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entered the palace of her imagination, playing a game that never really ended.
    Cat was still queen.
    I sighed and lay back on the tree. It wasn’t comfortable. Prickly. Awkward. But it allowed me full view of the crumbling leaves and the sky.
    A squawk shattered the stillness. Three ravens, grumbling and croaking, bolted from the branches of a tree far to my right and flapped blackly across my view.
    The sight of them felt like an omen. A chill crept over my skin like a million tiny feet, and I sat up. A noise froze me. Like an animal, large and clumsy. Or so big it didn’t require stealth. It crashed through the underbrush, through the carpets of fallen leaves crusty from the lack of summer rains. Distant, but approaching quickly.
    I pressed my hands against the rough bark of the fallen tree. My fingernails dug into it until flakes came off beneath them. Icouldn’t decide if I should run or stay still. My limbs made the choice for me. I couldn’t move. I hoped whatever it was would think me part of the forest itself.
    I strained to look between the spindles and barrels of the bare tree trunks, feeling grievously exposed. A whip of white on the far side of a scramble of hawthorn caught my eye. A flash of gold.
    The crashing stopped, cut off by a cry of anguish and replaced by a hungered grunting. It had caught whatever prey it chased.
    And then something that sounded like laughter. Not the ravens. More like a man.
    My skirt tore with a hoarse whisper as I slid from my bench. I ignored it and crept forward to the low, hedgelike hawthorn. The leaves were just beginning to fall, the berries blood-red against them. I hid, camouflaged in my moss-green gown and heavy brown sleeves, silently thanking Cat for making Wednesday green.
    The leaves and branches obscured my vision. I saw one figure. Two. Movement. Leaves. Cobwebs. I used one hand to pry open an eyelet.
    Not far away, a man fell to the ground in a patch of dappled late-day sun. He didn’t live at Norfolk House, but obviously came from privilege, judging by the gold braid on his doublet. He was long and lean with blond hair, dark eyes, a straight nose, and a jutting jaw. His beauty was surprising, down near the forest duff.
    He held himself up on his hands. His hose slipped down to reveal pale buttocks glowing in the fading light. Something swathed in dirty white writhed beneath him. A woman.
    He crushed his face to hers, and a growl escaped him.
    “I know you want this.”
    For one startling instant of intense clarity, I felt the woman’s pain, the man’s lust. My heart kicked me in the chest. Pummeled me. Screamed at me to flee. But my stomach sank right down to the roots beneath me and locked me where I knelt.
    Two more men stood beyond, grimacing like the disembodied heads of traitors on London Bridge.
    One looked down, his head bent at the angle of a supplicant. He watched the spectacle, one foot planted firmly on the woman’s left wrist.
    Her right hand dug spasmodically at the earth.
    The other man was really a boy. Not much older than me. A swag of rich golden hair framed a round face and wide-set brown eyes. He stared out into the forest.
    And found me.
    He squinted. Bewilderment clouded his features. Then comprehension cleared them.
    I recovered my feet and ran. Crashes and snaps echoed in my wake. Thin fingers of tree limbs yanked at my skirts and wrists. My legs leadened. My breath came in choking gasps. It was like fleeing pursuit in a nightmare, but knowing I couldn’t wake.
    I strained to hear a shout of alarm. A cry to give chase. I heard none. Just an exultant howl of satisfaction.
    I reached the arch of the oak trees, crossed into the light of civilization. I ran back to the house with the visions I had seen streaming out behind me like a veil, twisting and unwrapping but never tearing completely free.

I CROUCHED IN THE HEDGES BEHIND THE BRICK MONSTROSITY THAT was Norfolk House and disgorged every morsel that had passed my lips that day. I shook