The guest bedrooms are humble, and not nearly as well-decorated as any of the family’s rooms. A full-sized bed with a short wooden headboard sits against the wall across from the door. The bedside table has an oil lamp whose flame casts just enough light to flicker across the bed’s unmade covers.

I stop at the footrest and exhale. Now that the danger is over, my legs feel like marmalade.

“Please, forgive the sentry,” Daddy says as he closes the door. His voice is strained. “Overprotective, just like my sister.”

Daddy hobbles toward me, trying to hide the limp that keeps his weight off his right leg. I stuff my crystal into the pocket of my robe and rush to his side. I put his right arm around my shoulders.

He stops to let me help him. “You would have loved to meet her, Klóe.”

I blush. Daddy rarely talks about Aunt Janet, but when he does, it’s always to say something warm or nice about her. I, too, often wish I had been born a year or two earlier, just for the chance to meet her properly before her illness stole her away.

I walk Daddy to the bed. I know he’s not putting all of his weight on me, but he’s still heavy. I help him sit, then lay, down on the bed. Daddy’s eyes tighten, his jaw clenches, and his breathing pauses as he stretches across the mattress. When his head finally rests upon the pillow, Daddy relaxes with a sigh. He smiles at me.

I’m not fooled.

I pull the sheets and comforter up over him. While I fuss, I try my best to copy Mom’s serious voice.

“Nobody’s talking about what happened to you.”

He chuckles softly and helps me pull the edge of the covers up to his neck. “Of course, they’re not. It was an awful event. One best not dwelt on.”

“I don’t like not knowing what happened. And neither does Dimitri. Has anyone even tried to send word to Angelo? It’s not fair that the rest of the house is keeping this secret from us. It’s worse than when you talk about the business.” I try to fluff a fluffy spare pillow. “You’re hurt. Badly. And I don’t know how, or why, or if I can help, or if you’re going to get worse…” I sniffle. Tears haven’t fallen yet, but I can feel them mustering behind my eyes.

Daddy hums. He slides away from me, then taps the newly empty spot on the bed.

I sit, somewhat side-saddle to face him.

“The caravan was returning along the coastal scenic route when we happened upon a small group of shipwrecked sailors. We chatted briefly before I offered to take them up the coast partway to their destination. They must have believed my name holds more importance than it does; they accepted, but, as soon as the last lights from the city dropped behind the hills, the beggars surprised us. They seized control of our carriages and held us captive in our own vehicles.

“Their leader, a scrawny man with wild eyes and stringy hair, demanded access to the Princess of the Riviera. I insisted I had no knowledge of this person until his ravings painted a portrait of you, Klóe. Well, at that point, I knew there was no way I could give you up for some mad man’s ransom plot. He tried awful things to make me talk, but I always refused. I was quite close to passing out when Bastien, who had somehow overtaken his own captors, arrived to overpower the villains holding me hostage. He left the sailors with one of the carriages and a team-and-a-half to watch them so he could deliver me home.”

I rub my face with my sleeve and nod. “That is a very good story, Daddy. But why don’t you tell me what really happened?”

Daddy grins wide. “I thought that was quite the daring recap of events, myself.”

“Sure. Your story has a number of holes, though.”

“It does?”

I nod again. “First, I am not a princess. I’m a baroness, at best.”

“You will always be a princess to me. But I concede your point.”

I try to ignore his flattery as I continue. “Second, most of the roads along the coast with any view of Quinlanti’s lights would be on the cliffs. The sailors would’ve needed to suffer an utterly disastrous shipwreck to find you up there, and the stormwatch has been clear for months. The shores north of the Menagerie are private. You wouldn’t have passed through any of them without permission, no matter how excellent the view. Also, I know just about all of the guards you employ; not even poor old Mr. Ivansen would allow a group of castaways to have their way with you.”

Daddy reaches out and pinches my nose. “Klóe, you truly are the cleverest girl in all of Quinlanti.”

I frown. “Then why not tell me what happened?”

The cheer fades from Daddy’s face. “I fear the truth puts your brother and me under a much less… honorable light.”

“It’s better than nothing. And you know we’ll all love you, anyway.”

Daddy’s gaze shifts slowly, side to side, up and down over my face. Finally, he looks away.

“Bastien and I did, in fact, take the coastal cliff roads back to the Riviera. Shortly after entering the district, Bastien suggested we travel off-road to return home faster. I was in high spirits, as my meeting went well, so I agreed.

“We spotted an abandoned cargo wagon near the edge of a cliff. I, against, your brother’s better judgment, wished to investigate; to make an easy profit, to discover the rightful proprietors, it makes no difference anymore. I failed to notice the wagon’s state of abject disrepair until after I climbed into it. I recognized the contents as barrels of tinder dust just before the wagon collapsed and ignited around me.”

I gasp before I can cover my mouth.

Daddy briefly lifts one hand and shakes his head. “The wagon must have been abandoned for days. The ocean air ruined much of the dust, and the torn canvas dampened most of what managed to ignite. But I did catch a bad end of it, despite Bastien’s and our guards’ best efforts.”

I take Daddy’s near hand in both of mine and sigh. I wouldn’t want to retell such a mishap, either.

“I’m so, so sorry, Daddy.”

He flicks his head to the side. “Don’t waste your pity on me, Klóe. My own hubris – my own pride,” he explained, “put me here. Bastien is almost as distressed from the situation as I am. You may do best by not mentioning the incident to him at all, even in consolation. You know how he can be at times.”

I nod and hum softly. “He’ll figure it out on his own, as usual.”

Daddy chuckles and pulls his hand to his chest, flopping me over onto his stomach. “I’ve had enough dire talk. I still live, and the DiRossi family remains intact. These are the happy thoughts which would give us rest, would you not agree, my Princess?”

I stick my chin into the air and stiffen my upper lip. “Why, I do agree, my father.”

“Then it’s decided,” he says with the assumed tone of a guard captain. “From here, you will return to your bedroom, secure yourself beneath your blanket and bedsheets, and drift soundly to sleep without any more worry disrupting your peace.”

I wriggle backward off the bed. Once my feet hit the floor, I stand up as straight as I can. “Yes, sir!”

“You are dismissed,” he declares with a smile.

Instead of marching to the door, I hop back onto the bed, careful to land next to him rather than on top of him. I gently hug his neck and kiss his cheek. He kisses mine back, and I mostly believe my worries truly will stay away tonight.

I slide to the carpet. I walk to the foot of the bed and pause. One thing still bugs me. I spin around and look Daddy in the eyes.

“Thank you for taking my feelings for you so seriously, but, please, don’t feel like you need to hide things like this from me. You and Mom do a good job of raising us. From what Mimi and Bastien and Angelo say, there are too many people with as much, or even more, wealth or land or whatnot than we have, without half our values.” I disregard Daddy’s wince at the mention of Angelo. “I just… I’m more mature than you might think I am. I mean, I’m eleven years old. I’m practically a teenager! I can handle some bad news now and again, right?”

Something seems to wash over Daddy. He raises his chin, but his eyes… glaze over? As if the thought hadn’t occurred to him before.

But then he blinks, and he smiles, and he nods.

“You are right. I hope you can appreciate that, no matter how old you are, it will be difficult for me to see you as anything but my little princess.”

“I understand. But, can you try, sometimes?”

“Of course, Klóe.”

I smile and pat Daddy’s foot through the bedsheets. I turn and cross half the distance to the door before Daddy calls to me.

I spin around with my lamp crystal half-raised from my robe pocket. “Yes?”

I can’t quite read Daddy’s face, but his voice seems tired and cool.

“Please send the guard to me as you leave.”

Maybe I was too harsh with him. I nod.

I lift my crystal high on my way out. I open the door to find the plate-covered being standing directly in front of the entrance.

I look directly into the guard’s eyes just long enough to say, “My father wishes to speak with you.” I step aside and look away.

The guard enters, and I slip into the hall and close the door. I want to listen through the door to their conversation, but the darkness of the hallway seems to reach for me through the crystal’s light. I hurry back to my room.