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promised to take it to the grave. “It could have gone better.” 
    “I am sorry to hear that. Will you be returning this night, sir?” 
    “No. I believe it would be far too risky to return so soon.” I push myself from the bed and limp toward the chair, falling into it rather than sitting down. “Now about that food—I’m beyond hungry.” 
    Quin pulls the cover from the platter, revealing strips of pheasant meat cooked in an orange glaze. The smell envelopes me. I dig in, hardly able to contain myself. Not eating last night or this morning is catching up with me. 
    As I chomp down, I think over all Roselyn said—Prince Chavez’s visit, how in a week’s time, she’ll be in Elna, unless we stop this wedding. But how? It seems hopeless. 
    I slip my hand into my trousers pocket and pull out the piece of parchment still there. Written in ink are the words I spoke to Roselyn. The promise I gave her. 
    I will love you until the last rose turns red. For should that happen, somehow our love isn’t true. But while its petals are pure as snow, my desires shall only be for you.
    A feeling of peace washes over me. My eyelids begin to close, and the weight I feel pressing down on my shoulders seems to disappear for a moment. With clarity, I reopen my eyes, and that sense of tranquility vanishes. 
    “This is a spell,” I whisper, running my thumb over the words. 
    “Pardon me, Your Highness?” Quin clears his throat. 
    I look up, realizing he is leaning closer to hear me better.  “I’m sorry, Quin. I was speaking to myself.” 
    “Of course.” He begins to turn away, but promptly looks back at me. “Excuse me, sir. I am sorry for speaking out of turn, but did you say it was a spell? And might I ask what it is that you believe to be a spell? You seem quite perplexed, Your Highness. Perhaps speaking to someone else will offer you some insight.” He takes a seat across from me at the table and eagerly awaits my response. 
    I open my mouth to speak, but there is a knock at the door. Without a word, Quin stands and opens it. I take the moment to eat another bite of food. 
    “Has the prince awakened?” Edda—Mother’s former maid, and now great friend to the family— asks so loudly, her voice could be heard by anyone in the kingdom. I assume she intended it to be that way in case I wasn’t yet awake. 
    “He is, ma’am.” Quin steps aside, allowing Edda entrance.
    She approaches the table, a grin on her face as she sits across from me. “Well, how did it go?” she asks, far too excited for news of last night’s outing. 
    Quin stands beside Edda, now looking unsure whether or not we will continue the conversation we hadn’t started yet. 
    “Sit. You might as well hear the events of last night as well, which are directly attached to that of the spell I mentioned before we were interrupted.” I turn from Quin and look to Edda knowingly. 
    She shrugs, not giving a care that she barged in and interrupted. But she leans forward, eager to hear what I have to say.  I laugh and begin explaining the previous evening’s happenings. The wizard, the fairies, the roses, Roselyn, Prince Chavez, and the looming wedding. 
    All down to the paper I am still holding. “Based on the feeling I got when reading these words only moments ago, I believe this is a spell, a kind of enchantment.” 
    Edda takes the parchment from my grasp and examines it closer. “What was the wizard’s name?” She looks at me, panic in her voice, worry in her eyes. 
    “He did not tell me.” I raise an eyebrow. “Why do you ask? What does it matter?” 
    She sits back, placing the paper on the table before her—still keeping her hand on it—and looks directly at me. “It is very rare for someone outside of royalty to be given magic. Wizards, witches, warlocks, sorcerers, and sorceresses—there are very few of them in the world. It is not likely there is one I do not know, but the seal left on this paper is one I don’t