She regretted her choice almost as soon as she entered the dining hall, when she remembered with a flush of embarrassment that flattered her hair color that Jack, being a man, made a habit of staring at women's chests, and he made a particular habit of staring at hers whenever she wore a low neckline, purely to annoy her. In the past, Fiona had always brushed it off as teasing, but now with a marriage looming in deadly Damocles fashion above her head, she couldn't help gnawing on her lip as she wondered what such behavior would look like to the rest of the court, who'd surely notice.

    “Fiona,” Jack said suddenly from her side, and Fiona jumped a mile. He laughed. He took even more pleasure from appearing at her side from the shadows and scaring the wits out of her. Normally, Fiona only pretended to be frightened (most of the time), but tonight, well.

    She needed something to cover her cleavage with. Blue velvet curtains hung from the windows that flanked the royal table. Fiona lunged, tore one down, and threw it over her shoulders before Jack could give more than a passing glance to her chest.

    “Brr, isn't it cold in here?” she said, rubbing her arms.

    “It's summer,” Jack said, nonplussed.

    “It's also evening,” Fiona said, and hurried to sit in her seat before Jack could say anything more or, even worse, act gallant and pull out her chair for her. She tucked the velvet drape in as best as she could, ignoring the stares from the court and from her bewildered parents on her left. It was a little too warm in the curtain, but all the above was easier to deal with than juicy rumors that only fed the gossipy fire of a kingdom-uniting wedding.

    “Are you getting sick?” Jack asked as he took his seat on her right. “You're kind of acting weird, Fi.”

    “I'm fine,” Fiona said, a little too breezily. Hastily, she amended, “Well, I don't know, maybe I am getting sick? Or maybe it's the fumes from the hair dye?”

    “They are a little stronger than usual,” Jack said. “I wasn't going to mention it, but...”

    “Oh, quit complaining,” Fiona said. “It smells better than your alcohol breath after a night of cards.”

    “Which is better than your morning breath any day,” Jack retorted.

    Fiona stiffened as she realized her mother was staring at them and smiling fondly. “Which you only smelled once,” she added desperately, “when you caught me--”

    She clammed up. She couldn't finish that sentence, not in front of her mother, and especially not when it involved the baron's gorgeous son, a garden gnome, and some precarious balancing high in the tallest tree in the ornamental gardens. When Jack had heard the full story, he hadn't been able to stop laughing, but he had helped Fiona sneak back into her room as the sun was rising. The corners of Fiona's mouth twitched. There was the mark of a true friend.

    How could her parents expect her to marry him?

    “All right,” Jack said. “I'm dying here. Why were you avoiding me earlier?”

    “I had to dye my hair,” Fiona said automatically.

    “Your hair was already dyed when I arrived,” Jack said, amused.

    “I mean I had to finish,” Fiona said. “You know, wash out the excess dye so it doesn't stain my pillowcases at night, and it's not very proper for a man to see a lady in such a state.”

    “Like I haven't,” Jack said, “you contortionist fool. Don't you remember that first time when you couldn't figure out--”

    “I was just fourteen,” Fiona interrupted when she noticed her mother beaming. “That awkward girl stage, you know. Now I'm a lady, and I have certain, um...” She paused. She couldn't remember what it was a proper lady was supposed to have. Standards? Images? Too much makeup? Normal hair? Correct posture? Her mother had lectured her on all of them at one time or another, to Fiona's eternal dismay.

    “In any case,” Jack said, “we need to have our inaugural sword fight. The summer hasn't properly started until you've beaten me and are looking smug again. Although this time I swear--”

    King Frederick Montbriand stood, lifting his hands for silence from the court. “My friends, tonight is a special night. For years now, our kingdoms have been uniting in harmony every summer. Well, from this night hence, our kingdoms will be joined for more than one season out of the year.”

    Fiona seized Jack's hand. “Jack, get us out of here,” she hissed.

Chapter 2: Once Upon a Bad Dinner Party

    Once upon a time, there were two neighboring kingdoms who couldn't agree on the division of a beautiful lake that sat on the exact border between them. Luckily, they were both peaceful, and rather than waste time and resources fighting a puerile war, they built a cozy summer palace on the edge of the lake, and it was there that their courts adjourned each summer, to bask in the sunshine and the clear water. It was there that Queen Annelise of Highmere arrived one summer with a bulging belly, and the next year, Queen Marion followed suit. Jack and Fiona met for the first time when they were too young to remember each other. In fact, the first summer either of them recollected spending together was the summer Fiona spent beating Jack over the head with a sword, even though Jack did have a concussion by the end of it and shouldn't have remembered a thing. But he insisted he did and Fiona had long since given up arguing with him.

    Once upon a time, there was a girl and a boy. And the girl was not a proper princess, and the boy was the only living Shadowcatcher, after the death of his grandfather. And the girl played with swords, and the boy played at cards, and they each managed to make each other miserable in the endearing way that all best friends do.

    Once upon a time, there was a prince and a princess.

    Once upon a time, there was a girl and a prince.

    Once upon a time, there was a tower, or a pumpkin, or a nest of giants in the nearest mountain range.

    Once upon a time, there was a glove that didn't fit. Or a shoe. Or a bed.

    Once upon a time, there was an evil stepmother.

    Once upon a time, once upon a time, once upon a time.

    They were married, and they all lived happily ever after.

    “Dammit,” Fiona cried and flung another book at the wall.

    The maid tiptoeing timidly into the room shrieked and cowered with her arms over her head.

    “I was throwing it the opposite direction,” Fiona complained. “Grow a spine.”

    The maid squeaked, but lowered her arms. “It's time to dress for dinner,” she whispered.

    “I am perfectly capable of dressing myself,” Fiona said. Then she bellowed and leapt across the room, hands outstretched for the maid. “Don't blow out that candle!”

    The maid screamed and dropped to the parquet floor.

    Fiona rocked to a halt against an overstuffed armchair. “Why were you blowing out that candle?” she cried.

    “Because the sun hasn't even set yet,” the maid wailed, her voice muffled by the arms that were once more over her head. “It's a waste of candle wax. Your mother--”

    “My mother,” Fiona said darkly, “would probably prefer to discover Jack in my private chambers with me.”

    “Your mother, milady? Jack, milady?”

    “Please, stand up,” Fiona said, exasperated. “I'm not going to hurt you. I just didn't want you to blow that out. It's keeping the shadows back. All of them are.”

    The maid cringed to her feet, eyes darting at the candles that covered every surface in the room, above and below, in every nook and cranny. The room glowed like the interior of a storm lantern. There was barely a shadow to be found.

    “Is this because of the Shadowcatcher?” she asked Fiona.

    “I'm kind of avoiding him, yeah,” Fiona said. “And he's never going to let me hear the end of it at dinner. But the last thing I want right now is for Jack to walk out of a shadow, because gods only know what he might have to say to me, and minimum contact with the enemy has always been my favorite strategy.”

    “I thought you and Prince Jack were friends, milady.”

    “You are slow,” Fiona said. “Look, it's none of your gossipy business, anyway. I want to wear my green dress tonight.”

    “It won't match your hair,” the maid said.

    “Did it sound like that was a suggestion? Fine, I'll wear the yellow.”

    “The yellow has such a low neckline,” the maid whispered, properly scandalized like any good woman in the kingdom ought to be.

    “All the better to be seen in,” Fiona said smugly. “Yellow it is.”