[b]Kazelia![/b]

Your father sneers. His mechanical moth may have brought the box to you, flung from a sling, but why didn’t he? It’s an angry sneer, full of wounded pride.

“Why should I?” Always spinning it back. Always deflecting. “After all, what form could be better than this one?” He stands, cradling Alina in one arm as if she were an exhausted toddler, before handing her casually off to one of the Garthim. “Take her to meet the bride,” he says. “And the fox, too.”

Then he holds his hands behind his back and waits for you to approach him. You know what you are meant to do: to go for a walk with him. It might be your best opportunity to stop this and help... well, Adila. And Ourania! And, you suppose, Alina, too. (Your heart feels frozen when her distress drifts across your mind.)

But his words are cold. And he has so much to say.

“You can’t win,” he says, conversationally, as the Garthim scuttle away. “By the time the wedding bells ring, I will have made Argossa my own.” He taps his foot, and you notice that the stone-like wood under his feet has tendrils of cold rot running through it. And now that you’re looking carefully, you can see them spreading in the corners of the room. Your father is going to tame Argossa or (more likely) kill it. The thought of a dead, rotten tree at the heart of this beautiful world... how does that make you feel, Kazelia?

***

[b]Alina![/b]

As Kazelia makes her choice, you’re already being carried off by a stinking, wet, gross Garthim. Kyouko hisses, and then there’s the sound of a smoke bomb going off behind you, but she doesn’t come save you. Maybe she can’t. Maybe she just doesn’t want to.

And Cassian escorts you, smirking, doubling down on his arrogant self-assurance, to the Bridal Suite.

It used to be Ourania’s salon, but now it’s been transformed. Magical constructs made out of iron and ice weave together a bluish-white wedding gown for the bride, who sits shackled to her chair. But the sight of Ourania, proud and defiant even with a midnight-black scarf wrapped over her face, isn’t the worst thing in the room.

It’s Diana.

She’s lying on the floor, one ankle shackled to the wardrobe, her breath shallow and her cheeks pale with fever. When the Garthim push you down next to her, she stirs weakly, and raises her head.

“Hey, Alina,” she rasps. “I’m sorry. I tried...”

“Shut [i]up,[/i]” Cassian says, rolling his eyes as he tosses your lights on a side table. (They rattle about and fight against the strangely absorbent silk. Another of his father’s toys.) “I don’t want to hear you whine about losing your magic any more.”

The look Ourania gives him would wither stone, and he beats a hasty retreat after making sure your ankles are shackled to that same wardrobe, leaving the Garthim standing watch. Diana coughs, and gestures for you to wiggle closer. “I can’t do much,” she says (with the earnestness of someone who is used to being able to do everything), “but let me see if I can help with that gag...”

***

[b]Adila![/b]

It’s... not what you expected. As you fast-forward, you see flashes of Hyperborea from above. You see devil-fortresses, and the first sun and moon. You see the Shadow War, as Eupheria’s nightmare army spreads whimsy and misrule across the land. You see Ouroboros wrapping herself around the world, seizing her tail in her mouth, shoring it up against the black and endless sea beyond. You see rainbows and the growth of mountains and fireworks and...

You see a cold and desolate wasteland, Argossa split down its trunk with black rot, its limbs drooping and broken. The sun and moon are gone. The stars shine unnaturally bright over the frozen desolation that once was a sea.

And then you’re in Hornet’s arms, and she’s holding you like she never intends to let you go. You’re on the edge of the wedding preparations, which are being made (slowly and clumsily) by Garthim on sorcerous autopilot. As long as you are very, very careful... you won’t activate their deep predatory instincts.

But Hornet’s just standing in plain sight, not moving a muscle, squeezing you tighter and tighter as one of them lumbers past, trailing white lilies from a large bag in its claws.

***

[b]Rita von Catabas![/b]

“I love you,” Alina says, and her lips meet yours. You feel so full of love, you’re drowning in it. You nip playfully and gently at her, and her lips taste like salt under your teeth. You can’t breathe, your heart is so full it’s going to burst, and you need this moment to go on forever but the longer you kiss the more it feels like something has to—

You roll over and lose your hairballs. They’re a wet, soggy mess, just like you. What’s going on?

“—and you’re sure that Alina wasn’t drifting dead in the water? You can tell me, it’s fine. I don’t actually [i]care[/i] about her, except insofar as she’s useful to our mission.”

“[i]Azora,[/i] I’m sure you’re just all discomposed because of nearly drowning, so I’ll let you retract that,” Dandy says, cold as turf in midwinter and just as yielding.

You open your eyes and everything is pastel corals. You’re in a Mermaid’s Shell, for visitors from above the waves. Which means...

“Where’s Alina?” You croak, and turn back to the princess who just resuscitated you, whose smile shatters like glass. You’re sorry, Nemie, you really am, but... “Please, where is she?”

“Oberon has her,” Nemie says, and strokes your forehead. “I’m so sorry, but...”

“Then we’re going after her.” You close your eyes and try to will yourself back into being human, and only too late realize that it’s too much too soon and the blackness sweeps back over you as Nemie calls your name from far away...