do you think?” I asked, crossing over to him.

My father finally found his voice. “Oh, Jennica. For a minute there I thought … you look exactly like your mother did, all those years ago. She was wearing that dress when we first met.”

My throat suddenly constricted. I didn't know what to say. Even if we were successful and stopped Hendon, it didn’t necessarily mean there would be a happy ending for my parents.

My father nodded sadly as if he knew what I was thinking. He took a deep breath, visibly composing himself. In another moment he was himself again: Joichan, the proud dragon shapeshifter, incredibly wise and controlled. “Shall we?”

The five of us joined a group of nobles headed toward the castle. The sun had risen overhead in a cloudless sky, promising a beautiful day for a wedding. Although we had gotten up early, we hadn’t beaten the crowds into the castle grounds. There must have been a hundred or more people milling about: leaders of the neighboring kingdoms, their families, other heads of state, lesser visiting nobility, and their servants. Not to mention the Calian nobility, their servants, and the castle servants, tasked with attending all the visitors and preparing for the wedding.

I felt a little twinge of sadness. Although I did not want to marry Prince Anders, it was supposed to be my wedding day. Would I ever get to have a real Calian wedding someday? Or would this sham be the closest I would ever come to it?

A guard at the gate called out to the crowd, repeating the same instructions: “All weapons must be left with the castle guards! No exceptions! You will get your weapons back upon leaving the castle.”

We turned in our weapons to the guards manning the castle gates, Rhyss hesitating over his prized knife.

“You promise I’ll get it back?” He reluctantly handed it over to the waiting guard.

“Of course, sir.” The man eyed the old dagger with distaste. “It’s a very … fine weapon, sir. I can see why you want it back.”

Mollified by the compliment, Rhyss breezed into the courtyard. Farrah rolled her eyes at his retreating back as she gave her sword to the guard and hurried after Rhyss.

We walked along the grounds, taking everything in. The day had barely begun, but the festivities were already well underway. Besides a myriad of entertainment for the visitors, food and drink were flowing freely.

“King Hendon is notoriously tight-fisted.” I dodged two children playing tag, who were being chased by their frazzled nursemaid. “But it looks like he’s spending more in one day than he does in an entire year. Why go to such expense, especially since the wedding is fake?”

“These people don’t know that.” Beyan’s sweeping arm took in all of the people carousing around us.

“Appearances count,” Joichan chimed in. “But more importantly, if everyone’s happy and drunk, they won’t be looking for anything untoward during the wedding.”

By the look of things, I wasn’t sure any of the visiting nobles would even be awake for the wedding, let alone somewhat sober.

We found a quiet spot away from the majority of the crowd and stopped to talk.

“So, what’s the plan?” Rhyss asked quietly.

Beyan turned to me. “Jennica, I hate for you to go back, but you’re the best person to find your friend. I’ll go with you in case anything happens.”

“As will I,” said Joichan.

“Too many of us running around the castle may attract attention,” I said. “If it’s okay with you, I’d prefer when we get inside that you make sure my mother is safe.”

“We’ll stay out here, then, and see what we can learn,” Rhyss said.

“If we find out anything important, we’ll try to find you. Otherwise, we’ll see you at the ceremony,” Farrah said.

With that settled, we split up. Joichan, Beyan, and I easily strolled inside the palace. We didn’t have to worry about getting caught in the hallways; with all the hubbub of servants scurrying to and fro, and random nobles wandering around the Calian palace, we just looked like wedding guests enjoying the festivities.

However, as we headed farther in, there were fewer wedding guests around. We also had to avoid any of the palace guards, as they would recognize me as the princess.

We reached the castle wing that housed the private rooms of the royal family. I was betting that, due to the ongoing celebration, King Hendon would either be celebrating with the other guests or overseeing the final touches for the wedding. But my mother, still under house arrest, would most likely be confined to her room until right before the wedding, when it would be necessary for her to make an appearance.

I also hoped that my mother might have an idea of where the king had taken Taryn.

I knocked, low and urgent, on the door.

“Enter.” My mother sounded weary and resigned.

We slipped into my mother’s chambers. She stood up immediately, surprised to see us.

“Jennica! Joichan! And …” She broke off, unsure of how to react to Beyan’s presence.

Beyan sketched a quick bow. “Beyan, son of Kye of Orchwell, at your service, Your Majesty.”

My mother smiled at him, then at me. “I should have guessed who you were, since Jennica was successful in finding her father.”

“Mother! The king has Taryn. It happened last night,” I said. “We were being held in the same cell; he tried to cast a spell on me, but it didn’t work. So he took Taryn instead. She’s under the king’s control. What do you suppose he wants with her? He said something about ‘an alternate path’ to getting his way.”

My mother looked both troubled and intrigued at my words. “I heard them in the hallway last night. I believe he’s locked her in your rooms.”

Immediately, I spun around to leave. Mother’s voice stopped me. “Wait, Jennica. You were able to resist his spell?”

Turning back, I fished my amber soulstone out from beneath my bodice. “I don’t know if resist is the right word … I only knew, with every part of my being, that I didn’t want him to succeed. The more Hendon tried to hurt me with his spell, the more this … shielded me somehow.”

Mother looked at Joichan, a question lighting her eyes. “I’m glad he wasn’t able to hurt you with his vile magic. But how?”

Joichan shrugged, but smiled at me proudly. “We don’t have time for a more thorough study right now, but … you are a stronger magician than you know, Jennica.”

I smiled back, but it faded quickly as I remembered something. “Mother, Father … Hendon has a soulstone of his own. It’s a red jewel he wears around his neck.”

My mother gasped. “I’ve seen that necklace. He had it on the day he forced me to talk. Come to think of it … he’s been wearing that necklace for some time now.”

“So he’s been able to tap into that magical ability for a while, and is obviously growing more proficient in it every day,” Joichan said.

“But it doesn’t explain how he plans to conquer all of the Gifted Lands,” I argued. “He can’t exactly cast individual spells on each person here. It would take too long and be too noticeable.”

Beyan coughed slightly, catching my eye as he nodded toward the door. He was right; we needed to continue our search for Taryn.

I gave my mother and father quick hugs goodbye. Beyan opened the door and we slipped back into the hallway. Looking at him, I could see my question mirrored in his face: Now what? He shrugged. We walked toward my suite, which we had passed on the way to my mother’s set of rooms, with me leading the way.

Ahead of us, a door opened further down the hallway.

It was the door to my rooms. Those of the princess.

And leaving my room was Taryn, dressed in one of my gowns. It was a few inches too short for her, but she didn’t seem to notice or care. Which was odd, because Taryn was always conscientious about fashion, whether it was hers or mine.

And why was she wearing my clothes at all?

“Taryn!” I cried out. She looked over at us.

In an undertone, Beyan said incredulously, “Are you two related? She looks just like you!”

“Of course not.” Brushing his comment aside, I strode toward Taryn. “I’ve met her family, and trust me, it’s definitely not my own.”

“Wait, Jennica—”

As I approached Taryn, I could make out the expression on her face. She did not look happy to see me.

“Taryn?” My happiness at seeing my lady-in-waiting changed to uncertainty.

Something seemed odd about Taryn. Her face seemed fuzzy, like I was viewing her through a veil or a dirty window. Focusing on the layer of magic floating around her, I realized Beyan was right—Taryn looked like an exact copy of me. Instead of her usual blonde curls and bright green eyes, she stared back at me with dark brown eyes, her now-black hair piled high on her head. Even her heart-shaped, fair-skinned face had transformed into my own rounded olive-skinned features. Her true self was an extremely faint shadow underneath the skillfully crafted illusion.

Subtly, I tugged at the magic around her, trying to twitch it off or look for a weakness. It wouldn’t budge. My heart sank, knowing that during an event as momentous as a royal wedding, no one with magical ability would be close enough to Taryn to ascertain the illusion, let alone have the time to do anything about it.

No one, except King Hendon.

“Are you lost? Who is this Taryn person you’re talking about?” Taryn had never taken such a disdainful, haughty tone with me before.

“Taryn, stop playing. We need to get you out of here.”

“I’m not Taryn, whoever she is. I am Her Highness, the Crown Princess of Calia, and you should address me as such.”

I stared at Taryn in disbelief. “Taryn, what has Hendon done to you? Don’t you remember me at all?” I reached for her, but she recoiled in horror. “Taryn, it’s me. I’m Princess Jennica.”

Taryn blinked. For a brief moment, the arrogance in her eyes disappeared, replaced by confusion and a bit of recognition. “Jennica …”

I breathed a sigh of relief. She remembered me. It was going to be all right.

Taryn opened her mouth and started screaming. “Guards!”