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though they felt as awkward and stiff as branches on a barren tree. The ballroom was magnificent and imposing, candlelight flickering in time with Aislynn’s pulse as hundreds of eyes turned toward her.
    Her father stood waiting. She had seen him only last season but was surprised to find his hair had grayed, mostly at the temples. Aislynn thought it suited him. He wore a small smile, his mustache curving upward, but he did not look directly at her. She didn’t expect him to. Taking his arm, Aislynn followed him into the ballroom.
    â€œHow are you, my dear?” His voice was quiet, and his attention seemed focused on the tapestry against the wall in front of them. It depicted the first adviser in a regal white suit, his hands gently resting on the heads of the two women who were kneeling in front of him. The fairy godmother on his right and the noblewoman on his left had their hands outstretched, their fingers just barely touching.
    â€œI’m well,” Aislynn responded, noticing, for the first time, the serene smiles stitched on the women’s faces. A chill ran up her spine, and she shuddered.
    Her father glanced at her. “You look well,” he said.
    â€œThank you.”
    Next to the tapestry was an ornately decorated map of the four kingdoms, the geography carefully detailed in colorful ink. Quickly Aislynn’s eyes found her family’s castle in Nepeta. Barely a hand’s length away was Nerine Academy, surrounded by townships and kingdoms she knew only by name. Aislynn’s entire world, it seemed, could be contained within a few inches.
    Across the center of the drawing was an angry tangle of briar bushes. They cut across the mountains that touched all four kingdoms and dangerously darkened the West. This was the Midlands, ruled by the Wicked Queen, Josetta.
    â€œLet’s join your mother, shall we?” the king said, pulling Aislynn away from the map.
    Everything in the ballroom was decorated for the season. At the center of each table was a wide glass bowl, filled with waxy lily pads and their spiky cream flowers. Delicate daisy garlands and pastel curtains hung corner to corner. The room was as fresh as the bright butter daffodils firmly fastened in each gentleman’s lapel. Aislynn resisted the urge to adjust her father’s boutonniere, which was just slightly crooked.
    As Aislynn watched the swirling, colorful couples on the dance floor, her heart leaping with anticipation, Violaine crossed suddenly in front of them, her arm linked with a woman who had matching eyes.
    â€œTruth and honesty, Violaine, you may not be as beautiful or clever as your sister, but look at these girls,” Aislynn heard the woman say. “If they’re your competition, why aren’t you Contained yet?”
    â€œI’m sorry, Mother.” Violaine’s head was bowed, her cheeks flushed.
    â€œYour dance card is shrinking with each season. I don’t understand. Are you being purposefully disappointing or just incompetent?” Both women looked wan in their green dresses.
    â€œHello, darling,” said Aislynn’s mother, coming through the crowd to greet them. As Violaine and her mother moved away, the queen gave them a pitying glance. “Thank the glass slipper you look so fetching in blue.”
    â€œHello, Mama.” Aislynn accepted her mother’s embrace, lighter than a spiderweb.
    â€œIt really is a shame when the colors of your status do nothing to elevate . . . your status.” The queen beamed at her clever turn of phrase.
    â€œVery well said, my dear.” The king patted her hand. Glancing around the room, Aislynn was grateful not just for the flattering color she wore but also the ease with which she could determine the exact rank of the guests. Those who were second class, like her parents, wore blue; the third class dressed in green and the fourth class, like Maris, in yellow. The handful of first-class royalty wore